Phase 3: The Wind Down.

So begins the final phase as my end of year break nears completion. All the classic symptoms have started popping up all over the place. For example, I'm biting my fingers again. To some this is not of any concern. I, on the other hand, frequently cover my fingers in band-aids in an effort to stem any bleeding. It's only been recently that I've uncovered the root of my finger/fingernail biting problem, that being the stress I endure as a part of my formal education. A mandatory part, no less. Almost immediately as my unit 1+2 exams finished I ceased to gnaw at my digits like a squirrel with acute paranoia. On crack too, probably. It was nice; I actually got to clip my nails for once. That might seem trivial to someone without any deep-rooted anxiety issues which manifest themselves into unhealthy physical habits, but to someone of that particular persuasion it's quite the achievement, and since I've been tackling that problem for a number of years it's an achievement that I'm proud of. Explanations aside, the short space of time between now and the beginning of my final year of high school education is apparently just cause for this habit to revive itself in an apt but stretched autophagic-zombie analogy. But if I may perhaps delve a little deeper into this issue, there is a more complex catalyst to this problem of mine. We've already discussed the school-year-biting link, yet as it stands this would not seem enough to explain. Is the mere presence of school work and it's associated pressures sufficient? No, no it is not. Nae, it is not the work itself; the work isn't a problem in the slightest, I am the problem. I can pass all my subjects, I can get top-percentile marks (probably), but I can't satisfy my own need to excel. It seems I've cultivated some bizarre reflex to success that, even in the wake of a horde of praising teachers and peers, tells me I didn't do well enough. It also applies to any future project I might undertake, and this is where we come full circle, as I gnash and gnaw in fear of simply not being the best I can be.

Well, that's nice, isn't it? Nothing quite like a bit of introspective psychoanalysis to help me wind down before I turn in for the night. I plan to make my way to the bedchamber reasonably early, so as to normalise my sleeping patterns in anticipation of 7am starts, another symptom of the final phase of the summer break. Along with that last mad dash of homework. Under normal circumstances I too would be participating in this mad dash if it weren't that my load was lightened rather significantly just yesterday.

I received an e-mail last night informing me that I had been offered a place in Melbourne University's extension program. I was expecting the e-mail (confirmation or rejection) about a week ago, but who am I to complain? It was a beautiful moment; I exhaled rather heavily as I skimmed over the final sections of the e-mail. Studying linguistics, just by the way. I'm completing the first year of university linguistics as two extension subjects, each a semester long. It'll be fucking ace. Bringing this ramble back to the school's coming vibe, this means I do not have to complete my English Language homework for school. During discussion with the head of senior school about the program and my application we concluded it would be beneficial, and logical, if I were to only study four VCE subjects on the condition that I was accepted into the course. I've already completed Biology 3+4, so it wasn't an issue for me to only study four subjects as opposed to the normal five for year 12 at my school. Thus I chose to drop English Language as I've chosen English as well (and one English is mandatory). The homework for this subject was gargantuan. Probably. I'm exaggerating a little. Regardless, with that weight off my shoulders I have only to write 500 words for French and collect 20 examples on a theme for Drama. No sweat. I can get that done in a few hours.

Now I have more time to trawl through StumbleUpon and play Neverwinter Nights 2. A small victory on my part.