I got my critical theory essay back last night. 57%. Or was it 56%? Whatever, in the fifties. Above 55. That is a credit, allegedly. It goes pass, credit, merit, distinction. I guess that's a third, 2:2, 2:1 and first. Is it? Maybe. It's not a degree though. So anyway, yeah I'm on a 2:2 (I have two credits and a merit) unless I somehow pull off a distinction for my drama which might have been possible once but is now unlikely. When I was at uni, even towards the end when I was so drunk I couldn't see, I still regularly pulled off 2:1's and firsts for my critical work. Now I just can't do it any more.

Here's an interesting thing:

Why do I care?

I think it is because I was told for so long I was so so so clever, and wasn't I just the cleverest little girl and wasn't I just brilliant? And I was, but, err, I have not got any more cleverer. I mean, for a nine year old I am a freaking genius. And I knew I wasn't pretty so I concentrated on being clever until I got pretty. Then I just relied on being pretty. Unfortunately it wasn't as trendy as it is now so it wasn't that useful in the long run. And I also got drunk way too often and went to bed way too late and now in the space where I knew about Derrida and poststructuralism and could come up with my own theories and ideas there is just shoes and bags and Chauncey's arse.

That's not a bad thing. Why do I think that's a bad thing? I don't need to be a supergenius. I'm a receptionist for God's sake! I don't want to stress of doing a PhD or a job with much more responsibility. I just want to be able to have a pint, have a laugh and, basically, have a life. Loads of people are just regular clever, not supergeniuses, and they don't care. I'm far too lazy to put the hard work in to make up for the fact the clever part of my brain has stalled, so I'm never going to be this amazing conversationalist who can look at things in a crazy new way. I'm just a regular joe. I don't want to believe that I'm so narcissistic that I can't bear to be like everyone else. I mean, everyone's different, you know. Not being intellectual doesn't make you an arse. In fact, it is often the opposite.

So I suppose I'm saying that my childhood is affecting me now, which, quite annoyingly is a theory I don't want to subscribe to. Once you're an adult you get to choose how your past affects you. That is the joy of being a grown-up. You don't have to let bad things ruin your life. You get further and further away from them til you can see them properly and then you choose how to feel about it. But I am sat here feeling upset because I'm not the cleverest girl in the class (well, I am in my particular class but that's another thing again.)  Especially now I am certainly not the prettiest girl in the class any more (well, I am in my class but ... anyway.)

And now I'm annoying myself because I'm also brazenly fishing for compliments! AAAAAAAaaaaarrrghghghghghghhhh. I don't mean to. Like Chauncey says, I would make a brilliant fisherman. Don't compliment me. Just leave a message saying it is fine not to be the best at stuff.

Here's a joke:

Q: Why does Snoop Dogg carry an umbrella?
A:  Fo' drizzle!