cumbersome as sin.

I have had one of the most single handedly self perpetuated awkward days of my life, and its these sort of awkward days that make me feel as though i need to expand in some metaphysical speculation about being awkward/unwieldy/difficult. so i have a interview for university today, which means it was the popping of my higher education undergraduate cherry, while most other 18 year olds have organised their lives in a slap dash manner and sort of already been sampling the fine life of students. i however, am stuck in my mums black-man-passion-wagon range rover getting trawled to Farnham UCA for my first interview, and in true mumma Daly fashion, mum misses the necessary exits twice on the motor way (amused myself for a while over the notion that she did not make one boob, but two, so her mistakes therefore equated to a heaving pair of tits) and i arrived at the uni unscathed but oddly on edge, full of gas and piss from extensive amounts of tea and a sweaty forehead, which always makes me look like a Klingon. so in this uni theres a handful of ripe candidates for the art foundation course and ive strolled up, lumbering my portfolio along the corridor and planted myself on one of them shitty rubber chairs that make your ass sweat like an upper lip in a curry house. my first awkward move is to sit on the chair and break the silence which the room had undoubtedly been in for quite some time by exclaiming that the squeak of the chair was not a fart, when no one had cared or probably even noticed the sound to begin with. strike one to being maladroit for me. so this time passes and i end up talking to a motor mouth girl until i was summoned to the room to get interrogated by people who think life drawing is the hub of all artistic talent.

so, they've asked me what i do in my spare time. this question i am about to ask is rhetoric and needs no answer but please-consider how would you feel if you were me- how do you break it to a group of artists that you enjoy forcing your boyfriend to take you to duck ponds to force cheap bread down the local wildlife's fragile oesophagus's ? how do you say that you enjoy disembodying dead animals and burying them with the intent to dig them up and keep the bones? and that you weave bird houses from string and hand made felt? honestly. it was awkward, and there was the queue to go red in the face, but no, i was honest and stoic, yet my honesty was received by blank faces and the topic rapidly changed.

after some more awkward eye contact and that awful feeling when you brush knuckles with an old arty bint when trying to fiddle with the zip on the portfolio, i left the interview feeling clueless and vulnerable, yet some what elated. i then went on the find the mental "grooooovy" chic i was talking to prior the interview and we got into a discussion over which serial killers we prefer. it was all followed by a dose of awkward hermitdom where i sat on a fence trying to look purposeful where the mere fact was that i had to wait 40 minutes for my ride and i couldnt be fucked to carry the portfolio anywhere else because my fingers looked like chodes. all in all im forgetting where im going with this, like most waning blogs of mine but there, 'ave it. because i cant be bothered to find a relevant picture for this blog, im going to upload the first picture i see in my file.