It is now that time that every student dreads. You occasionally get that one person who seems to have been born for university, and thrives off the perils of interviews, or the general impending university related doom. They want to free themselves from Hier(achy) Education. The news of rejection is reacted to with hysteric claims of having to become a hooker (to which you sympathically laugh and actually think 'good luck with that face...') - or just a group of self pitying teenagers moaning about how it is the frosting on the giant crap cake that is their life. The chaos of uni applications certainly changes the dynamics of everything. The divides develop into big stereotype feeding schisms.
Firstly, we must analyse the nature of students studying the arts. Many attempt to take on an air of 'bohemian intelligence'. This basically involves;
- Taking a Guardian newspaper and not reading it, but sarcastically laughing at a couple of ambiguous words and saying the classic; 'ahah look at what Cameron's done... the private school tool... Oh Boris Johnson, getting up to your usual mischief'.
- Buying a t-shirt from a really dirty looking but 'vintage shop' in the Northern Qu- actually I'm being too mainstream indie- in Narnia or some surreal place covered in toilets and broken vinyls. The hidden meaning in these eccentric places is this; there is no hidden meaning you pretentious spanner.
- Sometimes (rather too vocally) announcing a new found love for a band with a name which was obviously contrived by a drunken night of playing with a dictionary. Stupid names like 'Monkey Blue Moon Bananas', 'Llama Empire Ninja Sweepers' or 'Bat For Lashes'. I realise the latter is an actual band, but I just wanted to emphasize the fact that slurring consonants and pronouncing all vowels as 'a's are incredibly annoying; 'Lat's spand tha naght at maan'. Not pointing any fingers at anyone. Ellie Goulding.
- Taking photos on a pentax when you have no idea what you're doing. 'Let's demonstrate inner teen turmoil by taking a diagonal shot of a tree branch and focusing on a small part of it. Then add effects to it because nothing says I'm an original teen as much as a sepia shot.' You get the occasional body shot. But standing up straight and smiling is so standard. How about twisting your body into awkward limping positions, opening your mouth half and inch and then looking away from the camera? Congratulations, you look like you're having a stroke.
And then we consider the medics. This species is one to be approached with caution and fear. They huddle together, discussing causes of great anguish and suffering. Who cares about world hunger or the shady situation of the Middle East? The pain that medics feel when adding one too many drops to titration is comparable to child birth, if the child coming out of you is Shrek. I remember once making a joke, prescribing 'a chill pill' to one friend. I thought it was a brilliant suggestion and displayed it with loud thigh slapping laugh. She stared at me, as if I was eating a puppy. They went on about how being a potential medic is so hard and 'you just don't get it'. I'm sorry, I should really sympathise.
But I don't.
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