29.01.13- William Shakespeare, Work and Wonderful Welsh Weather

My 3 main thoughts in a day otherwise slightly mundane:

1) Getting to Uni feeling like you've been pissed on by St David does not make you enthusiastic for lectures.
2) People who sit at a computer next to mine when there are millions of computers available are invading my personal bubble and need to be ejected from their seats immediately.
3) Watching people peruse onions and reduced bread rolls all evening is incredibly therapeutic.

Going along Mumbles Road this morning

This morning was one of those timetable slots that fills every student with horror. The dreaded 9am lecture. And once again Swansea was pissing down and the walk to Uni at 8.30am was definitely a risk to my life because I definitely nearly blew away into the sea.

"Hey baby, heard you like them ruff."

So I arrived at Uni looking like I'd fallen into a toilet. Most other people did too so I suppose that made it okay, but the lecture on Shakespeare was utterly pointless and I huffed most of the way through it. I hate "introductory" lectures. Just cut the crap and teach me what I need to know to get a first-class honours degree please. I do not care what the names of his plays were, nor do I give two shits about what Shakespeare's face looked like when magnified on a giant screen. Cool, he's bald, he wears a ruff, he's witty, I'd tap that if I were Elizabethan, etc, etc.
I came away from the lecture feeling I'd learned nothing of value except that I am definitely reserving the name "Cuthbert Burbage" for one of my future cats.
Then I had an "I-Need-To-Sort-My-Life-Out" session in the library which involved browsing graduate employers, jobs, entering some of the major poetry competitions which are closing this month and having a go at applying for some extra role to do alongside work as a weekly columnist for some arts website. But to do that I think you need to be funny.

Invade my personal bubble
 and I will invade your face

I was incredibly annoyed however when a girl sat next to me and ruined my special moment of solitude with my cup of Costa tea whilst rocking out to Yann Tiersen's piano music on my earphones. It not only killed the moment but made me feel like my breathing air was being violated so I left shortly after.
Actually I left because I needed to go food shopping before work but it's more dramatic if I pretend it had nothing to do with that.
The couple of hours before my shift were spent reading up on Dylan Thomas, chatting with my mum and trying to discourage my little brother from showing me his bare backside and talking extensively about his bowel habits. Needless to say, my brother's meal of curry later looked extremely unappealing and I went to work for the evening.
I'd been dreading the shift all day. I just feel so tired. I wanted to curl up with a cup of tea in bed and contemplate volunteering for the Cats' Protection Agency whilst listening to Dido or something really shit. But you know what?
Work was the best part of my day. Genuinely. And it's not like I was that busy. An hour of cleaning and scanning trolley-loads then 3 hours of daydreaming and occasionally chatting to a customer or serving them cigarettes or lottery. I contemplated life and watched people examine tomatoes and buy really unnecessary things like cheese with holes in it and a 20-pack of yum-yums.
And my pulse rate slowed. My breathing steadied. The nausea eased off. The worry and confusion I've been feeling all week due to the scariness of the future and the odd need of wanting to settle and stop being a drunken lunatic so much of the time (whaat...settle?! Me?) and the endless wait for exam results just dissipated in the beep of scanners and stacking of Pringles.
I've come home feeling calm and more clear-headed.
So kids. If you're feeling pissed off, don't do drugs. Don't touch cocaine. Don't glug cheap vodka (that shit makes you go blind anyway). Go to a supermarket and ask the checkout girl if you can come and stand behind the counter. Go, be free, and stack tins of ravioli.
You will still feel the escapism you chase with drink and drugs, only you'll be doing something useful, you won't become an alcoholic, your liver won't fail, you won't be shaking for another line of coke and your nose won't rot and fall off and you won't die.
Hooray for supermarkets and stroking cats.

Far cheaper than therapy