What is the point of exams? I mean, HOW do they help you in later life? Can't you just, not do any until you're like...I don't know, in uni? That way, you can enjoy your teenage years while you still have them! And you can focus your time on all the important things, like looking good (I will admit this, I am extremely vain) and going to the cinema to see that film which you know will be terrible but you still drag your best friend to go see it because you "love street dance movies and haven't seen this one yet!" And then when you get to uni, you can worry about all the immense pressure of degrees and what-not.
I am saying this because this week I have been getting THE EXAM TALK. Mostly from teachers and my parents, but from myself too. It seems that all I ever talk about anymore is exams. Which is pretty boring if you ask me. I mean, I'm not saying I did TERRIBLY in my first exams, but I have been moping about "only getting an A in my Spanish Listening" for a while. And I know what you're thinking. "Maia! What on earth are you going on about, you insolent child! An A isn't terrible! Why when I was your age.... *insert long speech about how things 'ain't what they used to be.'"
But anyway, let's continue with the week, shall we? I had the most interesting of conversations with my new Head of Year the other day. Apparently, according to her, my skirt is just too short. But by only "half an inch or so". This basically means I'm a hippogriff. I mean, hypocrite.
Remember my rants from last week? Well I commented on how the girls in the year below wear their skirts (far too short for any decent person) and now look at me! I am a sham! A disgrace! A.... A....DON'T MAKE ME LAUGH. HOW RIDICULOUS CAN ONE TEACHER BE?! HALF AN INCH TOO SHORT!? Why I have the right mind to...to... Well, to be perfectly honest, I'm not sure what I have the right mind to do. Because she's not going to listen to me about this situation. Which is what annoys me about some teachers, they just DON'T RUDDY LISTEN.
Take my drama teacher for example. Whenever I walk into a room and he is there, or try to have a regular conversation with him, he immediately erupts with "LOOK EVERYONE! IT'S MAIA ORME! MAIA ORME EVERYONE! DO YOU SEE THAT? MY GOODNESS, MAIA ORME!" which instantly makes me feel like an idiot. And what's worse is that he never listens to a word anyone says, especially me. He'll just stand around singing "My Name is Tallulah" (from the musical Bugsy Malone which we performed last year, I was Tallulah) at me. It's times like these I thank the heavens I didn't choose drama for GCSE.
AND FINALLY, to round off this neat little blog, I have a little announcement! Next week, I shall be performing in my school's annual musical. This year, we're doing Grease, and you'll never guess who I am! Go on guess! Oh alright, I'm Rizzo... Spoilsport. This probably means that I may not be able to write next week *cries* so I shall have to love you and leave you for now.
But, there's always next time...