Oh ye gods and little fishes, I am THROUGH!

And I feel nothing. I've survived what will no doubt be the most important examination of my existence and I feel - well, some relief, that's for certain, but for most of it I am just sleepy at the wrong times of day and my insomnia still persists. I am doomed to anticlimax for all my life.

I am beginning to think that I will never have the time or strength to put down the events of the past few weeks in their entirety. I shall call them the Lost Days, like the Lost Boys or the Lost Diaries or the Lost Tweezers of Serovingia - and we shall never know what I lost with them, what ideas I could have had, what things I could have achieved - I will have to stop quoting Proof. I never have to see that damn play again. But the point is, I will not speak of them - and there are days in there that I don't really want to think about at all, at least not till next March pinwheels around and I have to face the consequences of those days. But the interim is mine. And I will stop quoting my Lit texts!

What has let me survive this: house arrest, believe it or not. Subversion Row clearly did not.

Melly: House arrest! Are you Aung San Suu Kyi or what?
(Dude: So that is how you pronounce it.)
Michael: Don't worry, they'll free you soon.
Melly: Yeah, APEC's over.
Michael: Obama made a special request.

This house arrest - no going out, no phone, no Internet - was enforced by my parents for my own good. It had to be, since it did not seem to be benefiting anyone else.

Ditsy: Stop pulling my hair!
Me: I'm bored. I hate Econs!
Ditsy: (to my mother) She is monstrous!
Mipsy: She's only like that 'cos she has to study.
Ditsy: I do not care! This is abusement!
Me: You are all my cats. You are Ditsy-cat and Mipsy-cat and the Moffles-cat, and you all have to do what I say because it is my A-levels and I Am Queen.
Ditsy: Get a boyfriend. Pull his hair instead.
Me: You will so regret saying that.
Ditsy: I DON'T CARE. DON'T PULL MY HAIR ANY MORE.

So, house arrest, depressing though that was. Mix CDs. Smiling candy. Denial (this is executed much like Wemmick's wedding, in a "Let's go to school today! Oh, here's a classroom! Here's a desk! Here's a paper with questions on! Let's have an exam! And then let's go home and do tutorials for six hours because I feel like it!") Drinking a lot of green tea and little coffee (this is a long story for another day, it involves a magic underwater spider and my water filter). Regression (I do not mean least-squares). Diana Wynne Jones, which has to do with regression. And knitting. Subversion Row had a lot to say about that too.

Random passerby: Oh my god, that is so Estella.
(beat)
Melly: WHO TAUGHT YOU TO BE HARD? WHO TAUGHT YOU TO BE PROUD?
Michael: AND WAS THAT NICE? AND WAS THAT KIND?
Michelle: (I need to alliterate here) GOD BLESS YOU! GOD FORGIVE YOU!

On another note, I must be the only person in the world to knit to Aerosmith.

In the days following my release, I have attended an HP steamboat party where everyone at my table drank the ma la side of the steamboat and proceeded to die, or at least cried like they were in labour, leaving me (who had drunk only the white side) feeling rather pleased with myself. I have taken the first step towards finally getting an honest job (like the Moffles, who for the past month has been working as the ticketing/costume/go-to girl at the SRT and is now considered infinitely more respectable than her layabout sibling) and went to SPH Human Resource for a written test. It was like GP. I have gone shopping in Ion with Marauding Melissa and the Wholesome Gohsome, which is exhuasting in the extreme: the former bought sexy leather heels, the latter bought a sexy velvet dress, and I sat around reading Fables like an accessory husband. The rest of the time, I have borrowed and read all the new Diana Wynne Jones with ferocity. If all goes according to plan and I take English at Cambridge, I will be reading advance literature for all of my near future and so I am going to indulge in children's books while I can.

I have not yet: a) cleared the house of notes, b) taken down the sentient wallpaper, which has been collapsing in droves since Econs was over last week - I told the main stairwell to stay up because I wanted to photograph it, and it has been good enough to oblige - and c) got around to birthday presents, which I owe in spades. And Christmas cards. Oh god, Christmas cards - this will be the last year I write any and so NOW I HAVE TO WRITE TO EVERYONE. Oh ye gods and little fishes.

It is so difficult to believe that there has been life outside of this! that there have been people going on about their lives all this while, untouched by the A levels. The world has spun on without us, as if this were a production but not on account of it being enjoyable. I need to catch up with the world. I need to find all the friends I have lost in the interim. And above all - because I no longer have an excuse not to - I NEED TO GET A LIFE.

THE NEW DAY IS A GREAT BIG FISH.