So, anyone who has come within a 10 foot radius of me in the past week has heard the sentence “The Leaving Cert has eaten my life.” And I may have already written that here in fact, but I am now so sleep deprived that I have lost track of my bitching.
In the way only the Irish can say it, “Táim in umar na haimléise agus trí chéile ar fad.” Or in a less eloquent way, I’m completely pyjama-ed. Weighed down with proper life changing decisions and the prospect of adulthood, I am now incapable of making even the simplest decisions. How can I can decide what to do in life when I can’t even pick a grads dress? (I have it narrowed down to 5. Headway anyway.)
On the plus side, I have finally decided what I want to sing at Grads, namely Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper. Done to death? Opinions please. I can always whip out the perm and shoulder pads to make it seem more interesting. And speaking of Grads, it turns out we, as a year, are incapable of walking down an aisle. And to think, there are 5 wannabe doctors amongst us. Shame.
And to further the audience to this next question, should I be a teacher? Should the doctoring not work out. I was teaching today. Well tutoring, I suppose. Music and such. I do enjoy teaching. But what to teach? Music, language, science? Or maybe I should do some practical working. Become a biochemist. Or an international translator. My mom would tell me to be happy I have so much choice available. I should be but ack. Who wants to make hard choices at 17 years and 50 weeks of age?! I’m still only a baby sure!