My god. I've been accepted to Oxford.

I shan't be keeping this journal any longer. I've got far too much work to do preparing to matriculate this autumn. I would sooner fail than not be among the greatest. Since they have accepted me, I must prove my worthiness. But I'll still be here, of course, until graduation.

Ron! We must celebrate!

I'm getting a bad feeling about Oxford. Not that I expected to hear yet, but I have a dreadful feeling I ought to make contingency plans in case I don't get in ( Read more... )

I've not asked her out or anything, but I did ask her to teach me to dance. From me, that's practically a declaration. Because we both know I'm going to look like an idiot taking dance lessons from a cute girl.

She'll probably say no.

Now that Dio de los Enamorados is over I feel less emo, though no less troubled by my sad lack of ability to attract the female half of the species ( Read more... )

I know I'm usually thick as a plank about whatever's going on in the world outside my dorm room, but doesn't it seem like spring madness has come early? Last week there was some frightfully macho noise war (I actually liked a lot of the music, but really). This week that dreadful Brontë girl has come back, the one who makes me quake in my boots ( Read more... )

Fate has been unkinder than ever: my blonde goddess has declared she will remain a virgin throughout her high school years. Possibly longer, but I won't know as I'm sure she wasn't planning to matriculate at Oxford. Our love is forever denied ( Read more... )

Sorry I bunked on the D&D game, guys. I meant to come back, but I was suddenly struck with a fantastic idea for resolving one subplot of my tragedy. My Greek tragedy, the one I'm writing which I hope will get me accepted at Oxford. I have my heart set on reading Classics there, you know ( Read more... )

It feels surprisingly good to be back at Eupheme. Well, better than good. There's this girl, you see ( Read more... )

Hullo from London! I'm on my way back, hope you haven't burnt the place down. Tom was very ill indeed, but he's on the mend and I'm sick of the city ( Read more... )

Gosh, that sounds dramatic. Er, sorry. Going back to London tonight on the late flight out of Boston. I've got to leave right now, actually, to catch the train. I do not have Internet access in London unless I pay for it, and as I shall be taking care of my brother full time I shan't have any income until he's better. At which point, I'd come back ( Read more... )