So i have not made it into oxford, and having soaked it up, just about, am possibly relieved. I'll admit It has bludgeoned my ever more frequent autumnal palleted day dreams, of life amongst the dreaming spires in a scarf, jacket, thesis and library loaned books clenched under armpit, corrugated coffee mug warming my other hand wearing a veneer that i could barely sustain at the open day. Have heard numerous rationales from family and friends today, and am beginning to feel incredibly guilty for the surge of relief that soared when i heard of a fellow applicants dismissal. My aunt told me of the surprisingly low level of intellect she studied amongst at cambridge, and of the oxbridge tendency to favour regurgitator's . Academic rejection however civilly phrased is still a dent, albiet temporary, to entertainment of my future prospects. Decided though prefer the egalitarian aesthetic and overall idea of studying at UCL if i don't get in there, then will have to resort to taking up bridge jumping.
Have reavulauted performance in H.A.T, perhaps radical indictment of anglican and catholic church for remaining to be overtly misogynistic , in response to a 14th century testimonial from a monasteries monk wasn't the best idea. Also bitter critique of capitalism
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