crudeness, numbers, sobbing heaps, grown ups

so, being unable to totally let go of the whole not-that-great-grades issue, i sent off sundry emails to various parties, emails that were in turn, polite, inquisitory, hinty and finally scary. as a result of these efforts, i managed to make a date with my favourite.... tutor, to go and hash it out. this was my agenda, besides gazing fondly at said tutor's absurdly pink face, once more. his was to say 'get over it dearie, and grow up'. both of us were frustrated in our ambitions, as it happened.

i had thought the worst that could happen was that he would stand me up. second worst would have been my going there, sitting around simpering for 20 minutes and leaving with no answers. another possibility was that of my throwing a tantrum and still not getting any answers. that's the one he expected i think. the first 2 minutes' conversation was rather ginger.

what i did however was beyond imagination, beyond shame, beyond even funny. upon starting to plead my case, i suddenly choked up. the whole of last year and the amount of love i invested in it, in many many respects, swam before my eyes. and i had nothing to say, really, except a few squeaks now and then about 'i need to know WHY'. while he, poor thing, peered harder and harder through the new thick framed german architect looking glasses (a birthday present from our oedipus's mum), slumped lower and lower in his chair in an attempt to understand and possibly alleviate, whetever. and finally when i attempted a frantic exit with remaining shreds of dignity, big grin on face and wet cheeks, he tried to say the kind of magic words he always does, to make it all go away. i ran away fast, sniffling like a stoat, snuffling like a sow, tumbling down my Y building stairs, hurtling past the pretty framed view i keep a picture of still, with no answers, no hope, some pain, and lots of satisfaction. disgusting.