I’ve been labouring under the delusion that April had thirty-one days. I’ve no idea why, but that’s what I thought, so I was putting off coming up with something good to post for the last day of BEDA. Unfortunately, I just realised that the last day of BEDA is today. It’s a quarter to nine in the evening, and I need to finish an essay for art that has me considerably stressed, and then go and start re-reading To Kill A Mockingbird in order to plan for an English essay. And then do the entire chapter review for my science homework. And then do the seemingly endless list of things that need to be complete before Monday.

It’s the third day of term, and it’s a Saturday. Whose bright idea was it to put all of the assessments in the first three weeks?

I’ve spent the day looking at pictures of nude women and reading about mentally ill men who took mistresses forty-something years younger than themselves and abused children. In other words, art theory. I swear, that class is borderline studies of pornography. Now that I’ve mentioned pornography, I’ll probably be swamped with spam. That’s what happened last time I mentioned something along those lines.

Something rather interesting and incredibly humorous has developed in my house this past few days. My youngest brother, Pat, and I are very alike. We both obsess over fictional characters and plunge headfirst into fictional worlds, and we both go through phases of obsession. I’ve found that as I’ve got older, rather than subsiding, the passionate phases have just turned into long-term obsessions, however, for Pat, they’ve just week or even day-long periods of intense obsession.

His current one? Kung Fu. He’s been reading a book series recently, entitled “The Five Ancestors”, and while I’ve never read it, from what I’ve gathered, it’s about Kung Fu. Well, is he obsessed? Those of you who follow me on twitter will have witnessed my failing to control my fangirling over the characters and plot from the Farseer and Tawny Man trilogies. Those soppy, obsessed tweets have been me exercising extreme control. So now multiply that by about 1.4 billion, and you’ve got the level of obsession my brother is currently boasting. It’s a lot.

I heard a thump earlier this afternoon, and walked to the bathroom to find him, about to shower, swinging on the shower rail and attempting to launch himself onto the bathroom wall and backflip. How he managed not to pull the shower down on himself and break both legs at the same time is beyond me. Ten minutes later, I walk past his room to see him practising Kung Fu moves to his mirror. He spents every minute that it isn’t raining on the trampoline trying to do acrobatics with a plastic sword in each hand, and every minute that it is raining inside construction lego models of Shaolin temple, and choreographing Kung Fu battles with the tiny lego minifigures. When he goes on the computer, he does quizzes to see what animal style of Kung Fu he would be, and walks around the house attempting to speak Cantonese to my mum. It’s unstoppable. He’s even enrolled himself in Kung Fu lessons.

The only thing I can say for this is that it’s better than his previous obsessions. At one point in his life, he had his heart set on growing up to be a ‘Sparkly-Boy’. That’s exactly what it sounds like it is.

Apologies for a substandard post to finish off the month of April, but I’ve got an essay to write, an essay to plan, a novel to read, chapter review questions to do, Bible passages to memorize and a plethora of other jobs to do before Monday, so I need to get cracking. It’s going to be strange, after having settled into the rhythm of bashing out a blog every day, to suddenly not have to. You’ll probably hear from me again in about a week when I’ve stopped tearing my hair out and have regained my creative juices. Either that, or by some cruel twist of fate, I’m swamped with blog ideas and motivation to write immediately after I don’t have to do so anymore. In which case, angst. Have a great beginning of May, and don’t forget to pinch and punch your whole family at some obscenely early hour to remind them that you’re supreme and immature and all that… Funny, in twenty minutes I’ve bashed out a blog with almost the exact word count I need for this art essay, and yet I’ve been working on the essay for all of today. That’s depressing. Goodnight.