Future.

I want to do something monumental. Something that defines me, who I am and what I want to be. At the age of 21 most people are setting out into the world, whereas I, the late git that I am, am in my first year of University. As such, I'm pretty much stuck in this town for the next three years.

Talking last night reignited my desire to travel, to set out on the road in a Kerouac fashion, full of existential angst. But that's not going to happen, not properly. The road won't be neverending, the end is always in sight. Perhaps after University I can travel properly, linger in remote places, fashionable cities and medieval alleyways.

Speaking of University, I don't know what to think about it. So far, It's been sadly easy, though of course it'll no doubt change. But I can't shake the fact that I don't belong here. The essays don't flow like they used to, my passion for the written word has disappeared along with my concentration. There are flashes of my old self, like the last sputtering efforts of a lightbulb, but what will I do when it is inevitably extinguished?

Another emo entry.

I think I can actually sum this up in far fewer words than I was originally going to. I'm going to have this sadness with me forever, it's not going to fade, as I agreed with a friend the other day, some people are different. Some people don't fit in, some people aren't meant to be part of the pack. If you want to connect to us, you have to yell at us, scream at us. Drag us back to reality, tell us how you feel and how what we say affects you, because without it we just won't get it. But /damn/ if this doesn't make some good art.

Tell us how you feel.

That was

very strange. To know your similarity to a film/book character is to lose a part of yourself, and yet gain another. Does it necessarily follow, therefore, that if one knows someone else in a similar situation.. well quite.

Tomorrow, I shall be walking to college, not quite what I wanted to be doing on my week off, but it's unavoidable.

Well

I was going to spend today doing essay prep, instead I woke up at two pm, staggered around for a bit being generally disturbed by seeing myself in a mirror and drank tea while reading the New Scientist on the landing for a few hours. A satisfying day.

Ever..

Had something to say, and yet you physically can't say it? Yeahhhhh

Effort.

I should probably shave or something, and wash my hair. I'm beginning to look like a dishevelled artist, or even worse, a hipster. I also need to buy a blazer and a winter coat, perhaps a pea-coat. Again, effort.

First essay finished, just need to go into College on my week off to print it and hand it in, cover sheet was.. interesting, shall we say.

Watched SF10 last night, my similarity to Brian is apparent. Oh and it's.. scary.

Somewhat confused about the whole other thing, whether to say anything or not, or whether my thoughts are even known. It's all so arsing complicated. Still, I really doubt.. but maybe? Why do males always have to be assertive. It's bloody crippling for a shy kid.

I think I'm in love with my coffee machine, it's so.. wonderful. The age of it too, it looks like a 1930's percolator, even if it is from the 60's.

Travelling. I want to travel, to escape. Escape is good, right?

Schoolings.

I'm writing in here more and more of late. I don't know whether it's reflective or reflexive, though no matter what the cause I shall not stop. While the muse is with me, I'll let the thoughts flow, 'til writer's block encroaches once more.

That was almost poetic. Though this is more stream of consciousness than planned blog. Strange, though I know a few people read this, I know of a few, it's strange insofar as I'm actually typing to no one in particular, more to myself or to the great blogger in general.

Today was strange, I awoke at four am in a cold sweat for no reason I could discern, feeling incredibly ill yet completely awake. Even stranger was the fact that that was the time I have been going to bed for the past few weeks. A massive 'oi' from my body clock, I suppose? Nevertheless, it was rather unpleasant.

Also realised today that I have an essay due in on November the fifth, which is going to add to the already mounting work related stress that I'm under. Oh joy of joys. At least I'll be able to get it done well before deadline and then flee the country to pastures new (ish) for a few days. It shall all be rather epic!

I've basically spent today sitting in a room with sneezing people for seven hours, with an average of a sneeze every four minutes or so (yes, I counted, yes I was bored). So if I hadn't caught anything before, I definitely shall now, knowing how lousy/non-existent my immune system appears to be.

While not being exposed to the common cold, I spent the day immersed in Russian Formalism and Metaphysical poetry. The latter I have covered pretty much to death back at AS level, the former was interesting, though I have a feeling I should really not read so much about the lecture topic before attendance. It rather ruins the joy of learning something new.

Oh well, toodle-pip and all that.

Harrumph.

I have no idea what on earth is going on. When there's a sudden change in attitude, it really kicks you in the balls. Whether it's your fault or otherwise, you don't know because things aren't bloody clear. Yes, this is a moan/whinge/whatever. But I bloody well need it. All I'm left with tonight is wonderings and worry. Especially as I was going to do something anyway. Bah. I'm going to bed.

Essays and such things.

Well I'm on my third draft of writing this essay, about eight hundred words in, should get most of it done by tonight if my concentration holds. Done a lot today, pretty much everything apart from getting on with this essay, I really need more focus if I'm going to get through this degree with a good mark.

People urging me to make a move. Still unsure. Meh.

700 words to go, running out of chocolate. Blast.

Procrastination.

I really should be writing an essay on English degree course expectations, yet the words for that don't seem to flow as easily as the stream of consciousness that this blog is composed of. I'm sitting here, with the typical cup of coffee, attempting to write a fifteen hundred word essay on course expectations, how the course has met these or otherwise, and what I thought of terms such as literary canon, theory and the like. Oh what joy.

On a somewhat more sombre note, my cat is dying. Eye cancer, had it for a while, always knew it wasn't operable, yet of late she's hardly eaten anything. It'd be easier to bear if she didn't follow me around with a folorn look in her eyes, as though she *knows* her time has come. Still, we've thought she's a gonner before, there's hope, however minimal, if she starts eating again.

What does it say about my character that at the first sign of trouble I want to flee the country? My degree course, though the lectures are wonderful and the banter stimulating is somewhat tempered by the fact that the essays are so utterly dry. I wish there was a better way of assessing a student's progress than my making them write a fifteen hundred word essay, within such strict guidelines. It'd be much more illuminating having a discussion with an tutor/examiner over a cup of tea and biscuits. Though that would of course remove such things as objectivity in the marking process.

I dreamed about flying to America, to San Francisco and opening a bohemian café filled with artists, poets and writers. I'd sit all day drinking coffee and discussing culture with the patrons, not worrying about such things as profits and money.. oh well it's a dream isn't it? One that may happen one day.

So, I've been thinking that perhaps plotting and planning far ahead isn't the best of ideas. Live for the moment? But if only some things were easier, and clearer. Males are supposed to be assertive, to show dominance. But if only females were much clearer in what they want, two utterly shy people isn't a good combination for assertion. Courage, courage they say, yet there is always risk. When the consequences of what could be a misunderstanding are quite dramatic, it could ruin everything, couldn't it? I'll let the other party decide and say, if they want anything.

Que pena?

As always, I find my solace in tea and books. I do hope this doesn't give anybody who's reading this the impression of the tortured artist, because I'm merely contemplative. Not to mention that I'm neither tortured, nor an artist. I'm a neurotic writer&poet, if you want to label me as anything.

I have this little sketch I drew right next to me, it's of a tree, with two people sat underneath it looking at the stars. Perhaps if I practice then I might actually have some talent with drawing, but then again something always distracts me.

Adieu, for now.

Oh my days.

Hello.

While I'm writing this

I could be starting one of the two essays that are due. Procrastination is the name of the game of late, why toil on something when there are much more interesting things to do instead. Which leads me onto spontaneity. I used to think I was quite a shy person, well that's been proved quite.. wrong? No I don't think so. But I'm sure I'm more confident these days. Perhaps it was because I was meeting a person that I somehow.. knew I'd get on with irl. That would give one an air of confidence wouldn't it? No matter. I am happy, but still, the mind wanders and ponders on future things, possibilities and such things. Can one know the mind of another, can one take the next step into uncertainty?

The long, long hair has gone. Never to return, people seem to really like the change, and so do I. Bloody cold neck though, perhaps a scarf is in order. With the advent of winter comes the advent of more work, essays and seminars to present. I was looking forward to the essays, until I realised that it's bloody difficult to keep to one single topic in a paragraph, how can one link to other topics without doing so. It's a skill I shall have to master.

Paris was enchanting, couldn't have hoped for a better weekend. Still, fuck Luton Airport.

I think another late night on msn awaits.

Yay.