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.