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.

It's been many a day.

So now I have started University. It's fine, trundling along well, even if I do seem to know the content of the lectures, am unable to stop myself rambling on and have firmly cemented my reputation as the class nerd within the first week. Hurrah for stereotypes, I guess.

Fate, now there's an interesting concept. Up until a month ago I really didn't think such a thing existed, but now, now I'm not so sure. I've run this over and over in my mind and the odds are incredible, yet here we are. Oh well, in this case, fate has been kind. Very kind. :D

I miss not being able to travel on a whim. Oh and fuck you Chaucer, Fuck. You.

Sing, heavenly muse.

Well, first things first i just remembered this is linked to facebook. Why on earth did I set it up to link to that? Oh well.

Nothing interesting to report, save a rather nice surprise a week or so ago. It does make me wonder what will happen. I hope for the best, and the future's all about potentiality isn't it, we'll see. Still, w00t.

Will hit 21 in a week's time, thing is, I don't feel particularly old. I sure as hell don't feel 21, more like 18/19. Still, will be a nice quiet day, with luck.

Reread the da vinci code recently, wondering why i bothered, though it's rather guiltily enjoyable it doesn't leave you feeling enriched like reading something of higher calibre does. It's the literary equivalent of junk food. Perhaps it will serve as stepping stone for people who don't usually read. At any rate, moved onto Cunliffe's short introduction to the Celts now, should be interesting.

Adieu, etc.