23/1/10

Before I continue, let me say one very important thing clear. I love Shakespeare, the language, the metre and the wit. Nevertheless, FUCKING HELL it's dense sometimes. When you don't read an entire play in one go it loses the magic. The sense of continuation, intricate plot lines and sheer charm just dissipates into archaic language. Case in point, was reading Lear a few weeks ago, then got distracted at the beginning of the last act, causing me to shelve it for a while. Today, I picked it up and resumed. Nothing. The delight I felt when reading act after act had gone. Sure, the tricks of language were charming, but nothing approaching what I felt when reading previously.

I suppose the moral of the story is to always read your Shakespeare in one go.

So it goes (again)

I'm back to writing long, rambling blog entries. Although I don't really write here for anyone other than myself, therefore I don't have to worry about succinctness of expression and clarity of thought, I still like to add a little bit of sharpness to my blogging. I attempt to fashion a sharpness of writing that aids me in other literary endeavours, such as essay and prose writing. Nevertheless, as I have hinted at, I have let this slip of late and decided to let this be. Stream of consciousness for the win, as they barely say.

Family visited here yesterday. As readers know I'm not a massive fan of children, but your own family always seems a bit different. My nephew seems quite attached, yet confused concerning me. I suppose it's because I have red hair, yet he rarely sees me. Therefore I should be part of his 'world' and yet I'm alien. Very confusing for a one year old. He's quite a fun little one anyway, he came into my room yesterday and started dancing to the music I had on. Seeing a one year old attempting to headbang to Converge is always a good thing.

There's some makeshift bookshelves on the landing. Winebottle crates or something, from Cambridge University. It almost seems right that I'm using them to store my existentialist and classics books. They also have the advantage of being tall and deep enough to hold my Nortons. Now anyone studying English Literature shall know the sheer volume of those tomes is enough to challenge many a shelf, but these are able to resist.

There's a little over a fortnight 'til I return to University. Well, 'return', I really mean 'until lectures restart'. There's a guest lecture on tomorrow, something about elements of the occult and esoteric in modern Lit, but whether I'll attend or not is up in the air at this point.

2 weeks, four books to read. Should be quite doable.

Another update.

Well again there's been a massive gap between my last post and this entry. I wish I could claim that it's due to some sort of interesting business, but it isn't. My life at the moment is quite dull, consisting of WoW and attempting to think of something interesting to do. That's including the obligatory putting off studying.

Speaking of studying, it's around twenty days until I return to University and find out how I did on those four essays. I'm not exactly nervous, but I'm not exactly thrilled when it comes to finding out how I did. Placid, is the word I'm looking for I think.

As an English student, it's ironic that the books that have grabbed my interest as of late are History books. Before we get into the whole new historicism/criticism dichotomy, I'd like to point out that it's quite irrelevant. The book in question that's currently got me by the gonads is Niall Furguson's Colossus, in which Furguson is acting as an apologist for Imperialism and specifically modern day American Imperialism. Now normally I wouldn't agree at all with the concepts of globalisation and interference in other country's affairs, but this has challenged my ideas.

The periods in history of greatest stability have always coincided with a great power, ordering society and imposing laws and peace. When there's no great world power, everything goes to hell. Since the fall of the soviet empire, America's the only superpower we have left, and if it declines, the world stage will lack the fear of someone in the background that might come and kick arse if someone misbehaves. Yet at the same time is there to aid and help developing countries. As the author put it, a velvet glove concealing an iron fist. If it retreats into itself as some within the American political system are arguing, then we'll see another period of anarchy and constrained development.

Ferguson's point is clear and convincingly put, which for someone such as myself is certainly worrying - that the world needs an empire, and a liberal benevolent empire could do a great deal of good. However, I remain yet to be convinced, I think some of the bonuses are somewhat overstated and are in many ways demeaning to developing nations.

Anyway, back away from that mini book review, I've been attempting to sort my sleeping pattern out. So far it's been pretty successful, seeing as I've been getting up the sunny side of midday.

I shall end with a statement few could disagree with. Earl Grey tea is wonderful.

The end of the year.

Well here we are, at the end of another year. I'm sat here with not much to do, except in the company of a lot of books and video games. You always hope and hope for the work to be over, without actually thinking of what you'll do when it actually is. What is here, however, is snow. Quite a bit of it, perhaps even enough to last for a white christmas? Doubtful, but a nice thought. I mean, I don't even particularly celebrate Christmas, so I don't know what I'm doing wishing for a snowy one. Harking back to some manufactured idyll I suppose, it's all rather Dickensian, except without the crushing poverty.

Bioshock

Well as the title suggests, I've finally gotten around to playing Bioshock properly now all my assignments are handed in. It's really rather good, the storyline is immense and the action perfectly balanced. As a result, I'm quite looking forward to the sequel, just a few months away. Will give me time to have another run through it, not to mention pick up and play assassin's creed 2.

Speaking of assignments, It's a strange feeling to be free of them. There's no longer a little voice in the back of my head telling me to work, work work. It's brilliant timing, then, that I'm now ill. Though it wouldn't have been that nice to have been ill during my assignments, and there's never a good time to be ill, having my leisure time taken up with being weaker than a newly born kitten isn't exactly how I envisaged spending my Christmas break.

French

I'd just like to devote an entire blog entry to saying how utterly ridiculous the French numerical system is once it gets into the nineties. I mean seriously Quatre-vingt-dix-neuf is just vaguely ridiculous.

Essays!

Yes, essays. I'm writing, or supposed to be writing a lot of them at the moment. I did write two, think they were quite good, then put them to the side. But upon closer inspection, they were a bit crap, so after rewriting one over the course of 10 hours, I'm attacking the other one tomorrow before starting on the final two. Then there's just the question of some history reading to do.. which of course I'm not behind on *cough*