The concept of philosophy and I do not get on.  For its part, it reminds me of things I'll never quite understand the beauty of - maybe this is how some people see mathematics, like there's something in it that might be the answer but it's beyond all reach no matter how hard they try.  For my part, I have just taken its name in vain fairly dramatically.  If this were a one-off, okay, fair enough.  But there we go.

 

The point being "listening to Pink Floyd and being philosophical" roughly translates to sticking Echoes on and bawling my eyes out for ten minutes straight.  Why, you ask?  It's my own bloody fault, I reply.  My own fault for thinking about things too much over the last few days, and for reading over MSN conversations from a year or more back (you know the ones, the ones that don't really qualify as conversations, if I'm honest), and for yes, well, wearing baggy clothes and thinking about gender stereotypes.  I used to tell myself that my penchant for baggy jumpers is just a sign I'm secure of myself, that I don't really need to show off.  Also that I'd prefer people to judge me by my conversation or intellect or whatever, whatever you want to call it, personality or something completely different.  That's true, at least, I really do.  But ohmygod I'm turning into a textbook...

 

Somebody complimented me the other day in such a way that I smell a rat about ulterior motives.  Maybe I'm just being over-sensitive about these things, but everything changes in the telling so I'm a little loath to confer over it.

 

Two things to note from the past two days:

And now, it being a quarter past midnight and feeling in an adequately headachey, light-sensitive stupor, I shall go to bed.  Place your bets on my waking up at half past six again.  At least tomorrow, for the first time in about a month, I get a lie-in.  I'm quite impressed by my late-night typing skills.  Cheers.

This morning, I hit what I like to call the Wall.  An expression taken originally from marathon runners, I apply it usually to coursework and exams, and it consists of the moment when I've reached a certain weight and a certain caffeine intake as a percentage of total calories (usually about 30-40%, I imagine, the remaining 60% consisting mostly of gummy bears), and a certain level of involuntary sleep deprivation, where I just sit down with whatever work I have to do, of which there tends to be a mounting list by this point, and I just get on with it.  No more excuses, no more procrastinating.  I get on with it because it is all-absorbing and at this stage my stress levels have got to the stage where I ought to be counting the hours for it to be over.  But I don't.  Because when I'm like this I thrive and I absolutely love it.  And this only happens normally two weeks before coursework deadlines, or a select few externally moderated exams, where I'd rather shut myself off and concentrate solely on getting on with it than normal conversation, or actually seeing people or eating lunch or any of those exquisitely normal things about college that usually stop me going crackers.

 

So if anyone starts to get worried about me, please don't.  Also if I shun your company I am sorry and I appear to be out of my mind at the moment.

 

I wonder, for in all likelihood the first time in my life, if Spiderman felt like this.

 

Another thing I'd like to talk about if only to get it out: my parents are arguing today, in the pistols-at-dawn way earlier, although we've subsided somewhat into trench warfare.  The upshot of this is that everyone's on different computers in different rooms, which I find somewhat farcical; also that I cooked supper.  For some reason, the less time I have of an evening the more I enjoy cooking, and an hour of making fajitas and farting about with bits of red pepper is just what I wanted, and entirely therapeutic.  It also had the added bonus of keeping everyone happy (aka, there was a vegetarian option and it wasn't boring) but their arguing always gets me down more than I like to mention especially now that Lily is oblivious and I am Independent Adjudicator.  I thought I'd mention this on the grounds that I need a hug and it's no goddamned use.  So there we go.

There's a sort of hunted look by which you can tell if a student has started their exams - some of the LVIs are showing signs of it already, by which apparently you can also tell if they're taking General Studies seriously, seeing as it was on Monday.  A few other people are going quiet, and starting or failing to turn up to lessons, everyone seems to be reacting in a different way.  I wonder: until their first exams, how many people realise how close they are?  A WEEK TODAY, I say, so maybe I've got that hunted look too.  Or maybe things rest more on the next few weeks for me than for some other people.  After all, straight As, it's tough.

 

Yes alright, you have it tough too.  Shall I shut up now?  I'm not belittling you in any way.  I'm merely pointing out that I'm starting to fail to sleep as well, and that if I don't get this then everything I've planned for is going to be non-existent.  Also, I have been disappointed to some extent in every public exam I have ever sat.  Frankly I am as worried as they come.

 

On another note, (beware, there is a rant coming on here, I was talking to a Lit student this morning) William Blake is a liar and a fraud.  I have read a little of his poetry today.  It is my humble opinion that "Songs of Innocence and Experience" at least is pro-establishment, pro-monogamy and about naivete and cynicism as opposed to innocence and experience, also that it advocates living in a dream world and ignoring what is around you as opposed to facing up to the truth, and as far as I am told (which admittedly amounts to fifteen minutes' conversation and whatever I can find on Wikipedia) Romanticism is rather supposed to advocate the truth.  And yes of course you can read into it as being about Sex And The Church.  But then, you could do that to anything.  People who insist upon describing anything vaguely tubular, or even tall - no scratch that even just longer than it is wide, the shape doesn't matter - as phallic deserve what they get.  (Anyone who has anything whatsoever to say to this please comment/message me, I promise not to have a go at you but I'd really love to be explained to where I've gone wrong.)

 

On the other hand he wrote "Jerusalem", so he can't have been all bad.  My back is still up though.

 

Any discussion on this subject highly welcomed.

 

To lower the tone slightly, *omgwow* apparently this blog comes up on Google searches.  I am a little awestruck.

Well, it's Pentecostal Sunday which is ever so lovely but the lunatics once again are out in force.  Lock all your doors, the people who think they're speaking in Aramaic without realising it have arrived, and they've been on an Alpha course too so they're Qualified.  Lock up your children.  Has anyone the heart to tell little old ladies they're not speaking in Tongues, it is actually gibberish?  You heartless bastard.  Of course you wouldn't.

 

I've been wading through Amazon US again and it scares me.  Don't like internet shopping.  Don't like shipping costs.  Don't like dollars, they scare me, although it's quite nice taking every price I see and mentally dividing by two.  Want a nice quiet bookshop where I can browse EVERYTHING (in fact, I just want to buy the British Library, right?) and take a particular book away under cover of my jumper.  Hurrah.

 

Better be off due to actually having to do some work today, may update this later if I can be bothered... which invariably at the moment I can't, sorry.

For the clouds and the snooker, they are all gone.  The former is a fantastic thing, the latter: well, good for Ronnie.  I have made up for this sudden gap in my life (three weeks, shh) by reading a book with a really good snooker player in it.  Also a Russian and some hash.  And that's just the first chapter.  Apparently there are two second chapters.  This amuses me somewhat.  (It's "The Post-Birthday World" by Lionel Shriver in case you think I'm joking.  I'm really not.)

 

I would also like to draw your attention to a milestone that occurred yesterday, that most of you might not see as a big thing but I really do: I wore a skirt to college.  For the second time ever, and the first time in over a year.  I do not like wearing skirts, normally, due to an unhealthy disgust for my own knees.  But "How to Look Good Naked" does strange things to a girl, so skirt and heels it was, and a nice day for it too.  This is a Revelation.

 

Finished "The Book Thief" yesterday on the bus; if you only read one book this year make it that one.  Forget Jonathan Strange, or Nineteen Eighty-Four, or Wuthering Heights.  It will change your perspective on everything and if you are anything like me you will have to read it in private, because facing the world directly after you've finished it is difficult.  It's also beautiful.

 

Think that's about it for the time being.  Also, I'm hungry.  Priorities, yes indeed.

 

 

*UPDATE*  First water fight of the year!!  It's officially Summer.  Grin.

...I'm home alone tonight.  For probably another hour or so.  So I've decided to do it properly, in the sort of way I imagined I would, back when I imagined myself living alone.  It's strange, for ages my dream house was a studio flat by myself in an inner city.  The fact that it no longer is can be attributed directly to M: when you don't know anyone you could stand to be around for that long at a stretch, it's a whole lot more difficult to envisage living with them.  But anyway.  The point of this is, home alone.

 

I celebrated with a short episode of what I like to call Freezer Roulette, and having discovered a pack of two-for-one frozen prawns that didn't look too grey (the sell-by date was April, I'm not sure which but they haven't killed me yet so it can't be too bad), and raided Good Housekeeping which is my culinary Bible, I made about five portions of grilled prawns in garlic butter (which is like heaven in a shellfish, really.  The secret I've found is in the lemon juice) and my own recipe peppery chips.  I have overeaten; about half a dozen of each still remain.  My throat is feeling a lot more awake for its recent exposure to peppercorns and garlic, and the house smells deliciously of buttery sauces, which is on my list of favourite smells in the world (along with bread and early morning in the woods, in case you're wondering).  I am also certain I have eaten my body weight in saturated fat, but oh well.  Like you could tell.

 

And now I'm watching the deciding frame of the Snooker World Championships semi-final (Carter v Perry; 16-15, best of 33.  NAILBITER) and trying to work out if I'm more concerned about Ali Carter's snooker playing or the fact that he is ever so cute when he concentrates.  Honestly.  Grow up, girl, get your hormones in order.  Pssh.

 

Computer being slow.

 

Ali Carter v Ronnie O'Sullivan.  Now there's a match worth seeing.

Well done London, congratulations on knowing exactly what is good for you and choosing as your mayor the man who has effectively insulted most ofther UK cities and a number of small countries.  You know you're stuck with him during the Olympics now, right?

 

He finished his acceptance speech with "Let's get cracking tomorrow, and let's have a drink tonight."  I don't know quite how standard this is but WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!

 

On the other hand, it got a lot of people voting, which can't be a bad thing.

 

Also to note that the Tories have taken Southampton.  Gutted.

 

M playing Scrabble: not impressed.  Not in the least bit impressed.

 

 

SOMETHING AMUSING:

I heard a fantastic physicist joke the other day.  Everyone should hear it; if you understand it consider yourself a geek.  It was told to me by S on the bus yesterday, and successfully made my afternoon.  Apparently it has been featured on the Big Bang Theory, but I haven't seen that.  Unfortunately, as it seems, sounds good.  But anyway.  Here you go, then.

 

There's a farmer, and he wants his chickens to lay more eggs.  So he calls a physicist in, and the physicist takes some measurements, and does some calculations, and then comes back to the farmer.  "I've found a solution," he says, "but it only works for spherical chickens in a vacuum."

 

SOMETHING SCARY:

Now, boys and girls, we have something very special in our bodies and it's called an immune system.  For this reason, we haven't all got half a dozen diseases each, we're not all already dead, or ill, or blind in one eye with gammy legs.  Therefore, for FUCK's sake, your computer keyboards aren't going to kill you either.  So bloody GROW up and stop making a fuss out of nothing.  This applies to the BBC too.  HONESTLY.