Hi me
I'm glad blogger keeps these sites. I like being able to meet the me of six years ago. (I'm almost completely not her, physically/biologically - we're replaced every seven years). I agree with her, though. I still love my Dad. Duffs Rd is still Paradise. The All Blacks are still... good. :)
I'm writing (read: contemplating and planning to write) a letter to myself as I'll be in ten years... It's a balancing act, I think. Is it? Why?
Anyway. English lecture in 30 minutes: I'd better get ready.
Bye me.
Bonjour à Minuit
It's 12:21, just after midnight. The cat has just pushed through the doorway and is letting all the heat out, silly pretty thing. She'll curl up on my duvet, warmed by the electric blanket below... Ah, how I wish I could snuggle up in all that gorgeous, comfortable softness. But no: I have procrastinated, and now I've an assignment to finish.
I missed this. It might be a little odd, but the classes I most enjoyed were the ones that drove me to pull all-nighters, just to get work finished. I'm thinking of History, with a teacher who would embarrass you in front of the class: a very kind man, but not a patient one when it came to homework. Now, at uni, it's much worse. No talking-to, no negotiation. I can't look studious and abashed and ask for a day's extension - now, I need to maim myself. Rather seriously.
But then, there must be a reason why I always end up doing this. There's procrastination, of course, but that's the symptom: the root cause, I think, is that I enjoy the pressure. I like challenging myself, I like having a goal. I have fond memories of being hunched over the kitchen table at quarter past two in the morning, colouring pencils in hand, putting the finishing touches to a Social Studies cover page. I must have been thirteen, and I can still see Mum's exasperation - but that cover page was wonderful. I was very proud. It's happened quite a few times since. Essays, in particular... Oh, the essays. Mary McDonald. King James I. The Aeneid. Add every speech I ever did at high school: The Sight, Phar Lap, Amnesty International, Hamlet. Countless English exercises. Two magazines, one in History each year. One of those I'm sure I was still sticking together at my seat in class the next day. Ah, and Biology assignments: my poster on... What was it? DNA? The crab experiment, as well.
This is very stupid, I her you say. It is. It won't work for uni, either: even I'm not silly enough to think I can get a degree with work done at the last moment.
That said, there's something wonderful about sitting before a half-filled screen in the early hours of the morning, delving deep into the transient quality of thought as it relates to different forms of media, or the political successes of English monarchs between 1558 and 1640. It's especially good when you've just discovered the French version of your favourite Disney movie, and are listening to the prologue of La Belle et la Bête.
Wonderful.
[ Side note: la bête est féminin ? Toujours 'une' bête ? C'est étrange. I wonder what the etymology is there... ]
100th Post!
Well this is... good.
Blogger finally let m back in - it involved simply deleting every single cookie on the computer.
Damnit, I've been trying for weeks and now I'm here, there's nothing to say. Let's take this as a learning experience. :P
National Novel Writing Month
NaNoWriMo
My sister took part in this last year (with great success!) and as she's busy with exams this year managed to talk me into it. So, I write - without any plan, characters, or plot points. I was a blank slate as this began, in that wonderfully receptive but outwardly oafish phase that made me look like an idiot in English class. This is the day on which you ask me no questions, Mr Wallace!
I'm simply writing, enjoying the act of creation and exploring the ideas that bounce around inside my head. I'm also trying not to think too much about Jess when she did this: I remember her excitement, her passion for it. She's a writer, most definitely. I've just trusting that some the strength of the countless books I've read has rubbed off on me! So far, I've discerned some of Karen Armstrong's History of God, quite a bit of Robert Jordan, and maybe a tiny piece of Victor Hugo's Notre Dame. Smidgens of The Jackal of Nar?
So, other than that wonderfully varied masterpiece-in-the-making, this last week has been an attempt to find some shape (having gladly eaten two months' worth of traditional English food when overseas), get a job (fingers crossed!) and make the final arrangements for funding my studies next year. Oh joyous lists.
Does it need saying that this entry is an attempt to procrastinate? A very successful one, too. :-D Might go do that some more.
Labels: nanowrimo
