So Irgendwie

Three Days

2009-07-12T01:22:52Z

In three and a half days I graduate. And on that day, llieno will be retired. I'm moving to scattermoon (~~and why not as I seem to be moving everywhere else as well!~~). Please add that journal if you wish to continue to read my updates, since I'm basically friends-only these days. I'm sticking here for just a little while more and will post at least one more reminder, but this is the big 'Heads Up'.

In other brief news, I saw a spider do a vertical backflip on the wall earlier. I'd have clapped had I not been having a shower.

Degree Classification

2009-06-25T17:55:46Z

Dear Elaine,

I have just been given the delightful opportunity (as the person in charge of the German exams) to let you know the outcome of your studies and examinations: you have been awarded the BA in German and History with First Class Honours. It is a splendid result and so well deserved. Many congratulations!

With my very best wishes for the future,

Ann

I GOT A FIRST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cymru

2009-05-25T12:13:35Z

Off to Wales in 50 minutes with Writers' Circle. I wasn't going to go, but then I figured I could go for half the time, and I knew at least three of my close friends were going...although now it turns out one of them isn't, ironically partially because I wasn't going...

The Brecon Beacons and Writing. Should be fun, hopefully, and maybe having a few days away will help right now. I get back on Wednesday sometime.

And don't forget to wear the lilac! (howdotheyrise)

The End

2009-05-22T11:04:54Z

I have just completed my degree.

It's over

and the final word of it all was 'einfach'...

now to join the other German finalists on the Quad and begin an afternoon of relaxation and celebration

:)

She'll be Sunny Someday

2009-05-07T16:04:05Z

Dissertation complete.

It's over.

...

.

Cruelty through Coincidence

2009-05-06T15:17:59Z

...so. One of the things about my dissertation has been that neither my tutor nor anyone else in the History department knows much about my subject area. My German tutors know slightly more, but still very little...

My main source for my dissertation is Daniela Berghahn, who wrote 'Hollywood behind the Wall'.

...turns out she's based HERE in the Media Arts department.

One of the world experts on my subject matter, and I've walked past her window so many times.

...I wish I'd known this earlier!!! It's too late to ask for supervision now, and all I can do is send her a copy of my dissertation...which suddenly seems like a terrifying prospect, considering she'll probably just say I'm repeating what she said in her book...

Aaargh.

(Also, icon is from one of the films I'm writing about! It's actually one of the better DEFA films and, dare I say it, totally watchable. Plus, it's got a catchy soundtrack.)

I return...

2009-04-24T19:28:07Z

I walk through the gardens
and stop
at the lake with the branches
kissing the water with more grace
than the squabbling ducks and
the sole sentinal of the swan
watching me as
I watch the ripples on the water
in the pastel painted picture
of the evening sunlight and
I feel like singing that song
your song that you never wrote
for me

Solitude in a sunset sanctuary
peace perfected on the lakeshore
but not within me
for I look through the ripples
on the water to
the other side
and hear your voice telling me
that
on an overture of the leaves' orchestra
the breath of the breeze through
the emerald canopy and
I am back again in the gardens
all alone

so shall I sit upon the shore
lay on the grass with its
sprinkling of daises and there
I shall sleep
whilst still awake as
a squirrel jumps the chasm from
the oak to the horse chestnut
high above me but
before the darkening sky
and the other sky
in the ripples on the water
where I know you are
watching me
as I dream of winter

these gardens are not mine nor
do they belong to the swan
now silently swimming across the surface
nor do they belong to
you
but maybe there is a place
where the twilight shadows will envelop me
where I can hide from
the hyperactive flies twisting in the air
and from you
and from the ripples on the water
distorting the world as if
this lakeshore
was sketched onto my heart
by an artist with a broken pencil
drunk on the white wine of a spring evening

I feel
I shall
make ripples on the water
and make the ducks stop their dance
for a second
and write your song onto the lake
for the setting sun to sing
as I walk back through the gardens
and stop

Writing the Wrongs

2009-04-06T18:40:24Z

Two new poems. I wrote one on Saturday for Audrey's art exhibition, and one just an hour ago while I was waiting for my pizza to cook.

Steps of silent secret sinking
Sunshine shadows in my eyes
The sky is blue, but I am grey
in the cracks between the pavement
A man tumbles past, caught between
a sandwich and mobile phone
and not noticing the girl with
the black boots who is grey
and who steps, one at a time
along and along and she sinks
into the gum-stained concrete

I could tell you everything
between the sets of traffic lights
but you would still never know
what hides between my footsteps
between my boots on the pavement
and the abandoned portrait in my mind
I know my destination but
the storm comes before the silence
and desperately I spiral
passing the woman with the dog

I would take my torment tightly
blow it up and tie the knot
of a pair of bright balloons
that are not grey and
I would run along the pavement
laughing as the street collapes
and ten at a time I leap
up
leaving the concrete and traffic lights
and making my destination
the sanctuary of the sky
as I dream into the heavens
as my black boots cross the clouds

But there is a thread holding me
a thin chord keeping me tied
to the roof of the mini-supermarket
and the stream of the street below
stopping me from drifting away
and never coming back
so I am here, floating over your bedroom
watching you paint as I as remain
laughing between the clouds and the pavement
and I am no longer grey

-----------------------------------------------------

White light descending in
a spiral of brilliant
cleansing,
pure and agonising
in its intensity
as you bathe under its
rabid radiance

Do you know why
you are here today
why you have chosen
to not be given
a choice
even though they
made a promise that
tomorrow would be
sunny in the West
changing to scattered
showers later in
the evening?

You find respite in
the burn
the glorious twist
of the wasteland spotlight
that even now
stares at you with
an unblinking eye
and a raised eyebrow
in vague amusement
at how you struggle
in vain
against the current?

Feel the embrace of
the generator and
let yourself go
when the brightness
turns you all around
and hands you a ticket
for the last train
back tonight
and maybe then the
chance that an answer
could dance onto your
dusty stage
would be raised
like the angels ascending
into their heaven
as you stand still
on the heavy ground
and dream.

Prey, Cease

2009-03-27T17:45:06Z

The Precis

For those wondering what 30% of the a university Translation course mark is determined in:

1) Be given one long article in German - http://www.harvardbusinessmanager.de/strategien/artikel/a-601026.html

2) The Secret of the Obama Brand

Whether you are a personal fan of Barack Obama or not, one thing stands beyond debate – the new CEO of the United States of America has radically changed the rules of the game when it comes to marketing. The rise of the Obama brand is by now the epitome of perfect marketing for many experts, independent from his nationality or political hue. The trade journal ‘Advertising Age’ rightly honoured Barack Obama with the title ‘Marketer of the Year’. The Obama campaign has given the world of marketing a new impetus, and a kind of rebirth of branding, a branding for the people, with the people and by the people.

What is true for politics is all the more true for the economy. It is ultimately a question of marketing – the creation of positive images, the raising of hope, the development of areas of identification and about persuasion and consumption. As with every great and successful brand, Obama succeeded in building a relationship with his target group, a relationship built on trust.

Americans have wished for years that their government would be more strongly led following the example of a commercial enterprise. The truth is, most commercial enterprises can in fact learn a good deal from Barack Obama and his team.

The important findings, which are taken up in this article, range from trend-setting ideas right up to the application of tried and tested tools, which are actually so common that for many brands, they have seemingly gone astray. The achievement of Obama consists particularly in having combined these in a new and fascinating style and manner. The outstandingly co-ordinated marketing machine has brought Obama’s candidacy down the right path, from an unlikely to an inevitable victory.

Thesis 1: Leading with humility, calmness, and an overview!

Obama embodies a new style of leadership – a style, which meets the challenges of a complicated world like no other. With his style of ‘Adaptive Leadership’, he breaks through barriers and achieves lasting change. The ‘visionary’ leader frequently has a clear plan of what he wants, and his team then as a rule implement exactly that, whilst a ‘adaptive’ boss works hard on a such a plan together with the current parties. His goal is to motivate his employees to propose improvements, in order to optimise the process of the enterprise, or even the performance of the brand. The freer they feel with this process, the higher the gain of recognition, and ultimately, the better the results. Obama is successful in establishing an environment, in which employees can articulate their ideas and viewpoints without concern. He had gathered clever and strong-minded heads around him, and is therefore not too proud to adapt his opinion or strategy when the suggestions of his comrades-in-arms are more convincing than his own.

In the style of Lincoln, Obama had often testified that humility is the most important virtue. Humility offers the foundations of his strength of leadership. Self-awareness coupled with modesty encourages a team culture without the stress of dominance of employees. An important recognition for all executives is thus that it is not harmful to be friendly, informal and accessible – humanity and warmth capture hearts and can establish trust. Sincere interest in the remarks of employees and active support of their realisation, combined with personal humility can considerably help bring about a co-operative and enthusiastic working climate.

An indispensable characteristic of every executive and of every brand leader who can radically change the lives of others with their decisions and actions is their discretion. It is the talent to have a calm hand at all times, and the strength to constantly control strong emotions, in order to be able to react level-headedly in extreme situations. Business life is necessarily full of failures. If an enterprise makes no failures, then is on the whole not taking enough risks. Ultimately what is decided is only how these failures are circumvented. Performances of companies and stock prices in a sense also depend on the calmness and level-headedness of the leadership of the enterprise. Executives achieve the acknowledgement of their employees directly through remaining in control in crisis situations of whatever magnitude. Such behaviour causes admiration – encouragement, passion, loyalty, and a high degree of identification are frequently the results.

Barack Obama has won votes with a combination of a presidential aura and a presidential appearance. No question, he is cool. If he has ever beforehand broken into a sweat, no-one has yet remarked on it to him. In the debates, he was consistently unshakable and not did not in the slightest lose his cool, even with attacks that lay well below the belt. Throughout the entire distance of the election campaign, his stateliness and his strength, even with growing burdens, counted towards his integral qualities. Just as Barack Obama had shaken off unappetising attacks with an seemingly almost unreal calm, so should executives and brand leaders respectively react to bad news and unexpected setbacks: with a clear personal approach and convincing credibility.

A very good example for the style and way Barack Obama was so serious with his style of campaign leadership is provided by his speech on election night, after his overwhelming victory was secured. Every contribution was appreciated, no-one was forgotten. First of all, he very convincingly thanked his rival John McCain, who in his opinion had done more for his country, more than most people could appreciate. Afterwards, he thanked his future vice-president, his wife, his daughters, his grandmother and his family. Then he thanked his campaign manager, his chief of strategy, his campaign team and not least his voters, who he would never forget, to whom this election victory truly belonged. The emotional high point of his speech, in which he thanked by name and very personally a voter for her vote, he left to the 106 year-old old Afro-American Ann Nixon Cooper, who hours before had given her best at her vote: “I have no time to die!”

Thesis 2: Expand the playing field, and define new rules!

Whether in business or in politics, we all feel secure in our usual routines and abide by the well-known rules of the game. Enterprises evaluate an initiative as a general success, if it is carried out for the most part in the same style and fashion, as long as it brings marginally better results as a result. What is problematic about this is that the fact that the competition can almost never be outwitted using the old rules. In order to meaningfully grow, you must open up new fields of action and within them be one step ahead of the competitors. You must change the rulebook, or to be more precise, expand it. You must keep watch for new vacancies, and fill these with appropriate energy.

In the Democratic preliminaries, it was Hilary Clinton who has secured the support of the biggest financiers, and thus thought that she had left the competition behind her. Obama knew from the beginning that he must adopt new and fundamentally different approaches. He distinctly relied less on the theme of campaign expenditure from large firms or lobbyists. To him it was clear, that it would be easier for him to receive one dollar from 100,000 supporters than 100,000 dollars from one supporter. By doing this, Obama identified the small contributions for himself, and used the Internet to effectively generate this. This method of collecting donations has changed the future of American campaign financing in the long term. Obama has raised over the course of his campaign in the region of $745 million – more than double the amount McCain could collect. Obama’s campaign expenditure even eclipsed the sum of both candidates of the previous presidential campaign in 2004, George W Bush and John Kerry. The result was a ‘war chest’ that was bulging from the beginning and just kept growing, which Obama made possible, even in the states where he was competing against John McCain which previously has been solid Republican territory. John McCain could do nothing to oppose this.

A brilliant brand leader does not fight for a larger slice of the cake, he far more seeks to bake a bigger cake, in which he can incorporate new customers. Obama targeted not only previous or possible votes with his message. Whilst many politicians cater for “the mobilisation of the base”, Obama went further and mobilised young first voters and previous non-voters. He managed to energise millions of new voters, who as a consequence to some extent became true supporters.

On top of this, Obama let loose the potential of self-organisation, in which he created a hard-hitting, versatile organisation. A strongly controlled core, surrounded by self-organised cells, which consisted of volunteers, contributors, colleagues and other parties, have carried collective responsibility for a great goal. He brought people together, and not only those from his immediate vicinity. Obama was successful at reaching out to people and uniting them despite all geographic, organisational and emotional hurdles, in order to collectively realise the overriding goal – Change. In contrast to this, McCain’s organisation was trapped in a rigid and restricted ‘Command & Control’ corset.

Thesis 3: Take a convincing position, and hold to it!

Obama made his vision for the campaign public a day before the preliminaries of 2006. Shortly after the Democrats had achieved a majority in Congress, he felt that it was time to lead a new style of campaign. Thus he laid the cornerstone for a campaign systematic, which took on board the political disenchantment of the citizens. Obama delivered a simple, consistent and confident promise: ‘change’. He connected this promise with the effective appeal ‘yes we can’. In that he both appealed to the rational wish for change as well as the emotional need for hope, he gave himself, or more specifically his brand, the chance to develop a great movement.

The chosen positioning coincided at all times with the fundamental personal views of Senator Obama, which had already been represented in various publications and speeches. This authentic position found rapid massive appeal amongst the public. Through the impulse-creation of the charismatic figurehead Obama, the abstract hope of transition and change turned into a concrete, collective climate of credibility, feasibility and confidence. In this context, Obama could time and time again prove in a convincing manner that the reported ‘change’ was for him easily more than just a prefabricated calculated campaign slogan. Obama’s electoral success is above all based on his capacity to convince the voters that he embodies a new type of politics, a new type of governance. He would hardly have been able to win without adopting this change and personalising it himself. Thus the voters finally saw in Obama the outstanding qualities of a competent decision-maker, who does not only stand symbolically for change, but still more – a strong and solid personality, that also vouches real change.

As so often, timing was the deciding factor. The country was ripe, even overdue, for a change – not just ripe for the departure of the incumbent Republican government, but also for a renunciation of the established and traditional style and manner of politics. The Americans meaningfully sensed that the misconduct of the government, the international conflicts and a far-reaching loss of reputation had assumed a dangerous level: 70 percent of US-citizens were at this time of the view that the contemporary government found itself on a lost course.

A present strength of the Obama campaign was the great reliability with which he held fast to his vision throughout the entire duration of his presidential campaign. In contrast to Obama, Hillary Clinton and John McCain and their campaign strategists time and time again experimented with different visions and promises at different times. With this, they undervalued – not to say neglected – the power of continuity. Too often, politicians change their colours with the wind. Fixed on surveys, their viewpoints in the struggle for various target groups are progressively newly adjusted and have as an end effect merely caused a contribution to the systematic dilution of all campaign substance.

Hillary Clinton’s campaign fate was sealed through her pollsters. Instead of establishing a clear position and then unconditionally holding to it, pollsters alternately determined what, in the opinion of the voters, they wanted to hear. The resulting lack of clarity and consistency lead to her in many cases being perceived as an opportunist who would say anything and do whatever it took to achieve power.

The same is brought forward by many enterprises and brands. Instead of holding to a clear vision, they stagger from one strategy to the next or good-naturedly follow the current fashion of the ‘coolest’ advised trends. The root of this is often that the management have no clear understanding of the present distinguishing features of enterprises and brands respectively: this means that simply lacks a deep understanding of what differs an enterprise or an own brand from the competition, and what makes it better. However, this sort of understanding creates the self-awareness with which a position and strategy is determined and continually transformed. If at first the strengths are recognised and appropriately clear, strategic principles developed, the focus can lie with confidence on the essential commercial fields of competence - independent of what the competition says or does.

3) The Secret of the Obama Brand

In the views of the authors, Barack Obama’s award as ‘Marketer of the Year’ is well-justified. His brand has become the epitome of perfect marketing, and most commercial enterprises can learn a lot from Obama and his brand, as what is true for politics also applies to business. Obama’s immense success comes from having combined a number of ideas into an outstandingly co-ordinated marketing machine.

Lead with humility, calmness and an overview!

Obama’s new style of leadership has broken through barriers by being adaptive rather than visionary. He motivates his staff, and works on his plan together with them to optimise performance. For Obama, humility offers the foundations of strong leadership through encouraging a team culture. If executives are friendly and accessible, an enthusiastic working environment can be realised.

Discretion is also important. Obama’s presidential aura, in which he kept his cool and appeared unshakable, was one of his integral qualities. Executives can learn from his calmness and credibility while under attack, and should plan for emergencies before they happen, which also earns them the respect and admiration of their employees.

Obama’s victory speech showed his campaign overview by thanking personally his rival, team, family and voters.

Expand the playing field, and define new rules!

To be one step ahead of the competition, the rulebook must be expanded. Obama knew from the onset that he could not compete with Hillary Clinton for the big financiers, so he instead asked for small donations from his many supporters. In total, he raised $475 million.

A brilliant brand leader does not fight for a larger slice of the cake, but seeks to bake a bigger cake. Obama did this by mobilising millions of new voters. In addition, he encouraged versatile self-organisation, surrounding himself with volunteers and contributors. He reached out to new people and united them against the odds for his goal, whilst McCain’s organisation was left restricted and rigid.

Take a convincing position, and hold to it!

Obama adopted his campaign vision early on and held to it. Backed by his convincing personality, Obama’s appeal of ‘change’ was shown to be more than a campaign slogan. America was ripe for change after the previous administration, not just administrative, but also in the nature of politics. McCain and Clinton, who changed their promises depending on what they thought the public wanted to hear, appeared as opportunists in comparison. Likewise, enterprises should realise their own strengths and hold to them, rather than following current trends, to achieve success.

----

Okay, so you're only meant to do steps 1 and 3. But I find it much easier to summarise in English, and besides, the translation comes as good practice for the actual translation exam, not to mention expanding my vocabularly. Even if it does take AGES...

Have lots to post about, but not the time now.

The Exammy Nation

2009-03-24T18:18:37Z

Sooo, I finally have my timetable.

Monday 27th April - Finalisation of Dissertation. Possibly the most stressful day of my educational career. There's a Berlin revision class too, but I'm not sure I'll feel able to attend.
Tuesday 28th April - Hand in Dissertation in morning. Would spend afternoon celebrating and possibly drinking a lot but...
Wednesday 29th April - German Oral exam. Scary. But I know I'm not going to do amazingly, so I'll just try and be 'good' and not worry too much.
29/4 - 10/5: REVISE
Friday 8th May - German listening. This does not worry me too much.
Monday 11th May - Berlin. This is the big one, worth more than any of the other exams, and almost 4 hours long. Thank goodness I get do research beforehand, however...
Tuesday 12th May - Holocaust. Coming the day after Berlin is problematic. This one needs a lot of research as well, as does...
Wednesday 13th May - GDR Literature. At least this one I can blag if it comes down to it. In the afternoon, celebrate that the trio are over, but since Holly has exams on the 14th and 15th...
Friday 15th May - Celebrate the end of Exam Week and Holly's birthday. Drink a lot, probably.
Monday 18th May - Holly's birthday visit to Thorpe Park.
Thursday 21st May - Translation. Not really one I can revise for that much, and the same goes for...
Friday 22nd May - German Essays. But this is my last exam. Of my degree. This is the last nightmare before freedom. The evening will be crazy, and the weekend after will be burnout.

So at least I avoid a clash, even if my research exams are on three consecutive days. Had I done Romanticism instead of Holocaust, my 11th May would be Hell on Earth. I am really worried that all exams bar the Oral and Translation are at 9:30am. I am terrified I am going to oversleep, or at least wake up at 9:20 and have to rush to the exam with no breakfast or last-minute revision. I miss afternoon exams where you spend the morning in Cafe Jules revising over coffee...

Truth is, though, when it gets to the 29th, I will relax. This dissertation worries me more than any of the exams do, and is actually worth more than any of the exams as well.

----

We watched Death Mills in our last Holocaust seminar today. I spent most of the film looking at my notebook. One corpse is enough to upset me, let alone thousands. I really wanted to cry, but I was too shocked to do so.

Table Time

2009-03-24T12:19:26Z

Someone somewhere slipped up and we don't have our exam timetables yet when everyone seems to. With my fellow Berlin class students discussing when they finish, it is rather irritating not to know the same myself. Or if I have clashes. I will have 7 exams (Berlin, Grammar, Oral, Listening, GDR Lit, Holocaust, Translation), so the possibility is there.

...of course I have to get there first. I have slightly less time before my dissertation deadline than I thought. I'm seeing Dr Muhs about it tomorrow, and I am certain he's going to be extremely disappointed in me given I am so far behind with it than I am basically sacrificing my grade. I do have reasons, but I remain convinced they are not good enough. April will be a mad rush of work, I feel, especially if he wants me to do the essays I haven't done, which technically are necessary to qualify for the exam. I'd have to rush them, since they don't count, but it would mean less time for my dissertation. I just feel over and over again that I'm in such deep trouble I cannot get out, which makes actually doing the work seem even harder than it should be, despite wanting to do it and get it done...

Seeing someone at the Health Centre about it very soon, see if they can suggest anything. I am so embarassed with myself. I have let myself mess-up so so badly. If I have cost myself a First, then I fully deserve it.

And it's clear things are coming to a head. This is my last week of lectures ever, or at least as an undergraduate. My biggest course, the Berlin course, ended yesterday in a 3-hour coup-de-force after which we went to Crosslands and all had drinks. I was suspiciously sober after two Malibus and cokes and a glass of Pimms, since I hadn't eaten anything for most of the day. We had a fun time, the most memorable part being making fun of a guy dressed as an 19th-century soldier, and asking him questions including 'why?', 'do you have a girlfriend?' and 'do you fancy Richard Sharpe?'. He won, though, since not only did he answer honestly ('yacht club social', 'no' and 'no') but he then got most of us to sign up for the yacht club mailing list with an interest to join. Although he clearly does not fancy Sean Bean.

But more poignantly, this is the end of my degree, or at least the teaching phase. I still remember my first seminar in October 2005. A lifetime ago. No, that's rubbish. Several lifetimes ago. Now all is coming to an end. My dissertation, my exams, and then freedom somewhere around the middle of May. If I didn't feel that I'd screwed-up so badly, I'd be feeling curiously optimistic.

The weather is absolutely divine again, after yesterday's wind and rain. I continue to feel that I am squandering it, although I did go for a nice wander through the woods on Sunday afternoon. The bright sunlight and blossom outside is lovely...although it does remind me that I need to be inside, working. Working hard. I'm in trouble.

Into the Future...

2009-03-12T16:12:49Z

Last week on Wednesday, I attended another careers evening, this one geared towards creative people rather than Modern Language students. I was late for it because I was dragging shopping back from Tescos, where I had visited because I was already in Egham to meet a good friend of ours who had left uni last year and seems to be doing really well (yay alatier!). Actually, she gave me a belated birthday present of a necklace and earrings, both of which I wore to the Tea Party in London.

Actually, while I'm backtracking, I may as well mention that I had a lovely bath beforehand, with a 'vanilla fountain', which turned the water bright green and smelt of burnt toffee and vanilla, which was lovely. The night before had been the Creative Arts Society GM, and the Writers' Circle wanted to break away from the rest of the society. Even though I *set* up this incarnation of the Circle, I didn't vote either way, since I'm not here next year, and the society thus needs to find its own path. Instead, I gave a long, rather rambly speech that I hope was heartfelt, recalling the difficulties we had setting up the society in the first place, and my experiences with it and with how university societies work. I aimed for 'neutral' but goodness knows if I was. aleas_iacta thanked me for it anyhow...and the Circle ended up slitting, which was a bit of a foregone conclusion, but still...

SO YES the careers evening. I managed to miss the only one of the speakers I was interested in, a freelance journalist and writer, and thus had to sit through an hour of PR and marketing people, as well as a publisher who, more than anyone else I have ever heard, took complete control of her audience. But I found the people I wanted to afterwards, with wine and olives of course. I knew I wanted to talk about my own situation, so I waited until those with more general questions (generally not finalists) had finished, and then spoke. I ended up being the last student there, in fact, chatting with the remaining professionals about technology and writing and so forth. I don't think I was that drunk at the time, thankfully, and so I was able to have some useful conversations, also with a more general freelance writer. They generally agreed that my experience with school and uni journalism, my Circle involvement, and my victory in the DAAD competition was a major boon, and their advice was thus mainly 'keep on going!'. Which made me feel really positive about my future, whatever happens after Munich this summer...

I'm a writer! ...or certainly will be. As for poetry, I'll write about that in a seperate post...

So what does my future entail? Well, I did spend a few hours last week looking up Postgrad degrees, and I've found a few that quite interest me. I've not looked over them carefully yet, and I'm so bad at making decisions like this, but there are a few courses that stand out, provided I don't simply want to carry on with History. Some of the most attractive unis include Manchester, Edinburgh, Leeds and UCL, and the most interesting courses include Gender Studies (in a Modern Languages context), German History, Modern European History, Gender, Sexuality & Culture and European Culture. You can see what sort of areas interest me here. I considered Comparitive Literature, World Cinema, Translation Studies and Creative Writing too, but I think I'd feel more comfortable with the former list. Incidentally, the list isn't in any specific order...

However, I doubt I'll be doing this next year. I'd have to rush things now, it's a lot of money at the same time as my brother is beginning uni, and I fear being burnt out since I'm struggling a little with the workload at the moment. So next year is a big black hole as far as my future goes, which unsettles me, but I'm trying not to worry too much...

Hocus Pocus

2009-03-02T06:53:46Z

Uneasy sleep.
Up too early.
Work to do.
Wrote a poem instead.
Need coffee?
Have to have to have to work.
The dawn sky is beautiful.

I think I must be made of magic
I know that does not sound tragic
but if you stood here upon my stage
and ripped the words off the page
and locked them inside the lion's cage,
trapping away the written rage,
then I know that would you know
that I must be made of magic

Magic doesn't exist, some will say
It's all an act, a show, a play
but if you sat here upon my chair,
danced in denial desperate despair,
and painted your face with a nightmare,
and no one else seemed to care,
then I see that you would see,
that I must be made of magic

Abra kadabra, a wave of the wand
The audience surely must respond
and yet if you slipped inside my sphere,
and drew curtains before your fear,
and let escape one bitter tear,
and no one noticed you being here,
then I am sure that you'd be sure
that I must be made of magic

You sir, you sir, pick a card
Oh come on sir, it isn't hard
and yet if you hung here on my hook,
wrote down the world within a book,
and yet see with a fleeting look,
it's always the ace that he took
then I would hope that you would hope
that I must be made of magic

Look into my eyes and count to ten,
Not quite yet, I'll tell you when
and yet if you balanced upon my feet,
in the middle of a crowded street,
and burning with horrendous heat,
screamed and screamed and screamed so sweet,
but the hundred people that you meet,
don't hear you, you must be a cheat
and I would cry for you would cry
that I must be made of magic

Ladies and Gentlemen, that's a wrap
Then the curtain falls as people clap,
and yet if you were within my mind,
saw the adoring masses are not so kind,
witness how as if so designed,
they all choose to be so blind,
they'll all leave you behind,
on a empty stage, you become resigned
and I would fall as you would fall,
invisible within the curtain call,
and I would bawl but you'd stand tall
for who should care after all
and take their eyes off the ball
and see me standing there so small
that I must be made of magic?

A Latte in the Royal Borough

2009-02-28T16:26:50Z

Someone on Shadowbox just told me I look like Lisa Edelstein?
A few days ago someone there told me I looked like Regina Spektor...

Anyhow, yesterday was a pretty good day, thankfully, if not technically productive. I got up early(ish) to head into Windsor for an appointment at half past ten. We arrived in Windsor a little early, so I went into Boots to pick up a Meal Deal for breakfast, and ate it by the Thames, looking across the geese-speckled waters to Eton, and getting occasional glances by the anglers sitting there. It was peaceful. Anyhow, the appointment was a failure, and I was left with a few hours before Holly finished her shift and Anna and Amy arrived to go shopping and give us a lift back. I briefly considered hopping on the cute little shuttle to Slough, but in the end, I stayed in Windsor. I once hated the strange town, but yesterday, I found it endearing, with its strange buzz caused by the large castle and the royal family staying in it, and all the corresponding foreign tourists with their cameras. There were also a lot of young mothers with young children wandering around which was sweet.

After the appointment, I headed for a coffee shop to go and get some much-needed coffee. I opted for a caramel latte, which I have come to adore, despite once finding them too sweet for my tastes. I then found a small table at the back of the shop where I could sit in peace, watch everyone else, and write in my notebook. Coffee shops, especially the quieter, less-busy ones, loosen something inside me that lets me just write. Cafe Jules on campus comes close, but it's usually a little too busy to properly relax in the caffeine sanctuary. At the table next to me were two young mothers and their adorabubble little babies, who did a lot of smiling, staring and wriggling. I meanwhile, decided to use my notebook for the first time. I'd bought it in Dresden last year, because I fell in love with it, but my problem is that I tend to write things on the computer (in Notepad, Word doesn't feel right). When I actually write, my hand tends to get tired, and I write pretty slowly (one of the relatively few obvious signs of my dyspraxia). However, I really wanted to write in it, so yesterday, with the loveliness of the latte, I did so, writing something somewhere in between of a journal entry and poetry. I hope to eventually fill every page with such dreams and whispers. Possibly not all in my beloved pink pen, but we'll see.

I stayed in the coffee shop for some time, easily over an hour, as people came and went, and I half-watched them and briefly glimpsed at their lives. Aside from filling two pages of the notebook, I also wrote down a lot of lists, of things I had to do, poems I wanted to write, things to consider and so on. I felt productive, even if it wasn't really so. I wanted just to write myself into another world, let it all out into a torrent that would sweep the mugs of half-finished cappuccinos off their tables and into the streets outside, spinning as they went. I wasn't sure if I wanted to laugh, or to cry. Both silently. And I wrote. Now, if I'd had my laptop there (without Internet), I don't know how much I'd have written.

Eventually, I felt I'd been sitting there with an empty glass for too long, so I headed back into the bright sunshine, and wandered where to go next. The shops? I felt like getting things. However, I instead headed the other direction, getting my camera out of my purse as I went and taking photos. I ended up following the photos, even though with my broken camera, you can't see what you are photographing on the screen, so everything is a point-and-hope. Lanterns and windows, a pack of schoolboys in identical grey sweaters being marched past the castle by their teachers, a narrow alley near the castle full of Japanese tourists, the flowerpots along the castle wall, a stately front door to a terraced house with a window full of teddy bears, a gravestone with 'deeply lamented / his end was peace', the shadows of the trees on the side of the parish church. I took a photo of myself in front of the castle, and felt like a tourist myself, even though Windsor is familar enough now that I'm not really. A pair of tourists who were either Australian or German asked me if I wanted my photo taken near the start of the Long Walk (which is a ten-mile long straight avenue running from the castle to the hills), and I agreed. I saw gloves left in ghostly gestures impaled on a black fence. It was a fun trip, and reminded me of the photo tours I used to do back in Germany.

With that behind me, I visited Holly at her work to ask when her break was, but it turned out she didn't get one today, so a-shopping I did go. My first stop was Accessorize, which is a weakness of mine sadly, and I fell in love with a silver necklace/earrings combination, which I picked up along with some tights. No berets this time. On a similar theme, I picked up some eyeshadow from Boots. Nothing quite grabbed my fancy in HMV, so I went to Waterstones' and bought some books to encourage me to get back in the habit of reading them, even though that won't happen until after exams. The cashier was also irritating: he started a conversation with me about Egham and Windsor, asking a few questions, and when I was answering the second one, he suddenly interrupted with 'right thankyou byebye' and left me feeling tricked. I did consider going to the Ben & Jerries cafe (oh yes) to calm down, but Holly then finished, and we went to Lush, where I picked up another heavenly 'Floating Island' bath melt. By this point, it was time to meet Anna and Amy so we went up to Waitrose, where I had a sudden attack of 'need-to-get-vegetarian-foods', even though I did get some more chorizo (why don't they make vegetarian chorizo?). I got a tub of olives too, after that Wednesday! Lots of salads too, as well as more vanilla milk. I think my tastes have been changing again this year.

I didn't get much done yesterday evening aside from napping, chatting with friends from the Shadowbox (and with them poking me to get MSN again), and having a dinner of mixed bean salad, meatfree pork pie, and vanilla milk. Holly came round after spending the evening at Anna's, but by that point I was so tired that she left relatively soon.

But it was a good day, on the whole. I'm going to go and have those olives now, as well as possibly a soup. I wish it wasn't late afternoon already though.

Stairwell Blockade

2009-02-28T15:12:07Z

Thursday morning was rough. Not because of any hangover from the previous night, although I had ended up falling asleep on Holly's bed, and went back to my own in the middle of the night to try and attempt to get the work done I'd meant to do that evening. I didn't, and instead fell asleep on my own bed after a little while, waking up with only quarter of an hour until my German Oral lesson...and we were to have a mock exam, which I knew nothing about since I'd missed the last Oral lesson through my bronchitis.

But there were noises outside. Once I'd got some clothes on and scrambled a breakfast together out of fudge and smoothie, I went outside to find the corridor full of pipes and wires, with a generator humming, and a funny smell. I'd noticed the cold water seemed to be off, and I quickly realised there was a workman in the toilet, who gave me such a stare. As if I didn't belong in the flat I'm living in. Yet when I reached the end of the corridor, I found the stairwell blocked by more pipes, wires and a stepladder. I waited a little while, figuring someone would come and move things, but it was wasted time, no-one cared. I didn't want to try moving things myself, because I didn't want to send things collapsing on me, so I made use of my frame and squeezed through the gap, half-on-tiptoes to avoid catching on one of the pipes. Thank goodness there wasn't a fire, because that's the only way down from our floor.

When I finally got out, I rushed off to the exam. After the exam, I had to repeat the same procedure to get back into my corridor, where the workman gave me another stare. For the next few hours, there was the noise of the generator, hammering from the workman in the roof (whose movements had probably woken me up), bad whistling, and the sound of irritating music from either next door, or one of the workmen's radios. Not fun. I have no idea what they were doing either. But it could have been worse. After our flat, they moved onto another one, where the guy in the roof managed to mess around enough to cause the ceiling to collapse in one girl's room...

The Oral exam itself was messy. It was so hard...I understood most of the text being read aloud, and a majority of the questions, but I felt there were so many traps. For example, one question was 'So-and-so wants to be a tax consultant. True or false?' when the text said 'He wants to work as (something else), BUT then said 'once he passed the tax consultancy exam'. I am sure I tripped up a lot, and one question I just couldn't get my mind round. It was no fun at all. Plus, we were told 'one minute left' at the end of the exam, and as I hurried a final answer, was told I needed to put my pen down...it could only have been 20-30 seconds. Grrr.

What then followed was my sleeping patterns going haywire. I am pretty sure that from Thursday midday to Friday morning, I was sleeping for two hours, being awake for two hours, and so on. It left me feeling alternately exhausted and hyper during my awake phases, and my dreams were weird in my sleeping phases. It wasn't great, and I don't really know what caused it, but it meant that I ended up being online at 4:30 in the morning, and sleeping at 4:30 the previous afternoon. Needless to say, I didn't get any work done...again...but once I went into Windsor on Friday morning, things settled down to leave me merely feeling tired. But then I did end up sleeping almost the entire morning (2am-noon) last night...

The Write Approach

2009-02-25T14:47:49Z

I am finding it so so hard to do work still. I haven't been to see Rudolf despite everything because I haven't got his gobbet done, and turning up without that would make the whole 'hi, my dissertation is nowhere and my essay is still not done' thing much worse. As it is, I'm in deep water, and I need to just do things to get myself out. I've got an important project to do for the end of the month, the precis, which I previously felt quite optimistic about, until I recieved back my most recent mock, covered in comments that it was 'unclear', 'exaggerated', 'too detailed' or just 'incorrect'. It got a fairly decent mark, but the comments spoke far more to me. I'm not giving in to despair, though, because looking at it, the 'unclear' comments nearly all stem from by writing style, which is obviously too uncommon to be allowed in such things. I shall have to be careful to be dull in the final piece, clearly.

I meant to get work done last night: the gobbet, and the mock precis for today. I got neither done. To be fair, I spent most of the evening at Amanda's, talking to her about her family and about writing. She told me her novel idea, which lasted 25 minutes and blew me away. I want to read the unwritten book so much. I felt like my ideas were dim and pathetic in comparison. I need to work on my writing more, and understand what makes my writing my writing. We also had pancakes since it was pancake day, and those were gorgeous, although sadly not quite satisfying due to me having missed lunch and replaced breakfast with a large slab of chocolate and coffee. Eventually, I came back to my room, and Holly joined me, and we fell asleep.

I'd been planning a late night, so waking up close to 4am led me to be a little jumpy. I had some lovely lovely vanilla milk (ice cold from the fridge) to wake up a little, and then embarked on an ambitious cooking spree, at 4am, in my pyjamas and dressing gown. TVP burgers, lemongrass rice, fresh peppers, jalapenos, peas and sweetcorn in a BBQ and chilli seasoning. It took a while for sleepy me to cook it, and I almost cut myself using my new sharp knife on the pepper, but it was worth it, I think, since it was very tasty. I took photos. I ate it slowly, complimented with liquorice tea, but I didn't actually get any work done, despite feeling good for being up so early. I penned the first draft of an article I'd been planning on writing, but I'm not sure how good it is yet. And then, at about eight O'Clock, I fell back asleep and ended up being late to the translation class at 10am...

Amanda suggested the possibility of doing an MA in Gender Studies. I must confess, I hadn't given that much thought before, partially because of the way it seemed 'obvious'. I don't know...I am really getting into the gender part of East German History (I'd have to be, it's my dissertation). So I'll consider it. I used to be so sure of doing MA Modern History, but...I worry I'd miss the creative, the artistic. I love studying literature, and I got deeply involved in my Romanticism essay back in second year, moreso than I did on all the more political history. Doing a Literature MA is probably not a good idea given my relative inexperience (German Literature courses are significantly easier to get good marks on than English Literature). A German MA would give me the chance to do a mini-phD, but I worry I may need the structure to get me to actually work. I'll need to decide on something soon...next year approaches.

Oh, and after 7.5 weeks, I have taken out the studs and am wearing lovely new earrings. Even if they're not very noticable against my hair colour. I'm still getting used to the dangly feeling there, but I love it nonetheless!

Baths and Brothers

2009-02-23T04:14:24Z

...but it was a really nice bath. I spent 90 minutes in there, and would have spent longer if I wasn't both hungry and feeling guilty over not doing work. I'd felt like I really needed a bath since Saturday, but I didn't want to treat myself until I had got some work done, and the translation work took longer than I expected because the German was a little old-fashioned. I didn't actually do it that well in the end anyhow, but eventually, I just ran the bath. I'd been wearing my new dressing gown and pyjamas all day, which I suppose I ought to feel a little guilty about, but they were really comfortable, and made lying in bed and thinking about things really easy. The bath itself was a Lush 'Floating Island' bath melt, which meant the most heavenly bath, full of lovely oils, and smelling of vanilla, lemon and sandalwood, which not only smelled lovely but also helped clear my throat a little.

On that front, the tablets are definitely working. I'm still coughing, and expect to have at least one coughing fit during my presentation, but the coughs are shallower and don't hurt as much. Hopefully, they'll be gone entirely when I've finished the full five day course. I am tired of coughing so much.

---

My brother is hoping to go to York to study Economics. It's nice to see him trying for once rather than accepting the easiest option he can get. Although, in that surreal conversation when he phoned me from Golder's Green ("which is near you, right?", "not really"), he did make it clear he just wanted to get rich quick. He could probably do it, if what his economics teacher has said is true. It's still hard to see him as anything other than too lazy. I suggested I should go to York for my postgrad just to keep to an eye on him. Weirdly, he wants to spend a year in Oslo as part of his degree, for which I entirely blame the strong friendships (and more, I think), he's made with several small blonde Norwegian girls. He was near Lillehammer all week, skiing. Ah, maybe I'll have something to be proud of him for afterall.

---

Trying not to think about the future too much. Too uncertain. I have plenty to deal with in the present...

Study Stress

2009-02-23T03:53:35Z

This is difficult. For the past two weeks, I have been pretty much out of it as far as work goes. Bronchitis and flu left me bedridden for a while, and then came all kinds of emotional craziness which, like the bronchitis, is still lingering. But I don't have a choice anymore. Reading Week is over, and I have done nothing towards my workload.

It's been getting me extremely stressed. I honestly cannot see how I am going to manage the workload of this term. I could handle things if the dissertation wasn't there, looming over all and demanding that I work on it before it's too late. I could also handle the dissertation on its own. However, I keep getting torn between which things to do, and with continuing emotional crazies, I can't see myself being in top essay form regardless. I have so so much to do and I'm not at all sure I can do it. Everyone else has started writing their dissertations, or have pages of notes, but I am nowhere, or so it feels. It's hard to see anything other than doom in store.

But, for now, it's lesser projects that are being tricky. I did some translation work which needs to be in Wednesday to begin with, and it took me so much longer than I had expected, because I am out of practice. I eventually got round to doing the corrections to my German essay for this morning, but I haven't got much further than that, and I still have to write a gobbet for this afternoon's History seminar. That would be doable, as it lasts only an hour or so, but I am also giving a presentation on The Berlin Wall. And I'm terrified, because it's assessed, and because it's Rudolf, so simply remembering the Wikipedia page, merging it with my own knowledge, and blagging for ten minutes (which I can do quite well) isn't an option. I don't think I'll mess up, but it's a lot of preperation work, and it's so hard to concentrate, especially now it has got so late and I need to be up early to head to Windsor for that appointment.

I have got chocolate and my hair feels great after my bath earlier and I'm feeling otherwise quite relaxed and upbeat, but the worry over the workload, and how little I have done over Reading Week, won't go away. Ironic if things finally slip out of control in the final half of the final term. I don't want them to, and I'm pretty good at slipping out of tight situations, but I am really feeling the strain and just want to scream at my unread books. Doing what I am doing towards the end of your final year at uni is not a good idea in terms of getting things done, even though I actually view it as more important than my degree.

...I'm going to try writing something for myself, an article for something or other, rather than something academic. I'm not sure I can quite focus on doing the gobbet now, despite how late it has got. I'm just going to have to plan the important presentation in the tight gap of three hours between German and History. I have almost no time to stop, so I guess Writers' Circle this evening will be a little intense on me. Yes, I know I should get some sleep, but if I go now, I know I won't get both the gobbet and presentation done in time. Ah, maybe I'll just do that and do the gobbet in the late evening, since I have no chance of reading enough Stille Zeile Sechs for GDR Literature on Tuesday. Blagging it again. I feel like a bad student.

Get the assessed precis out of the way by the weekend, and make sure that blasted everlasting Catholic-Nazi essay is finally out of the blasted way by next Monday. Bury self in sources on Unvollendete Geschichte and get that essay done by the next weekend. Then back to the Holocaust for the next weekend. Somewhere in all this, get a plan for the dissertation. There's another History essay somewhere in that mess, but it can *wait* before I feel utterly crushed.

Realistically, everything is going to be rushed. After this term, I must focus on the dissertation, and then come all the exams. When July rolls around, I will be exhausted. I am ashamed of myself for letting things come to this, but I'm not going to pretend I can cope better than I can. I'll do my best, and hope that, somehow, it will be enough.

Cardigans, Chopsticks and Cocoa

2009-02-21T23:34:30Z

I have spent too much in these past few days. I find it a little hard to justify it all, but I'm trying not to think about it too hard. Most of it has been well worth it.

On Friday, I headed off to Windsor to meet Holly and the end of her first shift back at her job there. I meant to leave early, but a certain something was occupying my mind Thursday evening, and the morning went slowly. When I did go to the bus stop, I waited a little while for the inevitably-late 71 only to realise I didn't have enough money for a day ticket in my purse. Cue me heading to the cash machine on campus, buying a drink from the surprisingly busy college shop, and waiting another 25 minutes for the next inevitably-late 71. The actual bus journey into Windsor seemed to take no time at all in comparison.

Once there, and surrounded by people with young children for some reason, I started browsing shops. I had planned to do some dress shopping before meeting Holly, but I hadn't really left myself long enough, so after heading to a small place under Windsor station (down a staircase that smelt of raw sewage pleasantly enough), I quickly browsed one or two clothes stores. None of the dresses really caught my eye, and most things were expensive, but I did see a cardigan I quite liked. Before getting anything, though, I went to meet up with Holly, and we then went to Lush, where Holly seems to now know the staff personally, as we spent a good half hour chatting to them about various Lush products. I picked up a few more items from there because I like nice-smelling warm baths. After we left, I went back to the clothes stores, and after some more browsing, decided to get the cardigan and leave the dress to somewhere like Matalan because I a cheap person. We then picked up a few things in Waitrose and meandered down to Zizzi's for dinner, stopping at the fudge shop first because it has been too long since we got to enjoy their extremely-melt-in-the-mouthy sweet goo. And then Zizzi's. Which was really nice. I had a bowl of olives which I liked (which doesn't always happen), and the pasta main dish was gorgeous, even if the pasta itself seemed a little cheap. I was thoroughly full, and quite content, although perhaps the rose wine had something to do with that.

Outside, it was really cold, and I felt like just heading straight home and curling up on bed. However, I'd promised myself to go get some kitchen things from Slough since Laura's visit reminded me of what I was lacking, and I did have an all-day ticket, so we headed across the Thames to Slough, even though only the huge Tesco was open. I rejuvinated my kitchen supplies, and then felt in an odd mood considering I was so tired, so I picked up some makeup (3 for 2!), a dressing gown (which goes with my new pink La Senza pyjama set), hot chocolate (with mini marshmallows), and to spoil the pattern, some of the spicy Asian crisps they sell there. The total of it all came to more than I was expecting, and that combined with my fatigue and the claustrophobia the hypermarket was giving me left me in a bit of a collapsey state, clinging to a bottle of flavoured water to stay upright. It was a long bus journey back, and when I finally did get back, I managed to drop my purse with my debit card in outside my flat. Holly noticed on her way back down, thankfully, but that left me pretty shaken, and I didn't really get much done that evening. Weirdly, though, I got a call from my brother saying he was waiting at Golder's Green coach station, surrounded by Romanians waiting for a coach back to Bucharest, and that he'd just returned from a week in Norway.

But my plans for a warm bath, and then my new dressing gown with a mug of a hot chocolate were scuppered. I ended up in Holly's room, drinking hot chocolate with a bit of Bailey's, planning how to get her to Pimlico for her training session today.

I ended up giving her directions through Google Maps this morning, and it turned out it was only a short walk from Victoria. I had made plans to meet up with people in London today, but I ended up lying in bed thinking about a lot of things, cuddling my panda and enjoying the snugness of my dressing gown. As such, it was pretty late before I left my room. I took the chance to wear my new cardigan, which I thought looked pretty good, and thus left my coat here for the first time in a while. I had luck on my side, as the bus was waiting when I got to the bus stop. I ran to it, even though I really wasn't wearing running shoes, and got complimented on for my running by the friendly bus driver. I ended up running again at the station, and somehow the train lingered just long enough for me to get on. I ended up sitting next to a chav family, with very young mothers who boasted of their driving bans and getting drunk, and who got their daughters to play 'I spy': when the little girl said 's', the mother guessed 'ceiling'.

faepirate had managed to also be late for our appointment, and we quite hilariously texted each other to apologise at the same time, unaware the other one was also late, in their pyjamas. However, I managed to get into London a fair bit earlier, and so picked up a packet of crisps (Walkers: I regret it a little, it's so plain) and a bottle of cranberry juice before making my way slowly to London Bridge to wait for her. I was keeping an eye out for a girl surrounded by a wave of beautiful long golden hair (her hair is amazing), but she had a ponytail and thus managed to catch me out and find me unawares. We had no idea where to go, so we headed to Camden until, at Old Street, we realised that with the amount of people in London already, Camden would be pretty crowded. As such, we ended up in St Pancras station at the small coffee bar where I wait before catching my trains to Nottingham. We chatted about the past (it's been 6 years since we got to know each other!), her music (please please please have a listen to Helen Trevillion on iTunes), how we relate to other people, and hair. She also has amazing earrings, which reminded me it's about time now I can take out the sapphire studs and wear what I want in my ears! Yay!

We didn't get to talk for too long though due to the delay in meeting up, and me having arranged to meet Nat near Centre Point for lunch. So I bade her farewell, and hoped that she didn't think me too crazy! What was definitely crazy was the amount of people everywhere. Apparently, there was a big football match taking place, and the Underground was more crowded than I am used to. I tend to fit into small spaces, so it was okay, but made getting to Tottenham Court Road a little more stressful than it needed to be, not to mention delaying me a little. But I got there soon enough, and then we spent a good two and a half hours just chatting about things. I had a falafel meal that came with a lot of salad and was surprisingly filling not to mention delicious. I also saw someone who really very closely resembled Helen Marnie of Ladytron. It may have been her, I didn't ask. Nat (who also has really amazing hair) eventually had to go, as did I to meet up with Holly in aforementioned Pimlico. Nat advised me to take the 42 bus, but I saw one leaving, and being unused to London, figured I'd have to wait a while for the next one, so thus followed another dance through the Underground, including a delightful stroll down the lesser-used part of Tottenham Court Road station (with a spiral staircase of 99 steps).

I emerged overground again at Victoria, where I had a very surreal experience. I saw a steam train at one of the platforms, and like many others, stopped to watch it leave with full blast of the whistle and white steam rising to the scaffolded rafters above. As I did so, a giraffe poked me in the head. The woman watching the train next to me had an inflatable giraffe, and the neck had suddenly lost air, causing it to 'nudge' me. Bizarre. Also strange were the disproportionate lack of dryers to sinks in Victoria's toilets. I ended up walking the same route I'd directed Holly that morning, and waited outside the training place trying to avoid the smell of fish from the small market stall there. Holly soon appeared, and although we'd planned to go the nearby Dim T restaurant, I was still slightly full of falafel, so we went to the nearby tea bar, and over a mug of Moroccan Mint, we discussed our respective days. Eventually, when it had got dark outside, we went nextdoor to Dim T and were warned the service was slow. We had to wait a long time to get to order, but we accepted that, although we made a mistake when ordering and ended up with more Dim Sum than we had expected. Actually, I wish I'd only had the Bang Bang Chicken Salad and nothing else with it, and I also felt a little bad for having a meat dish after eating vegetarian all day (uh-oh), but the salad was great. I cannot use chopsticks to save my life, however, which left me feeling a little useless, even though I have a legitimate excuse in my dyspraxia.

My fortune cookie told me 'You'll get it all done', which shocked me a little, given how much I've been worrying over having not devoted enough time to my workload or dissertation and growing gradually convinced I was dooming myself. That aside, when we asked for the bill, it was a full 20 minutes before we actually got to pay it. That was excruciating, especially since I was getting badly claustrophobic with all the people that had entered the restuarant since. I was really glad to finally get out, hurry up to Victoria, and head home, via Clapham Junction and a long wait for a bus in Egham under the outlines and headlights of planes leaving Heathrow for distant lands. The bus driver on the way back was really polite and pleasant, leaving me to have quite a high opinion of 441 drivers, bless them.

And now I'm here. Needing to do some work, but basically wanting to do what I didn't do last night: hot chocolate, warm Lush bath, dressing gown, warm comfortable snugness. I'd say 'a good book' would complete the picture, but I am badly out of touch with reading, for which I blame the corrosive lure of the Internet. I hope to regain my relationship with books which I lost around the age of 15/16. But I can't now. If anything, I need to be reading textbooks relating to my dissertation. But maybe that will go with the gown and the cocoa.

Dreams of a Bavarian Summer

2009-02-19T15:26:52Z

In further desperate attempts to deny the reality of my crushing workload, I have been thinking forward to this Summer. I'm about to e-mail the guy from jetzt.de who offered to find me a place to live, because knowing where I'll be staying will help make the whole experience more tangible. It's going to pretty much be the month of August and the first two weeks or so of September, unless I get an extension which is unlikely but possible. High Summer in Bavaria, what can I say? I plan lots of having fun in the English Garden and day trips to Austria, Liechtenstein, and possibly further afield if there's time.

It does override two events, however. Laura's wedding is too important for me to miss comfortably, so I'll do my best to fly back for that. Ayacon, on the other hand, won't be happening. To be honest, as much fun as I've had at cons these past few years, it's been meeting friends that has made it worth it, and I don't feel much connection to the whole scene anymore. The only animes I'm still watching are One Piece and NANA. So, Zalia, Dark Squall and people, I don't think I'll be seeing you this Summer. Unless you come to Munich. You are all invited to Munich, for that matter, and we can sit and drink beer together. Well, I won't, I don't like beer, but it's what Munich is perhaps most famous for.

Things probably won't turn out like that. Living in Eutin was very different to how I had assumed. But I'm entering the big wide real world this time round for real. On which note, I really seriously need to be doing major research into Masters degrees now before I have to leave it a year and find some other way to sustain me into Summer 2010. And a lot depends on how I finish this degree I'm on now. But it's easy to gaze over the papers needing doing to the distant horizon. Oi vey. Poke me if I'm still here on Friday with nothing done.

Instrumental Interlude

2009-02-17T23:50:01Z

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a verdict. The doctor got to me to do a few deep breaths, which caused me to cough right on cue, and I have bronchitis. Which means amy_k called it. Not that there was any kind of competition, but it does explain why this cough hasn't been going anywhere despite flu coming and going on top of it. I have a prescription for some antibiotics, but I didn't go and get it today because I also had an actual lesson (in Reading Week, due to postponements from the snow days) and afterwards I was hungry and it's dark and cold outside.

On an utterly different note, one of the Shadowboxers (who I think is on LJ) mentioned possibly sending me an ukelele for my birthday. This excites me and fills me with thankfulness. I don't believe I'll be particularly good at playing it, but I do want to play an instrument again. I've never quite dropped the dream of getting a keyboard once this chaotic year is over and learning to play it, even if I'll never be any good. Or perhaps a metallophone, those giant glockenspiels that dong instead of ding. I mention the latter because I frequently chose it as my instrument when we had Music lessons waay back and I loved its sound and I was told one day I played it perfectly with correct rhythm and it made my week.

I wish I had learnt to play an instrument. I have only myself to blame, really, since my parents were pretty keen, but I kept refusing for some reason I can't understand. I really don't get myself back then in the slightest. Later on, I adopted the position that because I was terrible at doing most hand-based activities (hello dyspraxia), I would never be any good anyway so there wasn't a point. But I really love music and especially after going to the open mic night and seeing these cool guitar guys and girls, I really would like to be able to play things myself, even if I'd never be good enough to make anything out of it. So I'd start with a ukelele, of all things, and see if I can do anything with that.

For the meantime, though, my creativity is still poem-based. Rather than actual uni-work based. I am so out of practice. You should not do what I'm doing in final year if you can help it, trust me, even with its all its beautiful highs.

And to end with, since I've not posted enough of them these past few days, a poem! But this one is designed to be read out loud, since people at Writers' Circle keep telling me my poems thrive on their telling. I call this poem 'Crash':

It is empty and silent
I turn on my computer
Remembering the pain
Practicing my lines
Loading my personal details

I try to put on a happy face
For my friends to face no fear
For me to prolong and pretend
And so that I seem really here

Dadancing in time with the music
Everything's fine, everything fines
and I hope that they arare too fooled
To read between between the lines

Instant messassassges leave no time
In an instance everything is changed
and if I I I listen to my mp3s
I might forgot that I'm deranananged

Too many applications running
I can I can feel the oververload
and who was who was who was watching
which way the datastream flowed?

I am OK I am OK I am OK I am KO I am KO I am KO I am

Room tototo chat but nononot for me
The keys the keys the keys are unlocking
The painainainainainainain of my memory
I think I'm O O O O O O O O Overclocking

Theytheytheythey must have knoknoknoknown what it'd do to me
I can only take take so much
I'd not be be be be be be be like this
If I could only only only only only only touch

I can't keep up down left right up with the programme
I've lost my work, I did I did I didn't save
I might be falling falling falling falling
I don't have to all all all always be be be be brave

I love I love I love I loved I love I see
I must report abort abort report the fault
I want I want I need I need I need I must
must must must must tell this to halt

No, trust me, I'm fine really
No, me trust, fine I'm really
Me, fine real, I'm no trusty
Trust no I fine real me
No trust no fine no real me
No trust, you can't find the real me
No trust, you can't can't can't can't
No no no no no no no real me

I think I think I think I think I feel I feel I feel I feel I feel I feel I feel I feel I feel
I know I know I know, I...no no no no no no no no no no noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo...

Shutdown

Not Rhyming

2009-02-17T12:57:03Z

Sorry about that last night. I'm feeling better now, but I'd still like to type it out at some point, probably between my doctor's appointment and the weird GDR class that's taking place on this theoretically empty week. I suppose it's nice having things to go to, since it should stop me sitting and thinking and driving myself crazy by grabbing buried feelings, current feelings, and dancing a twisted waltz without the orchestra of reason getting much airtime.

Although my Midlands poem got ignored. It wasn't good enough anyway, I should have spent more time on it. And made it rhyme. There was a time I believed a poem wasn't a poem unless it rhymed, and I spent hours on hours on some homeworks ensuring that they did. I loved doing poetry at school and I was a little upset when we stopped writing them and just analysed them instead. I find it darkly amusing my crazy poem is actually a lot better. When read aloud. So much of my poetry works best read aloud. I wonder why that is? I'd like to think it's partly in the telling, and yet...

Although I do feel again that my poetry isn't that great.

Laura came round and made me stew! Which is lovelytasty. It was a good evening, Laura is a sweetheart, and it was very useful to just let feelings out (at a different person's lap this time). I worked out the two, possibly three, things that together were leaving me feeling so all-over-the-place. I am afraid of sounding like a bit of a broken record when I talk about some of them though. Generally, I'm very succeptable to paranoid fears. That's the main thing. They never seem paranoid when I worry about them though.

I'll be less cryptic later. Right now, I am in my new pyjamas. Or the bottoms at least, since it's too cold to wear the top. They are wonderful. Not quite wonderful enough for me to wear them onto campus, mind.

I don't know if this entry is going anywhere. I probably should, though.

Mercy for Mercia, or, Writing Silly Poems While I'm Crazy

2009-02-16T16:31:26Z

My head has been in a really strange place today (not literally). I found myself thinking myself a little insignificant and confused, so I went for a walk, had something to eat and went to Cafe Jules to try and sort things out, so I'm not being a crazy to tragic_peculiar when she comes over tonight. I have worked some things out. Like getting out a bit really helps. And that I still have irrational things in my head that won't go away that easily.

But I'll post about that in more detail either tonight or tomorrow depending on how things are. I don't think there's any cause for concern, and I'll be more together soon enough. I need to be. I weep for my degree (actually, I am very close to doing just that).

SO here is something different. I just saw on the BBC News site that they're holding a North-South poetry event at King's Cross this evening. Fair enough, I thought, that sounds like a great idea. I read the two poem excerpts they posted and instantly felt that I was a silly poet who shouldn't waste her time when she clearly isn't good enough. Thankfully, something else distracted me: the fact that in this battle, as usual, the middle was ignored. Now, as a daughter of Nottingham, I am a Midlander myself, although in some regards, especially recently (my accent apparently, too), I've become rather Southern. And to be honest, I feel that Nottingham itself is divided into North and South making the Midland definition a little culturally lost.

But I figured I'd write something to the BBC story in defense anyway. Yes, it's a poem, No, it's not very good, and I did it so quickly you don't even have to pretend it is this time. So here goes...

While North with laughing sighs does point
condem the forlorn temples of the Southern home
and insists that all roads run
away from London

And while South mocks with tempestuous mirth
the monochrome monotony of the percieved wasteland
and claims that all is second-best
in Manchester

As civil war rages on,
hoping for the chopping off of Flamborough and Beachy Heads
and a traffic jam of division
clogs up Watford Gap
who spares a thought for us?

Midlands, can you define that word?
Lands in the middle
Neither there nor here
The South to the North
The North to the South
An afterthought to the poet
writing about Blackpool and Brighton
pier pressure

Midlands, but does that not signify
the centre of all, the focus, the heart
Not a nowhere but the everywhere
The Centre to the North
The Centre to the South
The punctuation of the poem
dreaming about Lichfield and Lincoln
Cathederal

Spare a thought for Stafford, Stamford, Stratford and Sleaford
For the men of Mansfield and the women of Wolverhampton
For where every day is Derby day, and for where Dudley does its duty
And where live the lavishes of Ludlow and the luminescence of Leicester
Grant mercy to Mercia
and forget us not
lest you forget yourselves

...maybe being in messy headspace is better, after all.

The Evening's Evidence

2009-02-16T04:29:59Z

Today. More normal, I think. Hardly any crying sessions, anyhow. Although I still spent way too much time in bed. Following the idea I should actually be doing things, I headed over to Holly's room to throw away the bananas she had left for me and which I hadn't eaten due to not being there because of my illness which still hasn't quite gone. Then I went to an open mic night at the Monkey's Forehead pub nearby, which I'd never been into before because it never really seemed like my sort of place.

I'd gone because aleas_iacta was going to play a short set, and I told her I wanted to cheer her on, but I also wanted to actually hear her sing and play guitar. However, her party were delayed due to trains. Delayed by an hour, leaving me spending the first 20 minutes sitting at a table on my own with a rum and coke trying not to look too desperately lonely, especially given I'd moreorless been indoors away from other people since Tuesday. There was a table full of really blokey blokes, who were shouting loudly and jeering at each other and being quite rowdy, which was a problem because they'd surrounded the entrance to the ladies, but when I finished my drink and they went out en masse for a smoke, I took my chance. I had my lip balm with me at least which helped with the cracked lip, but while I was in there, the blokes came back and I could hear them just outside the door. When I did leave, I tried hurrying past as quickly as I could, but I'm sure one of them shouted something about condoms(!) as I passed by. Perhaps they thought I was buying them or whatever, I don't know, but I quickly found a single-stool table and perched there until people arrived.

The music was generally good that night. The hosts played bluegrass, which was pleasant but extremely background, and of the musicians that weren't from our group, some were great and one wasn't...poor guy kept forgetting lyrics, stopping playing, and leaning over his friend's shoulder to see what they were before playing on. aleas_iacta sang and played really beautifully, despite her nerves and silly belief she wasn't any good, and I bought her a drink afterwards. The boyfriend of puddingdragon was there, and we caught up quite a bit since we hadn't seen each other for a long time, and I was pleasantly surprised to hear that puddingdragon has spoken to him about me quite a bit. So he knew all about me, which was a little strange and a little relieving. He's also a Dresden Dolls fan and Ladytron fan amongst many others, but why is it those two bands seem to have such overlapping fandoms (well, I've met five people including myself, so that's an exaggeration). He invited me over sometime, which is great because I want to catch up, and I was also getting a little upset that I didn't really have any close friends in the area aside from tragic_peculiar, aleas_iacta, and Viv, who's a little too far to walk to.

Also, based on the evening's evidence, my belief about sexuality I posted on last night was correct.

On one final note, some of my coughing fits now lead to me retching. Generally only when I come inside from the cold. But in any case, what on earth is causing that? Possibly not eating enough isn't helping, but I'm working on that as I get better (or pretend I'm getting better). I need more drink too. I bought some blackcurrant juice and drank that, but the pear juice's lid is impossible to get off and it hurt my hands trying and it looks delicious. Grrrr.

Carousel

2009-02-15T01:49:12Z

Bleh. I spent most of the day in bed. I wasn't even online that much today. Lemsip and water, repeated with large helpings of tissues to dam the eternally running nose. I didn't even get to have that bath last night because I eventually felt I'd just ruin it with my runny nose. When I slept, I woke up early, and then felt too hot because the sun was shining through my window. So I opened it, and then gradually felt too cold. I slept until midday, and spent a little time up before sleeping from 2 to 6. I can't believe I slept that long. I am so glad I have my beloved Panda plushy to cuddle up with and snuggle, it makes being in bed more tolarable.

Missing Holly a lot. More than I remember before. I kept imagining her coming in and bending down to kiss me, or snuggling up to her whilst my head was pounding. I cried at her over the phone, and was generally really emotional. Not surprising, my emotions have been all over the place, and I've felt like a madwoman pacing the kitchen, leaning my head against the window and flexing my fingers. I'm just about coming to terms with not getting much work done while I'm ill, but if I spend most of tomorrow reading and watching films, that should count as dissertation work without me needing to leave bed. Hopefully.

I haven't been spending as much time on Shadowbox either. Lack of online time and emotional chaos mean that I finally lost it with the aggravating poster there who hardly anyone can stand, and started ignoring them after telling them they had an empty life.

I can't wait until I'm better again. Then I can go see Coraline with Holly, do the dress shopping I promised myself for my birthday, get substantial work done, and be far less emotional, hopefully. This is kinda draining at the moment. I also have to watch what I eat. I cooked myself some Indian snacks two nights back and felt off for a while afterwards because of the grease. And they're not even that greasy. Actually, I've not been eating much at all lately, which is bad of me I know. It's hard to gather the energy and effort.

You must be getting tired of 'I'm ill' posts by now. Sorry. I am too. But now I shall take that bath, and I hope that despite my nose and my cough and my savage double sneezes (you know the sort...), it helps me relax. It should also make me less smelly after so long in bed, and with a bit of luck, it will help my skin too. So I'm quite looking forward to it. Don't let me down, Lush.