2018 / week 4
Jan. 29th, 2018 04:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
glitterforestsWow, so not a week goes by and I already can't stick to a schedule I set for myself. Well, let's pretend it's still Sunday somewhere. This past week was a blur full of pre-, inter-, and post-exam stress, even though finals took only 2 days. This was probably the last time I had to take the so-called Practical English exam (unless one day I finally decide to get the telc Certificate), so, of course, I convinced myself that I failed some components, or at least did very bad at them. Which, by the way, on a rational level I know is not true. I already got my (very good) results for the Speaking part, and later today I should get the results for the rest (Use of English, Writing, Reading, and Listening – all very fun as you can imagine). Conclusion: I am my own worst enemy and I have to start supporting my own damn self emotionally and mentally.
Because I am a responsible adult who makes great decisions, last Sunday I stayed up till 4:30 am to read Words in Deep Blue by Cath Crowley in one sitting. I planned to read one, maybe two chapters, but I loved it so much that I just couldn't stop reading. And here's the thing: I'm not sure if I loved this book as much, had I read it in any other stage of my life. I came across it exactly when I needed it and it moved me in ways I haven't been moved by a literary work in a while (meaning: I cried every other chapter, but it's fine, because I love it when books make me cry like that). It's a story about grief, family, love. It's a love letter to literature and what it can mean to different people. To me, it's also about stories we tell about ourselves and each other. I want to reread it soon in a less frantic pace, I feel this novel deserves it.
I have this tendency to connect certain seasons to particular music. It used to be more general, like the entirety of 2013 will always remind me of bubblegum pop. Lately it's become more specific. And so if you ask me about the spring of 2 years ago, I say Footnotes for the Spring by Eliza Rickman. Spring last year? Johnny Cash, in general. Summer? After Laughter by Paramore. Last autumn? When the Pawn... by Fiona Apple (also, Fiona Apple, in general). And now, it seems the winter of 2018 is Nirvana. For now, particularly Unplugged in New York, but hey, we still have a month and a half to go. I haven't really listened to Nirvana before (I mean, I was only a few weeks old when Kurt Cobain died) and it's just like with books and films: sometimes you get to listen to something exactly when you need it and so it speaks to you more clearly than at any other moment of your life.
I wrote 2786 words, 5 out of 7 days. As mentioned, I lost 2 days to exams. I wrote them, I went back home and the stress and anxiety was so severe that I couldn't do anything but lie in bed, sleep, and numb my brain with TV. But I went right back on track the next day so I still count it as a win. I've focused back on my NA (New Adult) novel and I'm rather excited because all the main drama has yet to happen. Also, it's nice to romanticise the college experience when my actual college experience rather resembles the Scream by Edvard Munch.
About that, not much progress on the thesis front. Most of the time I find it difficult to get myself to read the theory books because the simplest statements are worded in such an unnecessarily complex way that they're almost incomprehensible. I don't have any other choice, though, so I'm soldering on. I hope that once I'm done with the first chapter it'll get a bit easier because the subject matter of the next chapters is much more interesting. Plus, the next chapters are more about analysis and not about the highlights from the history of the genre.
I hope this week finds you all doing well. I'm sending good thoughts your way.
Because I am a responsible adult who makes great decisions, last Sunday I stayed up till 4:30 am to read Words in Deep Blue by Cath Crowley in one sitting. I planned to read one, maybe two chapters, but I loved it so much that I just couldn't stop reading. And here's the thing: I'm not sure if I loved this book as much, had I read it in any other stage of my life. I came across it exactly when I needed it and it moved me in ways I haven't been moved by a literary work in a while (meaning: I cried every other chapter, but it's fine, because I love it when books make me cry like that). It's a story about grief, family, love. It's a love letter to literature and what it can mean to different people. To me, it's also about stories we tell about ourselves and each other. I want to reread it soon in a less frantic pace, I feel this novel deserves it.
I have this tendency to connect certain seasons to particular music. It used to be more general, like the entirety of 2013 will always remind me of bubblegum pop. Lately it's become more specific. And so if you ask me about the spring of 2 years ago, I say Footnotes for the Spring by Eliza Rickman. Spring last year? Johnny Cash, in general. Summer? After Laughter by Paramore. Last autumn? When the Pawn... by Fiona Apple (also, Fiona Apple, in general). And now, it seems the winter of 2018 is Nirvana. For now, particularly Unplugged in New York, but hey, we still have a month and a half to go. I haven't really listened to Nirvana before (I mean, I was only a few weeks old when Kurt Cobain died) and it's just like with books and films: sometimes you get to listen to something exactly when you need it and so it speaks to you more clearly than at any other moment of your life.
I wrote 2786 words, 5 out of 7 days. As mentioned, I lost 2 days to exams. I wrote them, I went back home and the stress and anxiety was so severe that I couldn't do anything but lie in bed, sleep, and numb my brain with TV. But I went right back on track the next day so I still count it as a win. I've focused back on my NA (New Adult) novel and I'm rather excited because all the main drama has yet to happen. Also, it's nice to romanticise the college experience when my actual college experience rather resembles the Scream by Edvard Munch.
About that, not much progress on the thesis front. Most of the time I find it difficult to get myself to read the theory books because the simplest statements are worded in such an unnecessarily complex way that they're almost incomprehensible. I don't have any other choice, though, so I'm soldering on. I hope that once I'm done with the first chapter it'll get a bit easier because the subject matter of the next chapters is much more interesting. Plus, the next chapters are more about analysis and not about the highlights from the history of the genre.
I hope this week finds you all doing well. I'm sending good thoughts your way.
