Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

It has certainly been a long time since I last updated this. And I can’t really use university as an excuse for that, seeing as I haven’t blogged since May and I’ve only been back at uni for three weeks. And I can’t even say that I had something else going on because, let’s face it, I really didn’t. In retrospect, I have no clue what I did throughout my summer.

So yes. Back at uni now, and struggling my way through various essays and presentations. I had a presentation on Tuesday regarding Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Blithedale Romance. It’s a good book, but doing a presentation on it was thoroughly daunting. My hands were trembling throughout the whole thing. They looked like hummingbirds. But I was told it went okay, so I’m not going to think about it now.

Not that I have entirely escaped from the throes of Hawthorne Hell. I have a 1500 word essay to write by monday on Blithedale and, to be honest, I’m not entirely sure I can. I know the book well and I have lots of sources to quote from, but no clue where to start.

And uni has taken me away from my most loved things in the world- anime, manga, and music. I recently started reading a new manga series (Otomen, if you’re curious) but I haven’t been able to watch any anime for months. Partly it’s because of streaming sites cracking down on showing anime, so it’s rare I can find what I’m looking for anyway. And music, well! I haven’t picked up my oboe for months. And I’m really starting to miss it.

So now, I spend my free time (snortgigglesnort) writing crappy poems and trying to make my work go away.Oh, but I have developed a new-found love of Meat Loaf’s ‘Bat out of Hell’ album. Mmm.


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Right now, as I look out through the patio doors, I see the sun hitting the leaves on the trees. They shine with a fluorescence brighter than any man-made light. This is the light of the natural. As the tree sways in the wind the leaves twirl and cast ever-changing shadows across the surfaces of their neighbours, making them ripple like a pool of green. Beyond is the sky, faint brushes of blue sweeping through gaps in the dense cloud cover. No rocket could take off in this weather; the clouds sink, brushing the roofs of the houses with their grey and white tendrils. They are teasing. They won’t rain, but the subtle threat is there.

Such a cloud skids across the sun, blotting out its pale evening light. That light took eight minutes to get here across vast amounts of empty space, only to be blotted out by a greedy cloud. The cloud’s far side is warm, while we ants below shiver.

But the wind is on our side. It throws the cloud aside so the light pours once more onto the dancing leaves. Fallen blossom petals lift skywards and fly away across the fence, beyond the fence, butterflies of petals flying free. i want to dance out there, in the wind, in the petals, and feel that sun on my skin, and touch the iridescent leaves.

But I have an exam to revise for.

Well, shit.

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Metaphors, metaphors. The Bell Jar is a cacophony of metaphors.

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Once again, Vin has reminded me that I have a blog, and that I should at some point update it. So, here is my latest update.

I’ve become addicted to the anime/manga series La Corda d’Oro. I’ve seen the whole of the first series and have up to volume 9 of the manga. Not only that, but I’ve also succeeded in getting two of my anime-illiterate friends hooked on La Corda too. That, as they say, is an achievement.

La Corda fuelled my desire to play music again. I’ve missed playing the oboe ever since I was forced to give it up a few years ago. More recently the desire to play became so bad it hurt- it was actually, physically hurting me that I couldn’t play music. Every time I listened to music or saw an instrument my heart hurt. It’s difficult to explain. It was like something had been carved out of my soul, and no matter what I tried to fill it with- reading, writing, archery, badminton- it was never enough.

So I bought an oboe.

Oh, my parents threw a fit when they found out. My sister timed the argument I had with my mother- 23 minutes, apparantly, before we found ourselves recycling things we’d said (yelled!) ten minutes before and decided to stop arguing. They’re still annoyed but they’re being nice to me now.

I won’t be back at the level I was for a long time, and I’ll probably make lots of mistakes with tempo and style without a teacher to correct me, but the joy of being able to play again is unbelievable. Only those who have loved music and lost it could understand the complexity of emotion involved.

My oboe’s name is Kazuki. Oh, it’s definitely a guy. The oboe I hired from school all those years ago seemed to be more feminine. She played sweetly, and was nice about it. Kazuki’s as stubborn as I am. I guess that makes us a good match. But he’s going to be hard to deal with, I can tell.Still, I look forward to the challenge. Bring it on, Kaz!

So that covers La Corda and the oboe… oh! the thorns. While walking my cat, he climbed a tree and it took me half an hour to get him out. I got scratched badly by the thorns. Stupid cat *grumbles*

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Okay, so I’m writing an essay about the use of landscape in the works of James Fenimore Cooper and Washington Irving (fabulous, isn’t it? It’s due tomorrow, 3500 words, and I’ve done a wonderful 825 so far. Joy!)

I wrote this sentence about the snow: The snow, while a literal product of the winter than had just passed, is also a symbolic ‘covering up’ of the destruction of nature caused by man.

A green squiggly line appeared underneath it. I clicked it, and word told me my grammar was wrong, and that this was a much better alternative:

Does also man cause a symbolic ‘covering up’ of the destruction to nature the snow, while a literal product of the winter that had just passed?

erm…. WHAT?! That doesn’t even make sense! See, this is why I get so many typos in my work: because I ignore my spell/grammar checker because it tells me to do silly things like that!

Well. On with the hunt, as they say. This essay is horrific.



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Dive in the Sky

I wrote a poem about birds today. It’s kind of crap but you can read it if you want.

The bones of birds are hollow
So, birds are mostly air.
Perhaps that’s why they love the sky
And find completeness there.

I also wrote this one about my sore throat. I threw in a violin for no apparent reason.

The highest note inside my throat

Sandpapers my vocal chords

And roughs my voice for days and days

After I attempt to sing it.


The violin finds it easy to sing

He calls the note

That grazed my throat

And cackles merrily at my jealousy.


I’m bored now, though. I’ll do a proper update soon.

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Aches and sprains

It’s fun to mess with doctors.

I took a tumble, as it were, on Sunday. By took a tumble I mean I fell over with such panache that I had to go to hospital on Monday, cradling my left wrist and whimpering softly. Had it checked over by a very nice (and, dare I add, very nice) male triage nurse, who then shipped me over to x-ray, where a mean woman twisted and turned my mangled fingers every which way so she could get a decent shot of my hand (to be fair, she was actually a lovely woman and apologised profusely everytime I yelped when she moved said mangled fingers).

And then I saw the doctor. This is just a part of the conversation I had with him:

Doc: So, how did you fall?
Me: Heavily.
Doc: Er…
Me: I was standing on wooden decking….
Doc: Uh-huh *nods encouragingly*
Me: and I slipped when I was pulled over….
Doc: Right….
Me: By a cat.

Long pause here. I spent this time looking at his thumbnails. They were the weirdest thumbnails I’ve ever seen. Straight down the middle of each nail was a line of yellow… I can only describe it as crust. And he was poking my poor left hand with these nails. Eww. Anyway, back to this:

Doc: I’m sorry, did you say a cat?
Me: Yeah. Well, more a kitten, actually.

I swear I have never seen a human being’s eyebrows shoot so far skyward before. It was awesome.

The general verdict was no break, but very bad sprain, keep it rested, elevated, cooled, wrapped up in bandages while at uni, and under all circumstances DO NOT USE IT UNTIL THE WEEKEND AT THE VERY LEAST. That includes lifting and holding stuff, so I am freed from household chores until the weekend.

Needless to say, this is being typed with one hand. For which I apologise, especially if there are any tyops.

What role did Benny play in your accident, I hear you ask? To which my reply is NEVER WALK A CAT ON WOODEN DECKING WHEN IT’S BEEN RAINING. Otherwise, he might just decide to jump into a tree, taking you by surprise and causing you to slip on the wet decking, throwing your left hand out to save yourself and effectively mangling your fingers.

Credit me this, though: I didn’t let go of his harness leash.

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