Posting because there's simply nothing much else to do. I don't think I've been up this early, voluntarily (well, depends on the definition, rowing sort of comes into the category of compulsion), since the start of term.

This is because I have not slept.

Not due to work, no, didn't get anything done last night, as hard as I tried. Well, I did, in my own special sense of the work productive, what feels productive to me. Knitting often does. (Thanks to last night, I am almost out of wool). Work just failed, at about two thirty, I think. And then I lay in bed and though, "Gosh, wouldn't it be nice to go to sleep now. Or now. Or even... now?" For hours. Just couldn't sleep. No idea why.

So now I'm sitting on the computer, learning how to play Greensleeves properly on guitar so it sounds pretty, and waiting until they start serving breakfast. They didn't serve dinner in Hall yesterday so I am hungry.

Oh, look. My alarm's just gone off. Fabulous.

I cannot wait for Friday.


ETA: urgh. It has been one of those days. But one essay is almost done, and I'm getting there. One day more...

( A warning... )

And this:

www.saltpublishing.com/horizon/issues/02/text/evans-bush_katy.htm

( Not quite the Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock )

It's very strange to read back through all my lj posts from ages ago. I'd delete them but the archivist in me says no. I'm trying not to even edit, but it's difficult because I was so... argh. Me but not me.

What's funny is looking at the workload I used to complain about - all the big things seem so little now. Me of a year ago would be horrified at the amount of work I'm doing (or am supposed to be doing). But that's what it's always like, I suppose.

Not entirely sure what this post is for. It's not an end-of-term one, because I'm not there yet. It feels like Christmas, though, I went to Christmas Carols today and even though it was really really cold, it was lovely - recognising that, at time of writing, it is officially December, singing in the candlelight even if I can't sing, with people I like spending time with, in a beautiful place...

This is so different to what I thought it would be. In a good way, though. I've had some miserable days but then who doesn't? And overall... coming here, a good thing. A very very good thing.

(not that life is currently depressing, it's one of the lines from a band I'm listening to a lot of at the moment, Stars)

At some point I will make a post about the Decemberists concert, because it was entirely worth it, and I want to remember it. And I'll write about going home for the weekend, and how I didn't break down and decide I can't cope with being an adult anymore because, actually, I can. This came as something of a surprise. I like it here.

I will write about how wearing a new dress makes me feel like a proper person, how I wear it around my room just because I can, even if I'm wearing a dressing gown over the top of it. How this lead to poetry, not proper poetry, but the first I've really written since I got here. Maybe I'll even say how trying to write limericks thanks to conversations on facebook has made me want to be able to rhyme properly, seriously. (I think I'm just not trying hard enough)

I'll tell the stories of the Christmas formal, and inadvisable drunken walking all the way to Magdalen to see a friend, because I wanted to; about strange not-days spent sitting around and the now sitting on a computer thinking about actually writing the essay that's due tomorrow, and the tutorial I have to be alert for.

(In fact, that's a story I might tell now.)

Because I've been to the Tolkien Society poetry evening, where we sat in a lovely room on comfy sofas and shared poetry, all kinds, my favourite (bet you can't guess who) and some Wendy Cope, people read Tennyson, Auden, Larkin, Coleridge... The best part was possibly the singing of a poem I should have heard of but haven't called the Highwayman, by someone who can really sing, and it was... just magical. Absolutely beautiful. Of course I failed to actually tell him how amazing it was properly, but I tried. And it was hours and hours of words, good words. These things make me very happy.

That, and something that's bubbling away... won't put it down properly, because I know I overanalyse everything, and it could be nothing... but something might happen. Maybe. We'll see.

Dear Livejournal,

This week is going to be awful. I know this, because I haven't done any work this weekend, and I haven't even started the reading for the work due in on Wednesday. But I don't mind, because Saturday night was wonderful.

I was thinking about not going to the Tolkien Society bonfire, even though I'd already paid for it; but I decided I'd give it a go, I could always leave if I ended up being totally inept, and at the very least I'd get baked potatoes. The rowing pub crawl was the same night - I figured I could always show up later. In theory people at that point wouldn't notice, and I'd be able to catch up pretty quickly.

It was amazing. We met on Magdalen Bridge and walked down the Iffley Road, quite a long way and I was worrying a bit about getting home; we then took a side-street and started walking through some meadows in relatively deep darkness, trying to avoid the huge puddles. I was with a girl I met at the first meeting as well as two I hadn't seen before, somone who knows Kholoud, another guy and then someone I'd talked to a few times, who seems lovely, Conrad. Well into the meadow, we saw lights. They'd put tealights in jamjars all the way down to mark the path to the bonfire, lights all around the edge of the clearing, too. We were overlooking the river.

So I sat and stared at the fire for a bit, and chatted to some people, and got less awkward, and joined in attempts to try and cut up the huge chunks of wood that needed to go on the fire - much hilarity ensued in the process, although we did manage to cut one in half with a saw about three inches long - and threw kerosene on the barbeque that wasn't lighting, and generally did silly things and were amused and I did talk to people, and I'm slowly learning their names.

Eventually, about quarter to nine, I realised I really did have to get back to the rowing lot, Kholoud had said she wanted me to say hi to some people, so I left, but not before getting a sparkler from a guy called Owen after he found out I'd miss the fireworks. And then he walked me back across the meadow up to the main road, and said that if I wanted to come back he'd tell me if there were still people around.

It took about half an hour to get up to the pub, walking, and to be honest it wasn't that great. There were some nice people from college there who I chatted to, but the two pints of cider I had were expensive and there wasn't anywhere to sit down and I kept thinking, there's somewhere else I'd rather be. About 11, a bunch of us decided we were going back to college. When we got there... I realised I wanted to go back. Grabbed my bike lights and keys, and jumped off, just a little bit drunk, to cycle like mad back down to the bonfire. And it was wonderful. Sat next to a guy called Nick who had been hilarious throughout the whole evening, and who shares my love of xkcd and Tom Lehrer (I mean it, these are my people), and who huggled me when I was getting cold. He can also sing and roll his Rs like awesome. There were filks and Lehrer songs and crazy mafia-like games which I need to get a lot better at, and we tried to burn a table. We burnt a large portion of a bed. Only wrapped up around two in the morning, and it was one of the best nights I've had in Oxford. I was going to go back to a small gathering afterwards, but decided not to, although I would really have liked to spent more time with them - I had rowing the next day, though, and I had a bike so I had the ability to get home, so I decided to. Besides, they all knew each other already and I didn't want to intrude, nice as they've been to me...

Then slept in this morning until twelve and had to immediately jump up for rowing, which was surprisingly good. And I had a Tesco Feast with Eve this afternoon! Complete with tea, Value Milk, 41p Custard Creams, Salt and Vinegar Maize Snacks, Value Ham Slices, Cheesy Twists and much much more. And we re-organised my room. My nice clothes all smell of smoke now, though, after the bonfire. Oh, and Nick apparently saw me in Tesco! It would have been lovely to say hello but I looked horrible after rowing, my hair is disgusting and my face is aargh, and rowing gear is something you never want anyone nice to see you in anyway. But he talked to me on facebook, so communication!yay!

I was going to work tonight but I think I might go to bed early and get up the same (shock horror), and seriously graft tomorrow. We'll see how it goes. Goodnight, lj!

Everything seems to be slotting into place. Maybe it's just the last few days that have felt right, and I've been having a good time, and when I start working again properly it won't be like this, but for now I feel suddenly and strangely very happy.

The start of this week was a bit mad, I've had so much work to do that I just haven't done. But the Interregnum essay due on Wednesday I got finished - and I know the argument was a bit crap and I didn't really give any examples at all, but fuck it, I'll do it better next time, I'll have a real plan next time - and then went to the LGBT Stitch & Bitch, in a cafe in the Covered Market. I got some seriously huge wooden needles for a pound, and some wool for two quid, and sat there knitting for a few hours, chatting to the people and sometimes being quiet. The guy who appears to be the Knitting King also liked the Decemberists, so we had Decemberists lovage for the first time ever, and it was just nice. Oh, and there was free quiche.

Then I got Leela a yellow rose and some fake moustaches and showed up for her birthday, with Kate and Mem, and it was so... nice. Like Everything Changed the way it was supposed to, but we're still here and we're new and old at the same time. The amazingness of the food (and cheese WIN) at Brown's did not hinder this. Also someone else was paying.

Went back to college, PudSoc turned out to be on later so I went and finished my Tacitus essay, the first one I've been actually proud of. I didn't entirely finish it but it was so much better planned than any have been so far, I think I liked my argument and had really thought it through. Briefly visited PudSoc to steal brownies and carrot cupcakes, which were amazing; and then after I'd been back and practically finished my essay, sat in the kitchen until two talking to Kayti about love and life generally, proper DMC.

Thursday was a mad day. Finished essay in morning, went to the Gibbon lecture, had a historiography class which I'd been dreading and which went really well, even if I am the Token Female in a class of four men, which is not really so bad but I think I may be the Feminine Perspective. We had a running session with rowing, and for the first time in my life, I led the column, with Kayti. That was quite something.

You know when you have two things to do in one evening, and you have to pick, and whenever you're at one you feel like you're missing the other? I did both on Thursday night. I went to the Jericho Tavern to see Simon Armitage read, with Mem and Leela but saw tons of people from Tower Poetry; but after the warm-up band (at a poetry reading, I know) played one song and I'd had a half of cider, jumped back on my bike and went to the open mic night at college, which was amazing. Saw my friends play, then jumped back just in time to hear about an hour of Simon Armitage reading and being amusing and amazing; and then got back to college just in time to hear Library Boy playing, and then playing again in a proper band, which was serious awesome. Then went and had chocolate fondue and a girl's night in. And it was perfect.

Today's been lovely, saw Dad's lecture and stole lots of food and saw SW and did my laundry and had a good tutorial and went to Tolkien society and had dinner with Dad and four people from college and they all liked each other and now I'm in my room about to knit for a while to Tom Lehrer and right at this very second absolutely everything is perfect.

I said coffee was sort of ok in last post. except at the same time it's utterly  horrible.   Not entirely sure what to do, except maybe drink more and experiment? I'd stick to tea but it just doesn't have the hyper-making effect, and for the first time I didn't even get close to falling asleep in the library. So I might have to start drinking it properly... Help! Need recommendations on what you actually do with coffee? (Emma, I'm looking at your mother's expertise here)

Also, Library Boy is still being lovely to me, we had a very nice conversation at about half midnight tonight. He's playing in (and running) the open mic night tomorrow! Excitement! I just... I don't expect third-years to talk to me. In fact, I don't really expect freshers to really want to talk to me, I'm not very interesting. So it just makes me very happy that he doesn't mind me interupting his Serious Third-Year Historical Studies to talk about the fact that I suspect one of my tutors has laser vision and is going to explode me out of existence.

I've developed a strange sort of habit of not doing any work til midnight, due to so much hanging around in corridors. I knew, I knew this week would be difficult if I didn't work on the weekend, I told myself so, and yet...

The thing is, it feels like I've done tons. Craploads of reading, certainly, and I've been seriously notching up the library hours. But actual thinking constructively, that's my problem. For some wonderfully ironic reason, it's almost too easy to link everything to fandom, or in-jokes, or a random story someone told me once. But historical links? Causes, themes? Just don't occur to me. And maybe it's something I have to practise, and I really have to want, in order for it to work. But right now it's so damn difficult.

I've been to the pub a fair amount in the last few days; Monday night, went with Sarah and Hannah (who was already quite pissed), and only had a half of cider but had a really lovely time. It was the Eagle and Child, which I poked my head into once and judged terrifying, but sitting down in the corner was so lovely, it was cosy and comfy and there were the best bar snacks EVER. And then I went home and worked, and said hi to Library Boy (who is a very sweet third-year historian who works in the same part of the library as me, and he really doesn't have to say hi to me and he always does, and therefore makes me very happy every time he does even though I never have anything interesting to say), and stayed up far too late.

Lecture yesterday was Machiavelli, which has a really good speaker who clearly knows and loves his stuff, and I'm starting to like the period even though I've only really read the Prince and know basically nothing about the Renaissance. I can work on that! Would like to know more about art history, so I'll try to for when we start doing that. Dissertation? Possibly? Too early to tell.

And then went out to Drinks at Magdalen, with Mem, and had the world's most stupid jelly shots which were not downable; but we probably arrived a bit too early and I felt guilty for being there, considering I should have been working, so didn't stay long enough, and was kind of appalling company....

So now, after late night working, 6am rowing and 9am lecture (WHAT IS THIS SHIT) I'm attempting to work, and failing miserably (obviously). But I will. I will go and write my essay now. I have resorted to coffee, which I have never drunk before in my life and which... I hate to say it, but it's not as hideous as it smells. levielan 's mum recommended Nescafe Gold, so that's what it is, with a ton of milk and sugar in, and... not bad. So maybe further coffee experimentation is needed? Recommendations?

Nicked from kohl_rimmed_eye, because the clock is lying and it isn't really one in the morning.

( Five things... )

Oh, Merlin. Merlin Merlin Merlin. Merliny Merlinda Merly. Merlin.

( This entry might be a bit Merlin-centric )

Good morning, livejournal. How are you today?

So my last post was just before going off to university. And now I am here. And that is a slightly strange concept.

I've been meaning to keep a diary of important things that have been happening, for future!Me to come back and reminisce about (I just had to look up how to spell the word reminisce, that's embarassing. It still looks wrong, too), and of course because it's me I haven't. But I might start trying to post on lj more often as solution to this? Would like to be far more active in online community, just because there are so many nice people around who seem awesome and who I would very much like to say hello to, but I am a coward. So I might just use this as a vague diary/writing practise instead.

But updates! Updates on the world!

Well, the smallest world I've ever lived in. Oxford is very strange in that way, beacuse literally everyone walking down the street is a student, and you will almost certainly see them again, and if you don't know who they are then a friend will, or a friend of a friend. And I keep seeing people from school, because I went to fucking st paul's which we cannot ever escape from ever aaaaaargh which can be nice if it's the people who were actually nice, but is otherwise just weird.

I'm living on a really long corridor, the building is originally called Main Building, and everyone kind of wanders around and it's a bit impossible to get work done, because there are always people around and you get sucked into their rooms, or into the kitchen, and then we end up sitting in the kitchen for hours on end talking about Disney films and wizards and how awesome it would be if college worked with everyone being like their subjects, like, the engineers building cars and stuff, and the PPE guys would rule over us all, and the historians would write it all down, and the biologists would farm and that's where we'd get all our food, and you can see how we don't really get any sleep, can't you?

Food is also becoming a problem. kohl_rimmed_eye (who seems really lovely and I would like to talk to but she writes really well and therefore I am terrified and in awe) summed it up perfectly: "I have nothing to eat that doesn't involve cookery". And this means that I kind of just don't bother to eat, which is all sorts of Not Good, and I have never done this before in my life. I eat, like, all the time. Especially when I'm sitting around working. And now I'm not, except sometimes when there's communal bread or someone has food they're offering, but otherwise... I run out of food and I don't get any more. So am going to have to deal with this at some point.

Sleep is likewise a problem, in that not getting any ever and can't sleep when get chance, but I can cope without sleep. Sort of. Ish.

I'm going to stop now, because this is getting overlong, but I'll just say I'm listening to the best miserable-weather song ever, which is The Engine Driver by the Decemberists, and it is wonderful and should be listened to by everyone in this weather. It is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HG1FlsgLQQY

Right. I have to row later. I am going to make noodles. I may be some time.

This apparently actually exists. And is wonderful. (this lj has become just a place to post stuff that amuses me, hasn't it? Probly because, with the exception of levielan, most people I know would not appreciate lolcats. it is very sad)

http://www.lolcatbible.com/index.php?title=Main_Page

( Oh hai. In teh beginnin Ceiling Cat maded teh skiez An da Urfs, but he did not eated dem.  )

After discussions with my dad, and reading him Snow (which is the most beautiful poem, it is wonderful and lovely and read it), we may have concluded something. It is not that my dad does not like poetry. It is possibly that my dad does not like Louis MacNeice.

This is of course sacrilege and I would be incredibly offended by this except... disliking a single poet seems much more positive than just  blanket not liking any poetry. And while he is utterly WRONG and MacNeice is kind of amazing, this means that we have made progress. We have also established that he likes rhyme and restrictive rhythm, which is a bit of a surprise as I thought he'd find them kind of stilted. Apparently not.

So Progress has been made. And we have met two poets who dad seems to like. Robert Frost especially I think thinking is an extremely good route to pursue...


( The Accepted Poems )

In other words: wwwwwwwwwwwiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnn!!!

Just thought this was rather beautiful:

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=113223398&sc=fb&cc=fp

A poem. Which is probably now about as finished as it's going to get, for a while anyway. The ending I have six or seven different versions of, but this is the best for now. I havebethofalltrades to thank for this getting written at all. I hope you like it.

( Nemo Perit )

Just returned from a week in Ireland, where I had the most amazing time. Four days in Belfast, then four days in Dublin, with levielan and Skeet - sad that more people couldn't come with us, but actually it was perfect.

And part of it was getting to see everything we did - momuments and sights, tours around both cities, the Giant's Causeway (which I've wanted to see since I was very small), the Post Office in Dublin - but part of it wasn't.

I'm going to leave home in eleven days. I've already left school, but this will be really leaving, I'm going to have a new home, or what I hope is going to be a home. Thank god, most of my friends are coming with me, which is something, but some of them aren't. And even with the ones who are coming, they're not going to be around all the time. This is something new. I am leaving the last seven years behind. In a way, this is what they were about; getting to this point.

And going to Ireland, in a bizarre way, was like that sort of moving on, it was the turning point. Being with old friends but coming to terms with the fact that something very new and very scary is about to happen. In some ways, rejecting it - we're not going to leave each other behind.

So we were grown up, and paid for ourselves (sort of), and got on buses and coaches and planes, from city to city and country to country, we did brilliant things and saw beautiful things. And then we spent one day essentially in bed, in one room, getting up for about three hours altogether. We talked about politics and medicine and Lord Voldemort. And then we worked ourselves into hysterics over the fact that the predictive text on my phone wanted to spell Aggamemnon as Chicmenoo. (which actually is kind of hilarious)

I don't know  what I'm trying to say... I suppose it was everything I'd hoped for and more, and exactly what I needed, or need, really. I am terrified about university. But at exactly the same time, I am so, so excited.

(madness, sleep deprivation, going to write insane early-morning poetry now, goodnight)

is a book that I have rediscovered from clearing out my bookshelf. And it is full of good quotes, so I am going to keep them somewhere safe. ie, here.

( Nothing is foolproof to a sufficiently talented fool )

So university is drawing ever nearer, and I am trying to ignore the fact that I have piles of reading to do. I may give up on the idea of writing a small review in my book about each one, because there is not time.

However, exciting things have been happening. This past week especially has been brilliant - I have done something friend-ish every day since last saturday - and this saturday was especially brilliant, something I've been looking forward to for a long time: the Amanda Palmer concert. And it was more than I could have hoped for.

( More... )

I... feel like livejournalling. For no apparent reason. Except for cake, which is always a reason.

I'm about to go to bed ridiculously early, as I'm horribly jet-lagged, but I'm also full of cake, so this needs pointing out to the world in general. Josh made a cake for his friend tonight which went wrong, he left one egg out and the whole thing collapsed in the middle. The wonderful thing about cakes is, they can look hideous and still taste like, well, cake. So I ate pretty much a quarter of the dead cake.

Second (and final) cake-related item: this.

cakewrecks.blogspot.com/2009/08/here-comes-briaaaauugghhh.html

Goodnight!