(no subject)
I've decided it would be a good idea to pick up with my journal again, after nearly a year (having abandoned it in some sort of semi-despairing state early last August). I don't know why the thought has struck me to start writing again at this particular moment, except that I'm reading I Capture the Castle just now, and maybe deep down I imagine there might be a book in all of this someday -- and seeing as I'm having such a great deal of trouble getting on with any of the books I actually set out to write, any help I can give myself is probably a plus. And maybe just scrawling things here will jump-start my system and help me get on with all that other stuff, anyway. Or maybe it'll just make me feel better -- whatever.
There would be positively no point trying to catch up with what's gone on over the past year -- it's such a lot of stuff, and I can't remember it all in order, and it's all largely irrelevant by now anyway. Time will keep moving forward. Suffice it to say that I imagine some things may be confusing for lack of a reference point -- but you'll all just have to deal with that, won't you? In any case, I may as well jump right in.
I returned one week ago from my big, epic, two-month-long journey to the US. I knew it was time to come back to London, but I honestly didn't want to -- I honestly think I might very much like to leave before my big fancy visa expires and simply move home to Woods Hole (stay up at the house, which Mom now officially owns and to which she has already made loads of improvements) until I can save up enough money to rent out my own place, and then do that. I've already got lots of ideas about things I could do, for love and money. Yes, I think I might like that very much.
Meanwhile, I arrived back to discover willie nelson visibly depressed and refusing all manner of nourishment. It's a good thing I got back when I did! I bought her some tunafish for a treat and got her to eat that, and now, a week later, she finally seems to be taking to her own food again (although she requires a bit of warden-like supervision) and getting her personality back. I honestly don't know what I'd do without her.
I went up to Oxford on Saturday for Hilary Kalmbach's wedding -- it was all perfectly done of course, but I couldn't help noticing how totally formal and ultimately passionless the whole affair was. Of course an Oxford wedding is an Oxford wedding -- and Eliot's death was, of course, hanging a bit heavy over the whole proceedings -- and finally, Hilary always was the most formal of the three to begin with. Still, though, even for her, it was a remarkably flat affair. Brilliant to see Whitney and Andy, in any case -- Whit may hate her job in the military, but at least she's headed back to her cozy little house in Pearl Harbor; whereas Andy has a date with Afghanistan as soon as he finishes his captain's course in Arizona. That scares me a hell of a lot -- don't know many better guys than Andy, and that family just can't take any more loss right now.
My health continues iffy (post-flu-like thing that afflicted me during a large part of my month in Woods Hole) -- and my right ear was killing me, so instead of staying the night in Oxford I left the reception relatively early (it was boring anyway) and got on the all-night coach back to London. Didn't want to leave willie alone longer than absolutely necessary anyway.
Have been out in Camden a few times since getting back and have already met some really lovely new people (while reconnecting with a few of the lovely old people) -- really I ought to motivate myself to get out more, but it's easy making excuses to stay in when one hasn't any money. I've taken on an extra project for Jess -- in addition to my regular teaching and admin duties, that is: I'm writing the critical reading and writing sections of an original mock-SAT for use on our website. That ought to be about 20 hours of work -- and if I can work quickly enough, 20 hours combined with the bit I've still got in the bank ought at least to make up my September rent... but we're already encountering problems, as one of the important documents Jess prepared as a guide seems to have disappeared entirely from Google docs.
All in the meantime, I'm feeling generally low. I just hate the idea that I'm living for lack of anything better to do. I get jealous sometimes when I hear people talk about their studies -- or like last night, when I went to see yet another Daniel Goldman Edinburgh preview AD'd by Clare Betney. Daniel and I are so strangely similar, in terms of our interests and abilities anyway, and I often ask myself why I can't be more like him (with his 5 zillion projects and initiatives). Then I remember that Daniel's grandparents have always been kind enough to pay for absolutely everything. Clare, too, can be rather a daunting figure at times -- and then I remember that she runs herself ragged at three admin jobs she hates (in addition to working and touring with Daniel), and that she doesn't even have a place of her own at the moment -- she's crashing on a couch at Daniel's flat (the one his grandparents have paid for). In short, I can't really compare myself to Daniel, and in the end I'm not really all that jealous of Clare. All of which puts things in perspective, but which I really find even more depressing, in the sense that it indicates a world without hope of aspiration for a person like me.
You know how you meet some people -- Hilary Kalmbach is a perfect example -- and just feel bowled-over by how many unique and interesting things they have going on? And then there are others who, when asked what they do, say something like, 'I'm in finance', and you just lose interest then and there? What really, really upsets me is that I'm so uninterested in myself these days.
There would be positively no point trying to catch up with what's gone on over the past year -- it's such a lot of stuff, and I can't remember it all in order, and it's all largely irrelevant by now anyway. Time will keep moving forward. Suffice it to say that I imagine some things may be confusing for lack of a reference point -- but you'll all just have to deal with that, won't you? In any case, I may as well jump right in.
I returned one week ago from my big, epic, two-month-long journey to the US. I knew it was time to come back to London, but I honestly didn't want to -- I honestly think I might very much like to leave before my big fancy visa expires and simply move home to Woods Hole (stay up at the house, which Mom now officially owns and to which she has already made loads of improvements) until I can save up enough money to rent out my own place, and then do that. I've already got lots of ideas about things I could do, for love and money. Yes, I think I might like that very much.
Meanwhile, I arrived back to discover willie nelson visibly depressed and refusing all manner of nourishment. It's a good thing I got back when I did! I bought her some tunafish for a treat and got her to eat that, and now, a week later, she finally seems to be taking to her own food again (although she requires a bit of warden-like supervision) and getting her personality back. I honestly don't know what I'd do without her.
I went up to Oxford on Saturday for Hilary Kalmbach's wedding -- it was all perfectly done of course, but I couldn't help noticing how totally formal and ultimately passionless the whole affair was. Of course an Oxford wedding is an Oxford wedding -- and Eliot's death was, of course, hanging a bit heavy over the whole proceedings -- and finally, Hilary always was the most formal of the three to begin with. Still, though, even for her, it was a remarkably flat affair. Brilliant to see Whitney and Andy, in any case -- Whit may hate her job in the military, but at least she's headed back to her cozy little house in Pearl Harbor; whereas Andy has a date with Afghanistan as soon as he finishes his captain's course in Arizona. That scares me a hell of a lot -- don't know many better guys than Andy, and that family just can't take any more loss right now.
My health continues iffy (post-flu-like thing that afflicted me during a large part of my month in Woods Hole) -- and my right ear was killing me, so instead of staying the night in Oxford I left the reception relatively early (it was boring anyway) and got on the all-night coach back to London. Didn't want to leave willie alone longer than absolutely necessary anyway.
Have been out in Camden a few times since getting back and have already met some really lovely new people (while reconnecting with a few of the lovely old people) -- really I ought to motivate myself to get out more, but it's easy making excuses to stay in when one hasn't any money. I've taken on an extra project for Jess -- in addition to my regular teaching and admin duties, that is: I'm writing the critical reading and writing sections of an original mock-SAT for use on our website. That ought to be about 20 hours of work -- and if I can work quickly enough, 20 hours combined with the bit I've still got in the bank ought at least to make up my September rent... but we're already encountering problems, as one of the important documents Jess prepared as a guide seems to have disappeared entirely from Google docs.
All in the meantime, I'm feeling generally low. I just hate the idea that I'm living for lack of anything better to do. I get jealous sometimes when I hear people talk about their studies -- or like last night, when I went to see yet another Daniel Goldman Edinburgh preview AD'd by Clare Betney. Daniel and I are so strangely similar, in terms of our interests and abilities anyway, and I often ask myself why I can't be more like him (with his 5 zillion projects and initiatives). Then I remember that Daniel's grandparents have always been kind enough to pay for absolutely everything. Clare, too, can be rather a daunting figure at times -- and then I remember that she runs herself ragged at three admin jobs she hates (in addition to working and touring with Daniel), and that she doesn't even have a place of her own at the moment -- she's crashing on a couch at Daniel's flat (the one his grandparents have paid for). In short, I can't really compare myself to Daniel, and in the end I'm not really all that jealous of Clare. All of which puts things in perspective, but which I really find even more depressing, in the sense that it indicates a world without hope of aspiration for a person like me.
You know how you meet some people -- Hilary Kalmbach is a perfect example -- and just feel bowled-over by how many unique and interesting things they have going on? And then there are others who, when asked what they do, say something like, 'I'm in finance', and you just lose interest then and there? What really, really upsets me is that I'm so uninterested in myself these days.