Burning the candle at both ends
This was a phrase that was mentioned to me in the context of the accompanying/composition fiasco earlier this week, but a spate of pop-self-deconstruction has revealed that it is the basic ethic by which I do everything. I always have a perfect get-out or a perfect excuse until you reach the end of the sentence, whereupon I realise that my justifications are circular.
Watching a friend in a similar situation to the one I found myself in a few months ago has dragged old misgivings and concerns and irresolutions to the surface. I don't exactly know what I was thinking, or doing, or even whether I'd do it again (surely not?), but I have come to the conclusion that I was utterly insane, and utterly horrible. Bridges remain a charred mess, but I will try to get it less wrong in the future. That is all I can confidently say I take from the situation.
It's raining. I'm listening to XO. I've become obsessed with Elliott again - maybe since getting New Moon and reading the eulogies (one of which was downright painful), maybe since spotting the self-titled LP rather abrasively next to The Strokes. I've started cutting my sandwiches into four triangles. Things are simultaneously better than they have been in a while and wholly rock-bottom. Most of my coursework is in, and my exams aren't going to be that gruelling by comparison (except LTM); yet, I feel that something massive is bearing over me.
First-year lectures are over, and have been so for a week. I've been filling in module evaluations all over the place; it's disconcerting to be appraising something from the end that I never thought I'd reach. It's not been a long year - I only started lectures in September - but it's been monumental. Not necessarily good or bad, although there has been a lot of both, but just definingly significant overall.
I've lost the ability to express myself, it seems.
Watching a friend in a similar situation to the one I found myself in a few months ago has dragged old misgivings and concerns and irresolutions to the surface. I don't exactly know what I was thinking, or doing, or even whether I'd do it again (surely not?), but I have come to the conclusion that I was utterly insane, and utterly horrible. Bridges remain a charred mess, but I will try to get it less wrong in the future. That is all I can confidently say I take from the situation.
It's raining. I'm listening to XO. I've become obsessed with Elliott again - maybe since getting New Moon and reading the eulogies (one of which was downright painful), maybe since spotting the self-titled LP rather abrasively next to The Strokes. I've started cutting my sandwiches into four triangles. Things are simultaneously better than they have been in a while and wholly rock-bottom. Most of my coursework is in, and my exams aren't going to be that gruelling by comparison (except LTM); yet, I feel that something massive is bearing over me.
First-year lectures are over, and have been so for a week. I've been filling in module evaluations all over the place; it's disconcerting to be appraising something from the end that I never thought I'd reach. It's not been a long year - I only started lectures in September - but it's been monumental. Not necessarily good or bad, although there has been a lot of both, but just definingly significant overall.
I've lost the ability to express myself, it seems.