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spiderpigFragments, mainly. From the past two days.
- This is so gross! I did a quick calculation and even if I get a CAP of 4.6 next semester, I'll only just managed to qualify for second uppers. WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO ME. I feel like a monster. A sort of elite kind of monster who only can work away slavishly. That's what the travesty of semester 2 did to me. I can't even save myself with a projected 4.6 CAP. This is madness
, this is NUS! - Of all my texts in the 20th Century lit course this semester, I enjoyed Pirandello and Pinter the most - and most curiously, both start with the letter P. There is something raw and alive about their plays (Six Characters and The Birthday Party respectively) which make me almost fall head over heels in love with studying literature again. In the end I always return to the things I'm most familiar with.
- I plan to read a book a day - or a book every two days - so hopefully by the end of the month long holiday, I'd have refreshed and refilled my currently vapid mind. I need to tackle some of the texts needed for next semester's classse. I'm planning to buy Robinson Crusoe, Tristam Shandy, a collection of Marlowe's plays, a compilation of Donne's poetry, The Turn of the Screw, Edgar Allan Poe and some Freud?
- Probably will start on some Shakespeare and Milton, since I have the texts already. Need to re-read Frankenstein because it's most probably going to be on Psychoanalysis.
- Well, the above is mainly my failsafe in order to get a one-up on my reading for next semester.
- What's going wrong what's going wrong what's going wrong what's going wrong what's going wrong wrong wrong
- Last paper tomorrow. I am 'studying'. 'Studying' and not studying because I'm not sure if what I'm doing constitutes as studying at all. I am just devouring but not digesting. Inner digestive system is all screwed up. I need to go for detox. Read some children's books and just chill.
- I want to throw away all the disgusting essays that I've written this semester. Chuck them in an incinerator and watch them burn - first orange, then black, then white until all become a sooty black that disappears when I blow on them. I might eat the ashes, because that's the sort of Chinese voodoo that suits the whole morbid situation but I will get indigestion. But burn. I want to watch them flicker away in the heat, and then never return again.
- badkarmabadkarmabadkarmabadkarma
- 1pm tomorrow. Last chance to salvage my semester. It's not a matter of want or need right now, it's must. With a heaving, bold emphasis, I must rectify this problem of mine. It is a problem, and hence solvable. Dissovlable. Solvent. If it wasn't a problem, but something inherent in me - it is not, I tell myself always that it is not - then no amount of turpentine or hydrochloric acid can burn away the stain. But since it is a problem, a man-made imperfection that only arose out of incompetence and insecurity, it is rectifable. It can be saved; I can be saved. I just need to look for the life buoy and swim to shore. Hide in the pockets of salty sea waves and flow in with the tide. The trick is to go with the ebb and flow, I guessed as much. Fighting against a swirling current is guarentee of an almost certain death. I have been flirting with destruction for the past year. 2008. Not a very prosperous year, but not un-prosperous either. Take things in dualities. I need bad with good. But there is an uneven-ness that haunts this balance. Tipping over, like a teapot. Teapots don't tip do they, or do teapots tip? Teapots don't have any hands to reach into their nonexistent wallets so how do they tip? Can they tip if they aren't supposed to tip? Do not tip, there is a service tax added to your bill. 15% 15%.
- God. I'm rambling.
- Breathe. Breathe.
- Back to Eliot.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-04 09:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-04 09:04 am (UTC)