As some of you may know, I’ve recently embarked again on the path to higher education. I’m in an Access Course for Arts, Humanities and Social Sciences at City College Norwich. Should I do well enough in this course, I should be able to get into University next year and start my degree. I’d like most of all to get into the English Literature and Creative Writing program at the University of East Anglia, so I’m hoping that will happen. My current classes are Cultural Studies, History and English Literature and so far, I’m really enjoying them. I recently finished the first units of these classes, for which I was required to write some essays. I’ve posted those up in the Finished Writing Projects section, for anyone interested in reading them. They’re probably a bit dry, but feel free if you want to:
History – The Key Changes of the Industrial Revolution of Great Britain
English – Close Reading of a Passage of Hard Times
Cultural Studies – Conflicting Attitudes to Class in 1950s Britain
Frozen by the shining sun, my mind is set alight by her long breaths. Liquidity. My transformation is complete as full dark slips over the world. I stare at her face, so peaceful in its repose. The ache of my love is so strong now that I fear it will wake her. My mind races across our life together, finding pain. I immerse myself in it so that it can’t defile her.
I am the night watchman.
I guard the innocent light of the day, battling darkness so that the sleeper can rest without worry. Silently waiting for the next wave of foes, I direct my gaze to the window and wait for the birds to sing.
“Why do people have to be this lonely? What’s the point of it all? Millions of people in this world, all of them yearning, looking to others to satisfy them, yet isolating themselves. Why? Was the Earth put here just to nourish human loneliness?
I turned face-up on the slab of stone, gazed at the sky, and thought about all of the man-made satellites spinning around the Earth. The horizon was still etched in a faint glow, and stars began to blink on in the deep, wine-coloured sky. I gazed among them for the light of a satellite, but it was still too bright out to spot one with the naked eye. The sprinkling of stars looked nailed to the spot, unmoving. I closed my eyes and listened carefully for the descendants of Sputnik, even now circling the Earth, gravity their only tie to the planet. Lonely metal souls in the unimpeded darkness of space, they meet, pass each other, and part, never to meet again. No words passing between them. No promises to keep.” (Sputnik Sweetheart by Haruki Murakami, translated by Philip Gabriel)
I live in phases. Up and down I go, from periods of great productivity, joy and vigor to periods of something else altogether. Like Murakami’s strange Sumire who was so cherished by the story’s narrator, I too use writing as a means to think. Just as she did, I go through low phases which find me unable (or more likely unwilling) to think and therefore I avoid the act of writing. I recede from the internet, from books and from anything which may challenge me to think only to come crashing back later, like the returning tide. I don’t know how to prevent these cycles other than to force myself to continue to read, write and engage with my thoughts. I don’t even know if that will work, because my dark days come in force and unexpectedly, gripping me with an unwillingness to engage with the world. I prefer instead to dull my mind and dwell in nothingness until drawn out. Perhaps I need to make a stand or a decision, like in the book. I have love and companionship, but maybe I need a narrator of my own to draw me back from the twin world.
I’m back, for now.
It has been a long time, my friends. I’m sorry. I have news, and some of it is sad. I have just announced the death of HandRooster.com, which you can see more about if you go to the site itself. Needless to say, I find it upsetting because so much went into it. Most of the effort was on Steph’s part but I think that most of the emotional investment was made by me. Though it seems silly, there was a lot of my stupid head in that comic and it makes me sad to see it die.
To tell the truth, I’ve been thinking about getting rid of this blog. I’m not talking about my livejournal account, so if you’re on there reading this you’re safe. I just think that in terms of time and commitment, I may not have enough of one or the other to contribute to a regular blog anymore. I don’t want this site just sitting here as a rotting old blog so I’ve been contemplating just letting the people who know and like me go to my flickr site for my photos and to my livejournal for my rare text updates. This, I’m thinking of turning into a very basic site which could showcase a tiny bit of my writing. We’ll see. No decisions have been made yet.
As for other news, we recently came back from a trip to Puglia, Italy and we have now moved out of Scotland and back south to Norfolk, not far from Norwich. I don’t have any photos ready to show you from Italy, but I’ll do a separate update soon with those. I may do a blog post to accompany that as well to tell about the trip and move, because I think I’m done typing for now. I hope you’re all doing well. Thanks for putting up with me.
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