"Life's short. Talk fast."

The days are slowly consisting of too much of this, and not enough reading (or anything else that is going to contribute effectively to my degree).

Pointless.

My attempts to get back into a routine are failing. I can't sleep no matter what time I go to bed, I end up sitting on bed with a pen and paper, writing for hours. The worst thing is, what I'm writing is irrelevant to everything else. I'm wasting time, reading things totally unrelated to me course, scribbling on scraps of paper, listening to music that reminds me of nights out and painting my nails green (my new favourite thing to do). The problem is that I want to work, but one of the other things that walked out of my life recently is concentration. I feel I should go on a quest to hunt it down and force it back into my life. Otherwise the new plan might fall apart.

This week has been good though. Girls night, which resulted in 20 girls gathered in our living room, some slightly improved lectures, a definite lack of work, a 'collective cold', an eventful night out in town, and far too much excitement at the new series of X Factor.

This is an almost pointless post, as I have so much I want to say and I am saying none of it. So I'm going to post this, and go to bed.

"Let's not forget that the little emotions are the great captains of our lives and we obey them without realizing it." ~Vincent Van Gogh, 1889

The Rare Event

When an author captures your heart and your mind, and becomes someone you admire for reasons hard to explain, you know that the book you have read is incredible. For me, that author is Nicole Krauss. 'The History of Love' and 'Man Walks Into A Room' are two of the most incredible books I have ever read, and now sit on my shelf, never to be removed. There are so many quotes from 'The History of Love' that speak to me, that I find it hard to pick a favourite but, if I had to, at this moment in time, it would probably be this:

"What about you? Are you happiest and saddest right now that you've ever been?" "Of course I am." "Why?" "Because nothing makes me happier and nothing makes me sadder than you."

A Quick Rant

When did it become so hard to use a comma correctly? Or to write in sentences that actually make sense. When you spend a lot of time writing or doing things that require a grasp on the English language that can at least be called adequate there is no excuse for bad grammar, or bad literacy in general. I realise I sound snobby and harsh, but I will admit that at times even I make errors. The difference is that I pay attention to what I write and try to avoid these errors at all times. It is the job I am considering going into, and I am very aware of the way people will think of me if my writing is not up to scratch. So tell me, dear, why on earth do you insist on writing when you fail quite epically at getting anything across in CLEAR English???

I Dream Big.

Today I started writing again. Well, strictly speaking, I started writing again at the beginning of the week but today I put pen to paper and wrote more than one small paragraph that had the potential to be more but never would be. I've always tried the "write what you know" technique without much success but now I think may be getting somewhere. I know what I want to write, I know how I want it to end, and I know the style in which I want it to be written. Now it is just a matter of getting my thoughts straight, the words in the right order on the page and then making sure those words tell something that someone would want to read. It's weird what I have been finding inspiring lately. I've taken to sleeping with a notebook beside my bed again, on the off chance that something amazing might appear in my mind as I try and get off to sleep. And maybe one day these ideas might be someone's favourite thing to read. I dream big. Always have, always will.

30 Days Have September...

This week has been a scattered mix of awful and wonderful, and it is only Thursday. My lectures so far (except for one) have been brilliant and I am so excited about the upcoming semester that it is almost sad. I have a lot of reading to do this weekend, so there will be not much time for me to be messing around doing nothing, like I have for the last few weeks. I'm still far too used to lounging around in my pyjamas and wasting the day away doing pointless things, and I need to break these habits pretty quickly. I cannot believe that it is almost October; time has gone so quickly and I am more than a little frightened. My life is changing with the season and rather than panic and cry, I have decided to embrace it and see what happens.

This could be interesting.

Cinderella Was A Liar.

I started reading when I was young. Like, really young. I loved books, I loved words and I loved the magic that authors could create on paper. Fairy tales were my favourite, for a very long time. And then I grew up. I realised there was no such thing as magic, or happily ever after, and that nothing in life is free. There are no wishes and magical relations to come and make things happen for you; everything is done off your own back and no one will help you. Not really.

The first time I got called cynical I was so angry; I claimed, and still do claim, that it is not cynicism, it is merely a practical view of the world. I believe I will get where I want to with hard work and determination, and if I don't the fault is entirely my own. I believed in fate, but I believe we make our own fate happen. We have to put in something to gain whatever it is we are chasing. Love, money, success...Everyone is chasing something. But you're going to keep running unless you take responsibilty for your life.

Love was something I had a hard time believing in. I've seen love in its best and worst forms. I've seen commitment and betrayal, utter devotion and a complete lack of trust. I watched someone have their heart broken and completely lose their way. I've watched a misinterpreted infatuation become blown out of proportion and I've seen someone take a backseat while everything they want moves further and further away. There is no set story or standard plot for love to follow, but there is a fundamental structure that all relationshps should be built on. When that is fractured, even slightly, there is no hope. No matter what you tell yourself, no matter how many apologies are uttered or gifts given, you broke something basic. Buildings don't stand once the foundations are broken.

And so here's the thing. Cinderella, she was my favourite. She had nothing. Essentially, she was nothing. But there was something in her that spoke out to the Prince, and yes, she needed her fairy godmother's help; she needed the gown and the pumpkin and everything else to get noticed, and she only had a narrow time frame to work with (a good night is usually in full swing at midnight...who on earth would want to leave then??). But she made it happen. Her Prince Charming fell in love and she left behind her glass slipper (accident?) so he could come and find her. He found her and he loved her and they lived happily ever after. This does not happen in real life. Prince Charming will smash your glass slipper, and smash your heart with just as much ease, and with no obvious remorse at all. The truth is, sometimes it is too much to believe in happily ever after, because when it doesn't come the disappointment is all the more devestating.

Cinderella was a liar.

But I'm intrigued to see how this plays out for that other character, the one not mentioned in the common version: the lesser one who broke it from the start.