No relation to the makeup of the same name by lush.
Emotions are tricky beasts, aren’t they? Like wildebeests; they stalk the dark passages of your mind, lurking about dangerously and assaulting passing neural impulses.
But seriously, you can’t trust an emotion. They’re practically feral. Say you’re reading a book on a train. Ok, fair enough. It’s a funny book. Ok,that’s fine. It’ll keep my attention for longer. So funny I’m sitting there giggling weirdly. Er, right. Setting aside the obvious issues inherent in a society where laughing in public is an action worthy of death, that’s the fault of emotion, right? If you could just keep a lid on that humour, the woman in the seat across the aisle wouldn’t be giving you such a dodgy look.
Dodgy looks are the worst, aren’t they.
I’m reasonably certain this isn’t normal. I mean, most people don’t look like they’re wandering around internally screaming “is this joy or am I just experiencing wind?!” (Not that I’ve ever wondered that in particular). But then again, I wouldn’t know. It’s all so tricky. And what are you supposed to say when people ask how you’re feeling? I don’t know seems to make people worry more, like maybe you’re suffering from a lack of feeling and might be about to pitch yourself off a roof or something. I don’t think a phobia of heights counts as an emotion, so it’s ok that I know I have it.
And then you get the whole different degrees of emotion thing. Wrath versus anger, joy compared to exuberance; I’ve studied them, with somewhat limited success, and I’m pretty sure at least 75% of it all is nonsense.
C’est la vie. I’m off to hunt down a few wildebeests.
I almost can’t believe it’s the end of term already. I mean, I obviously can believe it because I’m capable of consulting a calendar, but it’s weird how quickly the time’s gone. It seems like only yesterday I had to knock on the window of my kitchen because I’d forgotten the temporary door code, and here I am now; sitting on the sofa typing this blog post. How time flies when you’re writing essays.
I even had my hair cut! Maybe I should get it cut more than once every 12 weeks though…
I’ve learnt a fair amount, some of it even about music. I’ve made friends (hooray), learnt recipes, mastered the art of casually talking when the cleaners are in, and most importantly I’ve managed to calculate the exact amount of milk necessary for the perfect cup of tea. (You put too much milk in Neha!)
I’ve done all my Christmas shopping (yay), so all I have to do now is… nothing at all. It’s going to be nice spending a few weeks with absolutely nothing to do.
Merry Christmas you lot.
It’s the end of term, and we all know what that means…
It’s essay time!
That’s right, the bit where you have to do essays on the things you’ve learnt over the course of the term. In my case it’s essays, because I have to do an essay for history of music, an essay for world music, an essay(ish) for creative ensemble performance, and some exercises for my composition module.
(As you may have guessed, this is me PROCRASTINATING. As I am writing this post, I am not a) composing, b) essay planning, or c) researching for my essay) Fortunately, I have now done all but two of the above things. And I’ve done all but one of my composition exercises, so that cool.
I mean the deadline is next Wednesday, NO PRESSURE RIGHT omg I might actually just die or something.
P.S. I have now finished all my assignments with one day to spare. They will know that I only had one day to spare because I had to say in one of my references when I accessed it HOSHIZZ
MERRY CHRISTMAS GAAAAAIS