stay where you belong inside

Ain’t aimed anywhere in particular, I just like ranting.

“Archimedes will be remembered when Aeschylus is forgotten, because languages die and mathematical ideas do not.” – GH Hardy

An interesting thought, unsurprisingly from Hardy the mathematician, not the writer. But you’d think he’d know that ancient Greek is already a dead language, and Greek tragedy is still kicking. This man has been showing me this for weeks.

I get this all the time: Classics is useless. Yes, it’s useless. It’s an arts subject. We don’t construct bridges, we don’t save lives, we don’t complete tax returns. But every day I walk home from my faculty with a little bit more insight into the world around me and the life I’m going to lead and the words that come out of my mouth. Anyone who needs to tackle my subject to the ground to make theirs feel better needs something better to do with their time. Perhaps actually reading some Aeschylus.

In other news, last night was a lot of fun and needs to be repeated, but for now I have a history essay to pull out of my ass and 260 minutes of music rehearsal approaching.

come right out and say it

Tonight I have my first formal of the term. Christ’s people (& co) have been invited to an evening at New Hall with Lou and Ploy – the food’s so much better there. I’m going up early to get dressed with Lou – she often needs my help with these things, nods. I was hoping to have coffee with Dad this afternoon, but the car’s broken down so I have a free afternoon instead. And it’s quite good timing, really, because it gives me more time to get on with my second essay of this week. Slightly faulty timetabling there – tempora, mores, etc.

Besides that, work’s going really well at the moment. I had an essay supervision yesterday on writing scripts and the hows and whys of their development. It’s the first topic in Linguistics I’ve found really, really interesting; Matt heard a lot about that essay while I was writing it. The one I’m working on now is about Roman religion, and their attitudes to early Christians and Bacchants – similarly fascinating stuff, especially because I get a kick out of reading Tacitus on Christus and Pontius Pilatus.

I’m realising too that being an introvert at Cambridge – and an organised one at that – is a real blessing. When I need company, I have Matt and a small circle of friends I feel comfortable with; for the rest of the time, I don’t have much difficulty choosing between noisy socialising and going home to my cosy little room to work in peace. Doing my work well gives me a real pleasure; yesterday I had a ‘This was… excellent’ from DB on some work I handed in, the first superlative I’ve heard from him for anybody after over a year of twice-weekly supervisions. Not much matches that.

Last night I had a rare evening completely alone, and I spent it coding the first website I’ve ever done that’s not a personal one. I’ve become webmaster of my college’s new Classics Society – first event next week! – after optimistically proclaiming last term that I had the skillz necessary. But I’ve kept it simple and it’s looking pretty nice, especially once I remembered the existence of cellspacing and cellpadding=”0″. With a bit more tweaking and uhm, content, it should be pretty good. I’m also really excited by the existence of SRCF – what a fantastic idea.

Anyway, I’d better get back to the Tacitus. If I have time, I also need to do some laundry and solo-practising this afternoon. Good stuff.

you’re not alone in these story’s pages

Today’s the 23rd, which means Milton at the English Faculty. They’re reading the whole of Paradise Lost, nonstop, a different person taking over roughly every hour. I went and sat in for half an hour this morning, and I found it amazingly inspiring, though I couldn’t say why. But I’d imagined that Milton would be difficult to understand, and it isn’t; it’s amazing really that 400 years hasn’t made so much difference.

Anyway. Today is a good day, because after a few days of the normal confusion and incoherency, I’ve finally got an essay, mostly well-formed and nearing conclusion. As usual I haven’t any idea if it’s good, or how it’ll compare to the others, but I’m pleased with it right now; it’s a good representation of my opinions. While writing it this afternoon I also managed to fix my hair up with a pencil and have it stay put, which is delightful because it’s long been an aspiration of mine. Sad but true.

I need to stop using mealtimes as motivation, however. I bought some onion foccachia off the market on my way home, and it’s still sitting on my desk smelling yummy and awaiting consumption. I was also slightly thwarted by forgetting that I’d taken my cheese round to Matt’s last night to cook dinner, so all I have to put on it is mayonnaise. Hopefully I’ll have time to finish this essay, print it and go to Sainsbury’s for cheese before choir.

Speaking of choir, though, dinner should be nice tonight: we’re going out for ‘front row pasta’, a choir bonding tradition (in the stalls the girlies always stand on the two front rows). The boys go out for curry on the same night, and in each camp there’s a lot of good-humoured, sexist discussion about a ‘top three’. It may be the fact that I’m no longer single but I swear the boys of choir just aren’t as attractive this year. Eleven months yesterday, ohoho.

Anyway, arg, must work so that I can eat. See, it works!

can’t seem to get it right today

53 weeks late, I’ve finally caught Freshers’ Flu. It showed up on Saturday evening, in fact, which meant I spent an unpleasant night waking regularly, worrying a lot and downing glasses of water. All for nothing, too, as my voice had left me by 8:30 the following morning, where I was one of only two altos croaking out Palestrina’s Missa Brevis. Lies, incidentally – it wasn’t. Fortunately I was a bit better come evensong.

The rest of the weekend was great, though; I had a Saturday lie-in, a lovely meal at Pizza Express, met a secret boyfriend (not mine), and witnessed a disturbing library-table-sex pact between Tesh and George. I also managed to hand in to my favourite supervisor a piece of paper that was… NOT my latin translation, because I discovered that at the back of my notepad this morning. I think it was just a draft version, though, so not as embarrassing as it could have been. I’ll find out when DB hands it back to me later this afternoon.

And I’m onto a new essay topic/worry for the week: Lucan 8, and whether Pompey’s a tragic hero. While researching said term I was amused to find that wikipedia lists Jack Harkness as one, right next to Oedipus and Othello. To me, tragic heroes have to die. But then, I’m not sure whether means Jack is disqualified or very very eligible.

the lucky ones

So I’ve spent the last few days finishing my Antigone essay, struggling to arrive at lectures on time and keeping six inches away from Matt, who is snivelly. I’ve also attended a Chemistry talk (lots of things got blown up), a Footlights’ Smoker (the first one of term is always the funniest), walked past Nick Clegg without realising and had a supervisor tell the rest of us that she thinks Farzin is “a beautiful boy”. At least, that’s what we think she said. her Italian accent is very thick.

Quote of the week comes from an otherwise deadly lecture on, among other things, the reasons for Romanisation in England: “obviously there’s people running around covered in woad and there’s no aqueducts and it’s all terrible”

It gave Lou and me much-needed mental images in our hour of need (literally).

In other news, yay weekend.

you can fix anything

Oh wow, I just can’t wrap my mind around this essay.

In other news, I can’t believe I’ve only been back here a week. I’m kindof over-busy and stressed and getting tired now, but this is… so perfect. This is what I want. Today I walked through King’s in the morning sunshine, tonight through Christ’s in the illuminated dark. I have everything I need.

It’s so important to keep your perspective. After that, all I need to do is develop an opinion on whether gender is a critical factor in defining moral action in the Antigone.

that urban genie thing going on

• sort music
• ice three cakes
• pack… everything…

cleaning the windows between us two

The Weepies – Slow Pony Home

This is my favourite song by The Weepies, and that’s saying something. The music is simple, like a lullaby, but it brings out the lovely, lovely precision of the lyrics. Simplicity is a difficult concept for any musician, but these two get it and they use it well. This is ‘comfort food’ music.

I can remember when I first saw you
You said in my photograph I looked more far away
I laughed and smiled and didn’t say “I am a bit afraid to be here.”

spend some time, love

Lol windows.

“Installation may take a few mintues. Feel free to do other things while you wait.”

Aww, thanks.

I’m not updating much because I’m not doing much. But I’m going back to Cambridge on Saturday! Little excited, little (/lot) nervous, but now that most others have gone back, things are a little too quiet here and I’m eager for some new challenges. Before then, I need to bake two more birthday cakes for uni friends and… pack all my stuff. gah. And Mum and I are shopping tomorrow. I think I’ll be kept busy.

Oh, and I narrowly avoided an awkward slip-up yesterday. NB, when a parent says, “This time next week you’ll be waking up in your new bed!”, do not respond with anything but assent.