and then some

Dinner’s cooking. Times like these I really wish I had a hob; tonight I’m doing sweet and sour caramelised shallots in the slow cooker, and it’s meant to be with egg noodles but I think it’s going to be with bread and cheese instead. this is what the book next to me would call cross-cultural assimilation. only more tasty.

I’ve been busy. I can’t say how glad that makes me. This term is as different from the last two years as I’ve been able to make it, and it’s working. Charles’ death has made me realise that eventually you grow up and you become a person with souvenir scars and thoughts that will never leave you but which you can’t afford to give space to. I will never stop feeling the loss of his death and I’ll never again be young enough to feel invulnerable. The only thing I can do is carry him with me.

Another recent loss received its silver lining last night. I’ve been busy, as I said, and a lot of it’s been to distract me, but it’s also happened because I couldn’t before and now I can. Last night I went to a birthday formal for someone I like but don’t socialise much with outside of choir. Matt doesn’t know her very well, I don’t know many of her other friends, and if I’d still been in a relationship I wouldn’t have gone last night because oh noes, who would I sit with or talk to? It would’ve been easier to have a quiet night in with the boyfriend. I still thought this, but since I don’t have that option anymore I went anyway and I ended up having a really fun time with people I hadn’t known so well before. Loss hurts, but I’m slowly learning to live the things I guess I already knew: being alone and being independent are just a matter of perspective, and no-one but me can make me strong. and you can also invite strange boys back to your room to fix your internet, which was an entirely unforeseen plus point.

Two other really cool things coming soon:

• Nano! A few late nights ago, I sat myself down with an A4 pad and I drew a castle, then a stick figure, then many more stick figures, bullet points, arrows, and suddenly I had people and secrets and a sparky, love-hate dynamic between my two mains that I can’t wait to write. The paper’s gone up on my wall so I can gaze at it. still needs moar plot, but this is a really nice start.
• Jess and Stu are visiting on Tuesday <3333333333
  

put me in the magic position

I can’t think of a good reason for this but I’m in a great mood this evening. Though I did spend today wearing my sole item of designer clothing (a mud-coloured high-waited skirt that I love) with my very old, painted-these-myself-four-years-ago rainbow converse, which is probably part of it. yes. I am that wild.

I also had another very pleasant ‘meeting’ with my dissertation supervisor where we didn’t talk about anything very useful but I came out of it feeling very reassured. odd. Perhaps better than yesterday, though, where we met for an hour and spent half of it talking about penetration. It was relevant, honest. so um tonight I’m going to try to live up to his confidence and go read another book about men in drag. Dissertation is still disconcerting but at least my topic is awesome.

Spent a lot of time last night watching this video. have no excuse for my actions. um. the time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time?

looking for yourself

dissertation tldr:

I set myself a 5pm deadline for sending this dissertation work in. DID NOT HAPPEN. I had a Go meeting tonight and instead I’ve ended up staying in trying to perfect this monster essay. I don’t mind, really; it’s coming together, and I’d rather get this right for a good first impression with dissertating supervisor.

At the moment it’s still lacking any strong sense of logical progression, but it’s got some great ideas in. Also some hot sentences. In Nero’s this afternoon I could not contain my excitement any longer and after one particularly awesome sentence about metamorphic process had to text my dissertation compatiot and tell him about it. I don’t have anyone who gets my extreme Hermaphroditus-related joy, (probably a good thing,) but I think writing any kind of dissertation puts you through a similar obsessive process.

I have also got the phrase “weirdly amoral gods” in my head and really want to use it because it’s pithy and perfect. If only I could remember which of the thirteen books on my bibliog it was from…

AHHH LOOK WHAT I JUST FOUND.

This may be my saddest moment yet. And yet, so happy right now.

one minute there was road beneath us

Cooking is my therapy. How did I only realise this now?

Our recital went really well this evening. It was such a scratch concert but it felt great to play again, and to hear the rest of the committee play, and to be reminded why we go through all this hassle of endless discussing and planning and organising. In the best moments I missed Charles a lot, because this was what he was about, and he would have laughed as hard as I did at the truly amazing Wallisisms (“This is a piece about flirting and death”), and our very rude madrigal about “bonking” and he would have loved Alex’s Debussy and Gershwin.

So the recital was heartwarming and beautiful, and afterwards we moved en masse to the bar and Matt and I spent two hours sitting at the same table talking to everyone except each other. I have never missed him more than when he was sitting right across from me, telling other people those things I never paid much attention to. When I got back this evening I was expecting to have a therapeutic weep, only, once I was finally alone I realised I was kindof hungry and made dinner instead. (lol priorities.) I chopped a pepper, an onion and some mushrooms, I opened a can of tomatoes and green pesto, and I put them all in the slow cooker on high for an hour. As soon as I was finished, I found I was okay again.

I wanted to share this. It should be done by now so I’ll go fetch it and finish watching Grey’s Anatomy and think about the things I love. Especially mushrooms.

Ridiculously good-looking friend got into Cambridge.

it’s a new day, it’s a bright day

I just sent this text: “There are FOOTPRINTS on my FRIDGE”

wrong wrong wrong. I kindof don’t want to clean them off, though. Memories of a happy, spontaneous evening. a bunch of us went to see a worthy but really depressing Greek tragedy, then to a pub, then I brought an Emily home with me and showed her Jon’s tower and my battlements.*

In other equally weird news, I just had a really good singing lesson. We spent forty minutes doing one vocal exercise and it actually worked, though everything I had to remember to do (read: everything I have been doing wrong for years) ended up like a game of “I went to the store and bought…”. With muscle memory it will get easier. nevertheless WHAT, I do not have notes that high.

*any relation to subtexts living or dead is entirely coincidental.

back back back

So I’ve arranged to hand in the first bit of my dissertation next week. A deadline is just what I need to make me work!, I thought. aha. ahahah. oh crap.

In other news, I need to learn to sing this by tomorrow* and play this by Friday. I’ve taken to practising in my pantry because the acoustic is so much better. I think Bach likes it there.

*petulant sidenote: I sang qui sedes as a solo about four years ago, performing it in front of hundreds of people when I’d never had any singing lessons. Why did it come easier then it does now? I’m not even suggesting I have higher standards now, I really just sang it better four years ago. LAME.

when i’m low that i

but coming home I feel like I designed the buildings I walk by

forget about the sunshine

Oh no no NO absolutely not acceptable to say ‘I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours’ in response to second cutest boy in choir promising to send me photos of the dinner he cooked himself in his slow cooker. just. BAD.

These are the sounds of Hetty rebounding in all directions, having had choir formal and wine taken – dangerous enough – then bar and brandy taken then friend’s room and dessert wine taken. I really need to get more subtle about these things.

on a planet that insists

“To be fair, the novels emerging on our hard drives were far from the works of genius we’d secretly hoped for. They were stiff and awkward creatures, riddled with enormous plot holes, their loose ends flopping lewdly. But they were beautiful in their own ungainly way. And absolutely breathtaking in their potential.”

This is exactly how I felt when, last week, I reread my Nanowrimo of maybe three years ago. It has some seriously low points (“It was an UNSCRIBABLE snort!”) but more high ones than I remember. I had an interesting world and interesting characters and even a bit of plot. Also, a boy in a dress.

This is coming up now because I met Ev for coffee this afternoon and she told me in a rather apologetic way that she has decided to go against my excellent advice and do Nanowrimo again this year. Yes, she’s in her final year and our studies kindof matter this time around. I told her this. Only, to my dismay, I also found myself tentatively suggesting that I do it too. Hey, it almost makes sense – in these new circumstances I have way too much free time, and I don’t want to get obsessive over work to make up for it. Writing a novel would give me something to do and something to show for it too.

WHAT AM I SAYING THIS IS MADNESS. (obligatory cultural reference)

…anybody else want to join in?

Tonight I watch Merlin, read this excellent book of Ev’s and try to find something to write 50,000 (more) words about. But first I have roast peppers stuffed with tomato and basil and mozzarella to consume.