A long silence followed by many words?

A lot has changed since my last semi-existentialist post.

I am now a parent. A postgraduate student thanks to my little degree I did those few years ago. I co-curate a gallery part time. Freelance translator. Temporary receptionist/admin at the NHS services my university schedule permitting.

So stuff keeps happening.

I have been procrastinating whether to start blogging again for a while. Part of the reason is the fact that I am putting a PhD proposal forward and for all I know I may have to go publicly begging in some crowdfunding project to fund my ambition with a promise of returning something to the community at the end of the long three years. I may not have to though but that will depend on many factors.

However, being an overambitious Masters student this year I felt the urge to return to the public-private space of blogging to record the experience for my self and other optimists like me out there. I cannot truly and honestly say I will blog every week or every day. I simply don't know. The truth is I want to, but we so many nappies to change and assignments to write (besides tonnes and tonnes of books to read for my coursework) I cannot promise anything to either myself or my invisible audience.

I find it almost funny how after so many years of drifting in and out of the blogging space, and my writing getting better through sheer power of university education in conformity, I find myself back here. Having seen the rise of the blog and the fall of it into almost oblivion...

Really unless you are an almost celebrity who occasionally forgets to wear her knickers or a well known journalist blogging is more of a hobby for the sake of itself these days. I may be wrong though as quite obviously between the coursework and nappies and what else gets in the way I could be considered backward in modern day culture. That is quite ironic as study of literature, as that is what I do, is all about watching, noting, commenting on the evolution of culture as it is happening. Luckily for me I find myself specialising in the field of days past, of works already written and not still in the nappies of the creative process. Oh those nappies! They get everywhere.

anglophile being a mother does not change her as a being, but it did change her perspective. Anyone who thinks that they remain the same after they have kids are naive at best and delusional at worst. Everything changes. Because your life changes. Your philosophical wanderings in the shower get interrupted with: need to buy new shoes for ...., running out of baby wipes, play group is tomorrow at 9:30am et cetera, et cetera. Those interruptions are infinite at every single minute of your day and it is lovely because besides all those trivial ego feeding missions we set out for ourselves there is one that is almost altruistic and not self centred.

Academic life does not go well with family life and surely there must be plenty of individuals who can attest to that! I have not been to a single complimentary seminar or indeed a student party since the beginning of this academic year and it is ok, I have more fun things to do, like catching up with my reading whilst thinking of all those almost altruistic tasks. Still, my idea is that whilst me being a parent will most likely interfere and interrupt my blogging this blog is not about how to be an awesome maman and rule the world. I will leave that to others. Instead I will attempt to make cultural observations and participate whenever possible.

Something dishonest and pretentious

Haven't shown myself here since December. Of course I can make all the excuses under the sun, poor little me I work full time, I study full time, I fold underpants part time...

The truth is: lack of motivation. Honestly my life is such a pure form of boring there can not be much to be written about. I mean I live in a little flat, in a little town, lead a little life, with a little job, which entitles me to a little position of importance and a little wage.

I contribute very little to the world or to the society or to the human experience of creation because I am too swallowed up by my little existence.

By the looks of things that existence will get even more monotonous and boring before anything can possibly happen. The best I can offer is my creative writing course assignment submissions which according to the marks I received for them were not that good either.

I do not want to pretend to be more interesting or exciting than I truly am and the only question here is: why am I clinging onto something that is of no value to human experience in general? I have done a lot of things that I wanted to do... I wrote for a living a lot, I was good under pressure, but three years have passed since I last wrote an article of any significance (interestingly the date does coincide with my departure for the UK!) it is all now in the past and I have put very little effort into getting the ball rolling again. With once exception: I did write two letters to the ecologist offering myself as one of those plonkers that work for free and they did not care much for me (which is perfectly justified as they must have had a great amount of far more interesting people writing to them!)...

The point, I suppose, is the time has come for me to pull myself together and into action again or put all my dreams on the back burner, which I can't be asked to do. If I chose to follow my heart then I need a strategy and a plan and dedication, the same kind of dedication and persistence that got me published the first time round...

In that sense there is no space in here or anywhere in my life to pretend that I am too busy or too self important to write and thus I have just to delete this blog and move on or work hard on this baby and make it worth my and everybody else's while.

This is where it becomes obvious of how dishonest and pretentious I have been with myself. There is nothing wrong with the Anglophile apart from occasional toss-ups in pronunciation and avalanches of excuses for laziness.

If only I did not have to live with my own conscience...

Cannot be bothered to care

Maybe it was my last creative writing assignment where I was crticised for my punctuation. Maybe it is because I am really depressed and haven't got the balls to go to doctor and refuse another prescription of antidepressants. Maybe because when an ex colleague turns up at work with a baby my brain does not go fuzzy and I feel no urge to reproduce.

I don't see myself as a cynic. I am a realist and like to stand with my both feet firmly on the ground at all times. For those reasons I am accused of being miserable yet I live with a man who expects the world to end next year.

I can't stand the stupidity around me. Not even bothered to enter the discussion. My ideals do not exist. Expectations can never be met. So what will my ranting achieve? Does the blogosphere really need extra infusions of disappointment and despair?

I can't go round telling people they haven't discovered a way to make a new Earth. So all I can do instead is pretend not to care. I have no urge to express myself not because I have a writer's block or will not be heard or misunderstood. I simply see no point. Now or anytime in the near future.

I have given up on fitting in or being an outcast. Yet our society expects only these two options. I am suffocating from stupidity and see no cure for it. So I will go into my corner like so many before myself and say and do as little as possible.

Sleepless

Saturday was an amazing day. I got to experience the brainstorming process for drama writing with three actors in an amazing Creative Writing tutorial. If that wasn't enough I then got to spend an hour in front of one of my favourite paintings in the National Gallery. For desert I visited Gerhart Richter exhibition in Tate Modern which I found extremely inspiring. I aaw such a variety techniques used by the same artist that I wished I could afford to buy quite a few reproductions...
Today I am absolutely exhausted. All due to the fact that I have a terrible jaw pain which is either a jaw infection or a toothache which I will find out next week when I visit my lovely tooth fairy...
The sleeplessness is not all down to my face being a painful object to place on a pillow it is also because today I have to deliver my assignment. It was actually sent this morning at 3 am. Mr Moon was very generous and kind with his time and perused my essay. I am full of doubt but that is part of the post-delivery-panic. Now the hard part begins: waiting for results and staying focused on the studies at the moment. All will be well but at the end of the day my annual result should be no lower than 70 for that much desired grade 2 pass...

Out of the way

Couple of days ago I deluvered my first assignment for this academic year. It was quite a historic moment as for the first time in my higher education experience I delivered the assingment early.
Now it is on to the hard part. I have to wait for the results. This year I am working a lot harder as I do desire higher results. All because I want at least 2:1 degree as I no longee can dream of a first.
On Tuesday I have to deliver assignment this time it is on 19th century literature or Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen to be specific. I have analysed the passage throroughly and made an enormous amount of notes all in the hope that it will help me deliver a better essay. So tomorrow after my day school in London on Creative Writing I am going to sit down and start working on my essay which I am hoping to smoothe out by Sunday and to send off Monday again a day early before deadline. I think it is a good habit to get into as with all the work, house work, home improvements et cetera I have to be extremely conscious when planning my time. It is all for greater good; I just hope it will pay off.