A Random Bout of Typing.

I’m feeling rather good about myself at the moment. I was not rushing around trying to get everything done this morning, and I wrote a decent amount, so I’m pretty proud of myself, actually, since in the mornings, I’m generally not motivated to do anything. I also finished one essay in the weekend, so that might contribute to my confidence this morning, since I have almost three weeks to work on my other one.

I’m waiting for the university printer to work at the moment. It’s still early, so the room is relatively empty. There are still free computers. Later in the day, it will be very full. I have so many papers in my backpack that it is not funny. I’ll have to sort them out and file them tonight, or else I’ll lose track of everything and I’ll never be able to locate my notes. It takes so much energy to simply make myself do the work though. I’d much rather write about something, as long as it is prose and not something argumentative. Now, that takes far too much energy.

The concrete outside is dark with water. The branches of the trees are skeletal in the pale grey winter light; they are naked, save for a few brown withered leaves still clinging onto them. Very few people are out and about on this cold dreary mrning. I can see two people sitting on a bench, talking and smoking. Well, at least one of them is talking. The other just sits there, staring in front of her as if she is simply part of the landscape.

Waves of hot hair waft from the heater beside me. It gets a bit irritating, actually, but I chose the seat because it was close to the window and because the computer was already on, so I wouldn’t have to wait for it to start up. There is a text that I have to read for this afternoon’s tutorial, right after my class on Islamic history. I don’t feel like reading it, but I know I have to, or else I won’t be able to contribute. However, the remnants of the weekend still stain my mind. I want to make a video for YouTube, or just simply type and let the sound of my fingers tapping on the keyboard sooth me. It’s almost like meditating. Whenever I just let myself go and simply write or type, it’s like I’ve gone into a trance. Nothing really seems to matter except the sound of the keyboard and the words of the screen, or, if I’m writing with pen and paper, the scratch of the pen, the scribbles, and the texture of the paper.

My eyelids feel heavy, as if I am about to fall asleep again. It must be the warmth of the room, and my relaxed state, because if it was a bit colder, I would be wide awake. Temperature is so important to levels of concentration. I like it a little bit cooler, but everyone else seems to be fine in the warmth. Perhaps I’m used to a colder temperature indoors, since at my place, we hardly ever use heaters, prefering to wear coats indoors.

Perhaps I should stop typing now. My fingers on the keyboard feel good, but the sound and the rhythm are making me sleepy.

 

The Key to My Imagination

I have not written anything at all today, mainly because I slept in. Everything seems to be closing in around me. I have two essays to write, a test on Monday, so many history books that I need to read. I need to learn the first three Crusades, and all the evidence I’ve found about the fall of the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem is contradictory. I suppose it’s a subject in which there is no mid ground. I am undeniably biased towards the Ibelins, thanks to the movie. They don’t seem that bad, compared with all these other people whom I have read about. I certainly prefer the ‘Dove’ faction to the ‘Hawks’. The Doves seemed smarter, and they cared about the state of the Kingdom. I’m not fond of crusaders, but movies do influence me a lot and I like Balian of Ibelin, real or fictional.

I’m in university again, class starts in 25 minutes. So far, I have resisted my desire for coffee, since the vending machine swallowed up my two dollars yesterday and didn’t give me my M ‘n’ M’s, and I’m hoping to make up for that stupid incident by saving up the dollar sixty, which is how much a coffee costs. Besides, this class isn’t one which needs a caffeine boost. I’ll be having one tomorrow though, because of this boring boring compulsory class in which the lecturer cannot even speak properly.

I know I should be working or reading history books in preparation for the exams, but I’m really not in the mood. The library is so hot and stuffy, and I need to see Kingdom of Heaven; It’s a ‘desperate and unyielding need’, if I may quote Jack Sparrow from Pirates. I don’t know why I’m being so slack this year. All right, I was slack last year as well, but at least I knew what I was doing last year. This year, I have no idea where I’m going, and it’s actually important. I need the good grades to be accepted into the first professional year for Speech and Language Therapy training. They only take a small percentage of people, and not many make it out successfully as Speech and Language Pathologists/Therapists.

I have texts which I need to read, but they’re at home, and I really can’t be bothered reading more academic language for the week. I need to read some good fiction, preferably lighthearted and silly.

In this prison I sit

surrounded by books

Their pages muffle the noises outside

 

Words entrap me

coming out of pages

Winding themselves about my head

 

I’ve had enough, I say,

I need to be free

to feel and hear and breathe

 

And in the darkness I grope

for a way out of prison.

What’s this? A chink, a ray of light

seeps into the murky gloom

 

My fingers scrabble.

I find a pen,

and an open door on blank pages

 

The pen is a key.

I open the door,

and step into my imagination.

 

Yeah, that’s my bad poetry. I can’t write poetry — I only muck around with it when I’m insanely bored.

 

 

 

 

Smoothly? Perhaps…if I’m lucky

The first day of term/semester is always smooth, because after a long rest, I have finally saved up enough motivation to do what I’m supposed to do (i.e. apply myself to my studies) for at least three days. Afterwards, who knows. Then again, this morning, I stuck to my ‘rise early for writing’ regime, and I got about six hundred words done on my latest fanfic chapter, even though some of it was not what I consider ‘my best’. At least it happened, and that’s made me happy.

I also fell asleep for twenty minutes during Linguistics class, but that’s beside the point. The point is that I have gone back to my routine, and it really does stave off writer’s block, at least it acts as some sort of immunization, so if I get it, I don’t have it for as long. Anyway, Linguistics is a subject that I can learn simply by looking at the text book. Sometimes I don’t even know why I attend class. Perhaps I’ve never really been a person who has a tendency to skip classes and skive off responsibilities. To make my day even better, I got my Linguistics test back, and I got an A+. That was all without studying, much. As I’ve said. That textbook is really quite useful. And I can never study properly.

At the moment, I’m in the university’s computer room. I have about ten minutes to go before I have to go to class but I still haven’t received the notes in the email. Yes, we get our notes in the email so we can fall asleep in class if we really need to. It’s really hot in here, and I’m sweating. That might be due to the fact I’m sitting next to the radiator and I’ve just had as large hot coffee, with seven teaspoons of sugar. I like my sugar. I know I’m rambling. Caffeine high, perhaps? Sorry for rambling and being boring, people. I need to write something, but at the moment, the academic part of me is suppressing the artist, and so even though I feel the need to write, I don’t have anything interesting to write, because I’m using logic and my caffeine high. And my journal is at home.