Time for another episode of my life! It's like I Hate It Here, with a little I'm so poor and depressed, topped of with pop culture references and then just a smidgen of wow hey there's this girl. META.
I managed to go for the entirety of October without writing and publishing an entry here, and we're over halfway through November with almost the same statistic. Basically, 3rd year has turned out to be what we in the trade call a shitter, much like the step from GCSE to A level really. Last year, quite basically, fucked me up, and to be perfectly honest I'm very lucky to have stepped back onto campus let alone stay. I'm going to make the best of a bad job, and clear as much of this mess up as I possibly can. I have no idea how many weeks are left to term...about 4? Makes sense; Spamcroft doesn't finish til the 19th of December, and term only just behind on the 17th. I've got a horror story of things to do in that time, and most of this includes getting up early and eating regularly, the latter of which is usally one of my skills, the former famously a non-entity.
Due to my complete inability to budget, I am down to YOU ARE FUCKED into my overdraft. Man, debt never got so self-perpetuating! Zomg. Actually it's really bad, this stuff is just slipping through my fingers, certainly not dripping any more! Drat. I don't know, it could be worse, but at the moment it's flat out bad. Importantly survivable though, and a damn good character building experience! At least, I'm sure that suffering builds character, right?
Over the past term I have been asked to continue for an entire cantata, learn a new piece for a recital in 3 weeks, learn my sung recital in 2 weeks, play hymns, organise and direct a choir, direct evensong, be the librarian for the UEA choir, not kill anyone...&c &c. You get the point. Yes, I'm sure some of you losers out there will see all this off with the tipping of your voluminous hat, but for some of us this is difficult. Very difficult. I recieve no sympathy, because I don't ask for any. Academic and musically based tasks can be shifted under my own steam with effort and that's it. Making sure everything else is in ship shape is another matter though. Work just about comes in on the radar, but I'm the tiniest bit behind (but constantly trying to not be), that 9am start on a Monday never gets any easier, does it? YES I KNOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE 9AM STARTS EVERY DAY OF EVERY WEEK. Jesus Christ...
Dissertation-wise, I actually feel pretty happy though! I'm writing an incredible beard-scratcher about the English Pipe Organ in the Eighteenth and early Nineteenth centuries. I'm going out on a massive limb and say that in comparison to Continental building fashions, the English Organ was basically anomalous, but the developments that took place are a worthy addition to the international tradition of Organ Building. Basically, due to the short length (10k-12k, bibliography and footnotes included), I will only have room to write about two things, which are the main focus of the anomalous trend anyway, the Swell Department and the so-called 'Iron Pedal, the Shifting Movement. Registration aids never really caught on in the big continental schools like they did in Blightly, and enclosed departments even later...except for the Iberian school? Much research is needed. But it'll be good! Honest. If you're into that sort of thing though.
And what about the most predictably ponderous part of my life? What of that capricious and alluring female form? Well, what of it indeed. Current results are...hmm...Confounding. I'm still having that same old problem of mixing messages and misreading signs. Just like always. At least some things never change, eh? Tcham, to hell if I know! There is one in particular (isn't there always?) who has really got my attention. Without even trying, obviously. There are points if you can guess, but I doubt anyone will, especially if I keep this cryptic enough...heh heh. But it's strange, I have began to treat this girl slightly differently to others without even realising I'm doing so, in fact I found myself reacting mentally to my physical actions in a rather surprised way. The long and the short of it is I have no genuine idea whether it'll go anywhere or if I'll get the "That's so sweet but..." line (oh how I tire), but you know, I feel a little closer to an actual human being than usual, and that makes me happy. Who knows where anything else could go. If I do indeed try, it means stepping up onto a supernatural stage, where truly I am an alien in foreign lands. But as we all know, all the world's a stage and the rest...the rest is vaudeville.
More time, and a little patience will tell. Maybe some self belief won't go amiss either. You know what he says...CREDO!
