2009-01-18
fighting the phobia
I've been procrastinating actually writing, like I've developed some new phobia to it.
I think I'm afraid I'll have too much or too little to say.
I've become incredibly self-conscious about my writing, ever since we got this 'creative writing assignment.' It makes me try to think like a writer, which is probably actually a stupid idea. i don't think having the mind of a writer is something you can aspire for. that just sounds so forced and deliberate, and it removes an essence of truth from writing: truth is not pressed, tugged, forced, and stressed in the natural creases of the mind. it unfolds in its own time; the truth must be presented truly, rather than with a false effort.
i've already talked too much about this. it's painstaking to read because it sucks so hard. i can only hope i'll get over it, like an itch you finally let alone. onto something else.
i am sitting in on a philosophy methods class at king's college on monday. the professor i'm observing looks really legit. he's published many works, and he's big on epistemology and philosophy of mind, which makes me actually squirm with excitement. i'm going to brush up on some of my philosophy notes before i go. Revisiting plato, hume, locke, Descartes, Spinoza�good friends from this summer! And the professor wants to meet me afterward! think he'll offer me a job?! how do people get jobs, anyway?
this city is not strikingly European, or maybe I was just expecting something much more foreign. some things will seem suspiciously off: a snatched soundbyte of a spare street conversation will pick up words like "lorry" or "prat." the cars are way too fast- they make a pedestrian (me) fear for their lives. everyone looks like they spent a half-hour contemplating their outfits: no saggy sweaters, loose and printed t-shirts, and cargo pants here. but you know they only practically threw their clothes on in the dark- with a genuine and enviable nonchalance. the grocery stores are more elegant, the butchers wear tidy straw hats. salads are especially pretty. signs in buildings say 'way out' instead of 'exit.' little things like that would make you skeptical that you're still in america. i can hear my own accent now. my voice sounds a tad nasal, and my tongue is lackadaisical.
This city makes me feel clumsy. In my newborn phase, I feel unpoised and like all my na�ve confusion and bafflement is on display, with my eager and impressionable excitement contrasted by the stoic and disinterested expressions on everyone else�s face. My shoes don�t have fashionable heels (unlike most London girls), but I�M the one who�s wobbly and stumbling.
I feel less feminine and sophisticated here. I have black shirts, but not super slim ones with harsh cut lines. I have the metropolitan pea coat, but it�s an innocent, friendly corduroy, not a bold, classic ebony. I feel androgynous and po-dunk here. And while I don�t intent to change myself (I like my style), it could be fun to infiltrate my way into the fashion scene a bit- on my own terms, of course.
so many of the museums are free. i best like to go alone, because then you don't have to wait for anyone and no one has to wait for you. the british empire wasn't very nice to the nations it overpowered. i'm sure the egyptians are itching to get some of this stuff back (the spinx's goatee thing in particular), but here it is, in the land of the queen mother. all these exhibition rooms, filled with stolen relics, the theft somehow justified since it was for academic purposes. i enjoy looking at this old stuff. i try to orient my mind to comprehending how old the stuff really is, in a tangible way that's not just some number. "this house is older than america." "this chalice is my lifetime so far times 15 years old." "charles dickens once stood in this very spot where my feet are right now." �Queen Elizabeth the first was in the same room as this paint.� it's hard to get it, to get it in some really meaningful, awestruck way. usually it's just 'that's cool.' but sometimes, when i think about it long enough, or in a certain way, it's like, WOW.
It rained buckets here today. And we witnessed a gory, terrifying pub fight. I�ve eaten delicious pastries with layers of unfolding goodness. I�ve gone clubbing, I�ve arranged a castle-hunting expedition around the island, I�ve witnessed incredible theatrical performances. I�m probably teeming with stories, but I don�t feel like it; I don�t think of them like anecdotes to rattle off. But I will share, all in good time.
leesah-likes at 1:57 a.m.