Writing an essay about the importance of fantasy and escapism in Muriel's Wedding is quite fun, as essay writing goes. Unfortunately, I still lack motivation and find myself getting distracted by almost anything. Eating hummus from the tub with a spoon, for example. Just now it was taking a little series of photos documenting the essay writing process, my room, and perhaps my life.
This is the work I'm attempting to power through. The pretty patterns and bright colours are meant to motivate me. This doesn't seem to be working. Also my pasty leg snuck into the shot. Hi leg.
This is the big daddy of books. It cost me a drink-spluttering amount of money (for a book, anyway) and I have had to use it, oh, four or five times in the three years I've been at university. It's always nice to know I have many great and classic works of literature all in here at my disposal, if I can ever be bothered to read them. (Right now, I can imagine this slump stretching out for the rest of my life.) In this book is Paradise Lost. Hefty in itself. Tomorrow I will go through it with a fine tooth comb and pick out useful quotes about hierarchy. Then I will write 3500 words. Tomorrow. Yes.
I make it sound as though I don't enjoy reading - and I do. A lot. It is, of course, the reason I chose a degree in English, and is part of the reason I enjoy writing. Some of my disdain and despair with the 8500 words of collective essay I am slogging through is because I just want them out of my way so I can - what? See my boyfriend for the first time since last year? He's OK, I guess, but... What? So I can go on holiday? Well that'll be nice and all, but... It's so I can start reading this bloody book! I have love love loved David Mitchell's other four novels, and I might even go as far to say that he is my fave, but I still haven't managed to read past the second chapter of this. I'm very excited about it but it seems a bit heavy, and so might require complete concentration, which I just can't give it right now. After my final deadline, though, I'll be all over this baby like a rash.
My boredom drove me to taking a wander round my room, and oh, what is this stripy thing poking from a box?
It's my tiger cape, of course! Two scraps of unwanted material from a haberdashery, stapled together, become A TIGER CAPE. Best money I ever spent. Along with a tiger mask that appeared in my possession after a very drunken night, and some leggings with a cut up t-shirt superglued onto them (I'm not very crafty, all being said) I was transformed into a tiger for a weekend of camping for a friend's 21st.
This is a guessing game.What is this thing, covered in other things? What are the things? What in god's name is this?! Jokes. This is actually to show off my own brand of organisation - coats, scarves, cardigans and bags are all draped over my door. It means I don't have to find other places to keep them. And I kind of like all the colours and prints together.
My drawers just started VOMITING CLOTHES!? What the hell is going on? Has this ever happened to anyone else?!
OK, so. I won't lie and say that clutter doesn't just appear everywhere I am. It does. These pictures are of my room at home (my parent's house) where the clutter unfortunately seems to be terminal, due to just too much stuff and just not enough space. My room at uni (where I live with friends) tends to be fairly tidy during the week and then at the mere hint of the weekend, it all blows up. I mean, I'm out of the room and I come back to find everything in a state of disarray! (That's also a lie.)
Two essential tools for surviving a bitter English winter: furry slipper socks, and a space heater. Pasty legs come with the whole 'bitter English winter' thing. That and I'm just quite pale naturally. Ignore the marks on my legs, I have a little collection of scars on my legs and feet from various misdemeanours. I have one on each foot from other people's heels - one from a girl in dirty great stilettos while watching a band, another from a friend presumably stumbling over my foot in heels on the way home. I'm like a work of art, me. Or a patchwork quilt.
Now this picture is to illustrate the lengths I have been driven to by essay mania. (Like cabin fever, except I could leave the house if I wanted to, it's just that it's cold out there... and I have essays to write.) I have created a pile of magazines on the floor for when I can no longer sit cross legged on my bed typing away (working at a desk is strangely difficult for me) and have to escape to a little solace on the floor, and flick through these magazines.
Maybe I do have cabin fever.
Last and perhaps least, here is a (quite terrifying) picture of me. I'm not fit for human eyes right now so I decided to pose with my most amazing Christmas present, a masquerade mask! However now I look at this photo it's kind of creepy. Who knew there was such torment in my eyes? I certainly did not.
Now I'm going to watch Tool Academy, possibly be physically sick from the cringiness of it, cry because it will make me hate men, and sleep.
x
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