University has Began

Throughout my life I have never slept well, I can't get to sleep and when I do, waking me up is a tricky feat. This feat is made more difficult by the "yes, I am up", which my sleeping mind manages to say without a hint of drowsiness to whoever is trying to rouse this slumbering bear. Better yet is when my mind deepens the lie by making up an activity such as putting pants on, or even watching the rain through the window. Sleep issues aside, I have actually attended a 10am and a 9am lecture this week. They we mostly introductions, which is lucky as any good book supplier clearly only ships to Lichtenstein, because the suppliers I'm using actually ship via Lichtenstein. Two lectures in and I haven't incurred the hatred of a tutor, this is progress on last year.

I'm in tomorrow at 9am again, presumably because the English department want to ready me for a lifetime of early starts and monotonous trudging through corporate England. Carrying what seems to be a popular stance, I'm actually really looking forwards to this year of university. The workload has increased, but as I did little work last year, I should be fine if I put some effort in. Hopefully the traditional demographic of "1st semester - lots of work, 2nd semester - lots of slacking" won't occur again, but then, as I've read half of one of the books on the reading list, I've already surpassed last year.

It's nice to see the familiar faces again, it's as though the last five months didn't happen, like we were all in hibernation, and now that the hub has finally been finished the rocks have been rolled away from the cave entrances and the stretching begins. It occurred to me the other day (Tuesday) that I have had the same ink cartridge in my pen for two years, which really indicates either the high quality of Parker, or the low quality of me.

My student loan has floated in, and swam straight back out; it's really beginning to sink in how much I need a job. I even questioned paying £12 for a navy t-shirt, that's how stingy I've become, it's like the Masters is anchoring down my bank balance.

I am determined to go back to the gym, it really needs to happen, as I am unfit and quite unwilling to shell out any money for a manbra, or mobra, or whatever label was deemed less emasculating to describe a support for huge man-breasts. If it was me, I'd have named it the WinBra, which is infinitely better than the WonderBra. WonderBra implies awe or reverence from the name, which seems pretentious. WinBra does what it says on the tin (or strap) and simply succeeds.

Somehow the post has descended into inane (note: I did not miss an "s" out of that word) ramblings on male support equipment, but that's always the risk you take when you blog.

Next post will be about Short stories, and finish about domestic terrorism.

Well If Everyone Else is Doing it, I might as Well Jump Too.

That's right: I'm back - a statement that implies I was here in the first place. It's september, a time for fresh starts, and new haircuts and new pencil cases, none of which I will be doing, as I'm moving into 3rd year with one decent pen and no money to terminate my shaggy mane with.

So what's new? Nope, nobody asked me that question. Nothing is new, I still want to finish my course, I still want to do a masters, but what has changed is that I now need to find £5400 to pay for rent and the masters itself. I haven't yet panicked about this, but must say right now that a quick shuffle around my cardboard box yielded no hidden fortune. It did yield spiders. Lots and lots of spiders. Oh dear God, the spiders.

There is one thing that mildly (and I use that term to sound like less of a prick) irritates me: The number of people who have decided "Hey, I don't know what I'm doing in life, why don't I do a masters so I get another year to think?" Well, that's a great attitude. I mean, some people (me, the prick) want to do a masters to further their chances of getting published (a masters in creative writing, obviously, a maths masters only increases the chance you'll kill yourself) and now the time for people to actually get a job is looming I'm finding my career path oddly busy. Not that I'm worried there will be competition to get on the masters - there wasn't last year, there were free slots - rather I'm annoyed that the second highest academic qualification is being considered because people aren't ready to finish university. Pick a real reason, please.

Moving on from what could be construed as an attack if it applies to you (don't worry, I like you, it's not about you) I still play a little poker, more for fun than an attempt to make any money, and I still procrastinate instead of writing my book. You would think the jealousy of hearing a friend has completed his own book would spur me into a competitive fervor, working day and night so I can scream "EN GARDE" in his face with a red correcting pen, and begin the arms race of who can finish proofreading first. But I haven't. My book is in my head, and whilst it's in my head it is a fine piece of literature. If I allow it a lifetime pass to paper, what if it becomes mulch, catches Syphilis, murders a hooker? I can't have that. I've been planning this book out for 5 years, and although the fine points have changed, the story is much the same.

I will write my book, just not now. For now, I'm more concerned about finishing the year on a 2:1, somehow amassing £5400, and not writing my book. I won't lie and say I'll blog more, because that implies I think somebody cares if I don't, and it also implies that I actually will, which I probably won't.

I'm at war with sleep, I won't let it take me, and it won't release me.