1.30am wank: ignorable.
Apr. 16th, 2006 01:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sebastienneThis week's major events are mostly marked out across my body in bruises.
My work ethic before I went away was good; every weekday in the library, concentrating as hard as I could, between 2 and 5 hours EVERY weekday. At home, my work ethic suffered; seeing myself differently in London mirrors caused me to spend time moping, sewing, learning lines, doing things that made me feel like I was living rather than killing time.
This mindset has endured since my return to Oxford; but Oxford offers rather more opportunities for living. As such, my revision total for the last four days can't be more than 4 hours. I have done so many amazing things that I begin to realise my autobiography will have to come in volumes, but that it almost certainly will not have a chapter on my receiving my amazing first-class degree from Oxford.
Today is a perfect example: awake at half eight, costuming and killing time until LARP at 11. Played an amazing game, felt for the first time like I knew what my character was doing rather than what I wanted her to do. Perhaps in objective terms I didn't do anything special but for myself I know I did. Was attacked by brambles and trees and people wielding swords taller than me. (Leather corsets are fine to wear to represent light armour, until one needs lung capacity to run away.) And then there was chinese and chocolate and Dr Whos both new and old, until it was clear that I was falling asleep on the floor and needed to go home.
To recap: up at 8.30, home at 1.30. That's fifteen hours spent in non-stop geeking. And it makes me happy, makes me feel like I am living instead of just existing, it gives me visions of a future I could never see before... but it doesn't get any revision done.
The most telling thing? Despite all this angst about not having done enough work (because I haven't, I really know nothing, and this exam will be filled with opinionated unsubstantiated bullshit), I cannot bring myself to care. Every evening this week I have fallen asleep with a grin on my face, not a grimace, and that - however short-sighted it may be - is all that seems real.
My work ethic before I went away was good; every weekday in the library, concentrating as hard as I could, between 2 and 5 hours EVERY weekday. At home, my work ethic suffered; seeing myself differently in London mirrors caused me to spend time moping, sewing, learning lines, doing things that made me feel like I was living rather than killing time.
This mindset has endured since my return to Oxford; but Oxford offers rather more opportunities for living. As such, my revision total for the last four days can't be more than 4 hours. I have done so many amazing things that I begin to realise my autobiography will have to come in volumes, but that it almost certainly will not have a chapter on my receiving my amazing first-class degree from Oxford.
Today is a perfect example: awake at half eight, costuming and killing time until LARP at 11. Played an amazing game, felt for the first time like I knew what my character was doing rather than what I wanted her to do. Perhaps in objective terms I didn't do anything special but for myself I know I did. Was attacked by brambles and trees and people wielding swords taller than me. (Leather corsets are fine to wear to represent light armour, until one needs lung capacity to run away.) And then there was chinese and chocolate and Dr Whos both new and old, until it was clear that I was falling asleep on the floor and needed to go home.
To recap: up at 8.30, home at 1.30. That's fifteen hours spent in non-stop geeking. And it makes me happy, makes me feel like I am living instead of just existing, it gives me visions of a future I could never see before... but it doesn't get any revision done.
The most telling thing? Despite all this angst about not having done enough work (because I haven't, I really know nothing, and this exam will be filled with opinionated unsubstantiated bullshit), I cannot bring myself to care. Every evening this week I have fallen asleep with a grin on my face, not a grimace, and that - however short-sighted it may be - is all that seems real.
