I always feel weird doing a Currently when I haven’t been posting much in a month, but they’re good ways to vent, and I’ve had a tough week.
I’m playing through ME3 again and goddamnit this game was a fucking masterpiece. Yeah, yeah, there was always the drama about the ending, but that drama existed because this game was otherwise so damn good that the ending was such a let-down.
Still Zone One. Also the Confuscian Analects, which aren’t all that interesting because they’re a bit disconnected from one another. I’ve had some big essays due this month, so I’ve mostly been reading articles and primary sources. Those are interesting, but they also leave your brain feeling like sauerkraut. I swear I fucked up the last essay and I’m in Miseryville over it right now. I’ve also been reading Chinese women’s poetry circa 1600-1800 and it’s absolutely beautiful stuff. I imagine it loses something in the translation but even so.
Jack Taylor, which I re-watched in one entertaining night involving a little too much absinthe. A bunch of Player Unknown’s Battlegrounds streams, too. That game is too damn entertaining to watch people suck at.
I’ve been a mess this week. I’m stupid anxious about my second essay, which I feel like I fucked up. I was working long-ass days to get it done and once I handed it in I ended up with a stress headache. I don’t think I’ve been taking very good care of myself. I need to get some more exercise, and really make time for important stuff that isn’t university work. I’m driving myself into the ground – it really makes me wonder how people manage this shit full time. How did I do it back in the day? I somehow spent all my time fucking around. Although now I reflect on it, I do seem to recall developing a physical twitch under one eye when writing my dissertation. Everyone in my psych honours class lost their minds.
I hammered out a poem a while ago and I took another look at it tonight. I polished it a little, but it’s not ready for here yet. I did post a draft over at my tumblr, which is where this sort of shit ends up. Yeah, it needs work. It doesn’t have an ending. But it’s getting there. A couple more drafts and it might be ready.
Right now I’m just fixated on the next damn assignment. I was meant to spend the last two weeks catching up on my readings. Ha! Meanwhile there’s a test and an essay due halfway through May, another essay due a week after that, and then another test. Come June I’m going to go into a coma or something, I’m exhausted just thinking about it. The stress is getting to me and I’m not dealing with it well.
Come Tuesday I’m going to meet a friend and we’re going to get some fucking cocktails. I need ’em.
The days were longer. That I had more time. That I could just read and write and play video games all day, every day. My whole life would be stories. I’d have a studio in the city where I’d go to work a few days a week, just to get out of the house. I’d go to poetry readings and jazz nights and keep a bottle of rum in my bottom drawer, and invite people up afterwards for a drink and a chat.
Making me happy
Sleep! Cuddles with the doggo. Looking back over the month, it’s mostly been homework, exhaustion, and video games. I keep running myself into the ground and must reflect on the simple things I’ve been enjoying and making the time to appreciate them.