Apr. 28th, 2010

dark_litany: (Cat Run Out of Happy :()
And we're at a week and a half till D-Day, aka essay hand-in time. I really should start all this crap sooner but I can never find the motivation. Even at the moment I only seem to have motivation for my Shakespeare essay. I guess it's cause he's easier to write about - you've got tonnes of secondary criticism to refer to, his writing is chock-a-block with symbolism and he's crazy on the theme front. So crazy I've actually foregone the usual gender question for one on gods and morality, which is a pretty big deal for me - I usually fall back on gender because you're always harping on about the same crap (phallic imagery blah blah blah, masculine anxieties regarding female figures of power blah blah blah) and you can bullshit it into any ol' guise. But, nope, this time I'm going to bring some Machiavelli and some epistemology to the table.

All this means I've delved back into my library habits - packing up my Norton, grabbing dinner and then making my way to the library till it closes. Seeing as it's essay and exam time, the short loan section stays busy even until the bell rings for us all to scram - I guess everyone is feeling the pressure. I just about killed myself on the way home, carrying all these musty books back with me - forgot my cloth-bag, so had to do a Mary Poppins and attempt to get as many books as possible in my satchel and then stagger back with the rest in my arms (which wasn't very successful, as they were some bloody fat books). Lucky for me I practically live across the road from the library!

I love being in the library, though: the sense of quiet learning, the old smell that wafts off the stacks, the funny surreptitious feeling you get when people flit between the aisles. I had to squat in the Shakespeare section (and what a section! It took me twenty minutes to skim through all the titles!) and delve through it, trying to find anything pertaining to religion. Most of the books were written in the 1950s, and some of them were suspiciously brown and gunky. Still, critical essays always help to jolt my brain into gear, get ideas simmering up there, so I have a certain stretch of accomplishment at the end of it all. Next week, and the week after, I'll have to crank things up to the next level and probably get down to the library after breakfast, stay for the whole day and maybe bring my laptop to get some writing done.

Chose my modules, too, today - I went for Hitchcock in the end, over Literature into Film. I'm thinking I can just audit the latter. Besides, Louisa will be in Hitchcock and she says Neil is an amazing lecturer, so I'm expecting good things. Though, I took the plunge and also put down Magical Realism, even though it's taught by the dreaded Becky Munford, urgh.

Also, I had a completely disturbing dream last night (I blame weird dreams on sleeping too much) about a man-eating pigeon. It went around gobbling strips of flesh off my legs while I tried to get away from it. Now, I like birds, I'm even a bit of a twitcher, so it's not like I have an irrational fear of pigeons or anything. I guess it sprung out of a text I got from mama while in the library, talking about how she was watching Woody Woodpigeon and his girlfriend snuggle up. How it went from that to some sort of bird of Satan, I do not know.

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