I want to learn how to play bass guitar. I’ve decided this while listening to some of my favourite songs and realising that most of my favourite songs are that way because of a clever turn of phrase or a wonderful word. (ie: ‘dressed in white noise’, ‘it’s been a thousand years since I was dazed’…)I really am a word freak. Or maybe just a freak because those two things got linked in my head: I like wierd words in songs so therefore I want to play base guitar. (and on top of that, this is while I’m working on my research essay outline – how on earth did I get from feminism in 19th century America to base guitar? Trust me, it was perfectly logical at the time.)
Said research outline is proving to be quite the bitch. (why DO Hawthorne’s female characters always end up dead?is he just a necrophiliac or what?? Are tehy easier to understand that way? You see what I mean.) I’ve never been really all that good at organising my thoughts and taking notes for this kind of paper. I feel distinctly disorganised.The problem is, the idea is in my head, fully formed, but when I try to put it on paper or into text it falls flat. I don’t have the words yet to make it make sense. I’m hoping that if I sleep on it it will come together when I sit down to it tomorrow after class. At least I have the framework. And at least this is the outline rather than the actual paper.
Argh… I still want to know how I managed to end up with THREE presentations this year. I hate presentations. I hate getting up in front of people and having to talk. It’s not even that I’m embarassed, it’s just that I don’t like being the centre of attention.
Word of advice to anyone who’s entering into University for the first time. Don’t. Take. Five. Classes. At least not in the same semester. It’s insane.
I’ve been watching a bit of the election campaigns for the US on TV.. I realy don’t get smear campaigns. Doesn’t it just prove that the opposition doesn’t trust their own platform enough on its own? To me it does nothing to instill confidence in the party that’s doing the smear. Stupid. But then so many things are, including the current president. Don’t think I have much faith in the other major contender either.
Sounds like we’re moving into a one-bedroom in this building this next month. Lower rent. Second floor. Nice carpets, as opposed to the absolute shit we have right now masquerading as carpet. Better light too, I’m still a little leary about it being right above the main entrance, but we shall see. At least we won’t have the stairs just outside the bedroom. There’s someone in the building that does some ‘business’ all night, so I hear that outside door opening and closing several times during the night. Rita’s going to move into this one, with her son’s girlfriend. Not looking forward to having to phone all the bill people to change my address. *cough*
Bah, I hope I sleep tonight, speaking of sleep. Three hours is so not enough for my brain. Especially when the alternative is me lying awake all night worrying about shit, or doing something like lucid dreaming. Even though that is useful for fiction and poetry, it does nothing for my regenerative process.
Wish me luck. I’m off to bed.