First day as a writing tutor…tutoring over zoom is super super weird…not being able to have real interactions sucks
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Some songs feel like you’re breaking a fundamental law just by listening to them.
Foreigner’s God— Actually, no. Literally every single Hozier song is illegal.
They’re just that good.
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outgoing mail for @dark-acagaymia !! 💌 (i have to remove the string but i wanted to keep it for pictures :’) )
0I stayed up all night to have conversations with the boy I love while listening to the soundtrack of his favourite game and I dunno about you, but I think that’s pretty sexy and homoromantic of me, so if he hasn’t swooned for me yet, it’s his loss. Just saying.
4🏛3/100 Days of Productivity🏛
03/08/2020
10am: Woke up, had a shower and got dressed. I then had some cereal because breakfast is important(!!!!). The plan is to go for a walk today seeing that I didn’t leave the house yesterday. Continuing with my psychology project today, I want to have it finished by next Monday.
2pm: I did leave the house, to go and pick up some shelves with my mum. Took me around about an hour to put them together, not that bad.
5pm: Not as academically productive as I planned but it’s better than doing nothing. We went out for a family meal and now i’m doing some scrapbooking. I think after this i’ll call it a day, do some reading or watch a film :)
08.3.2020 // I spent the morning working on updating my CV, and adding a few thoughts to my personal statement and essay for my certificate application. I am no where near done! What I know from prior programs, though, is:
- don’t wait until the last minute
- starting early gives you more time to really strengthen the “why”
- brainstorming who will be a good reference prepares you mentally1
Somehow tea has become a really important part of my day.
(And I love this mug!)
Photo by me.
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My first thought after reading “The song of Achilles”
Now I wanna read it from Achilles’ perspective
2“If someone mentions the Cottages today, I think of easy-going days drifting in and out of each other’s rooms, the languid way the afternoon would fold into evening then into night. I think of my pile of old paperbacks, their pages gone wobbly, like they’d once belonged to the sea. I think about how I read them, lying on my front in the grass on warm afternoons, my hair - which I was growing long then - always falling across my vision. I think about the morning waking up in my room at the top of the Black Barn to the voices of students outside in the field, arguing about poetry or philosophy; or the long winters, the breakfasts in steamed-up kitchens, meandering discussions around the table about Kafka or Picasso. But the again, when I think about it, there’s a sense in which that picture of us on that first day, huddled together in front of the farmhouse, isn’t so incongruous after all. Because maybe, in a way, we didn’t leave it behind nearly as much as we might once have thought. Because somewhere underneath, a part of us stayed like that: fearful of the world around us, and - no matter how much we despised ourselves for it - unable quite to let each other go.” ― Kazuo Ishiguro, Never Let Me Go
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