i need some inspiration
prof said my proposal has some nice observations but is overall haphazard. im disappointed in myself. i need some new ideas to work on, but it is not happening. i have since given him two proposals on two different texts, both of which he has given the same comment: ‘you are making good observations, but, so what? what can you do about it?’
indeed. so what?
bah.
tally-ho!
looks like mobile blogging’s not for me. two ghosts of posts, including my entry on sophie kinsella’s twenties girl, that makes me quite sad. twenties girl was a good read, so much better than shopaholic and baby thank goodness. very funny, very uplifting, very girl-power. read it within a couple of hours, and can’t stop thinking about it. im thankful for my holiday read, it recharged me somewhat. of course, it’s not as near perfection as the shadow of the wind (that is still my top recommendation for anyone), some bits were just dreary like when everything just goes wrong for lara (a recipe for all kinsella’s books it seems), but the end was, ahh. a ghost story with a difference!
on the other hand, i flipped through the third installment of the tunnels series: freefall (after tunnels, deeper), and i must say, it got from bad to worse! you would think, after writing two tomes the authors would get better at it, but it seems they got complacent instead. in the hands of a good author (think rowling) i think the three fat books could be condensed into one fast-paced action-packed thriller which would totally blast readers off their seats. i do think the story is very cool, but character development and writing-wise…well perhaps i’ve been pampered by the masters so they really suck. really.
i can’t stop thinking about twenties girl and sadie lancaster now! can’t wait for the movie, if there’s one.
the memory palace
came across the memory palace by christie dickason while rearranging my book cabinet, and i paused to read again the most memorable, and poignant scene in the work. philip wentworth, an aging sojourner, married a pregnant zeal to save her from condemnation. zeal was still very much in love with the exiled man, the father of the unborn child, but philip took her in. the love between them grew as they began to know each other more. the night that zeal could tell philip that she loved him, and say it truthfully, was the night that philip died.
the story itself was not impressive, but that particular scene is tender and touching. i think particularly of amos. our age difference is not as vast as the fictional philip and zeal, but amos is a fair bit older, with white hair, with a lot of medical conditions i wish he didn’t have. i live in the morbid fear that i will have to outlive him, and consequently i have rather hoped that we could perhaps die together in a freak accident of some sort, else i’d be selfish and hope to leave him behind. or perhaps if he leaves me then i will waste away and die of grief within the week. (thinking about it i think the dr might put the cause of death as overeating).
will need to stop being morbid.
i think i have got an infected eye. it is red, itchy and irritating, and i keep tearing. i’ve been tearing since sunday. it is not pleasant at all, i think i shall have to go to a doctor. gah!
the best of suicides
‘Roman writer Petronius Arbiter…fell out of the emperor [Nero's] favour. To forestall arrest and execution, he took his own life in an appropriately tasteful fashion, slitting his veins and then having them bound up again to ensure a slow and easeful death. As his life gradually drained away, he pecked at dainty dishes, listened to music, and chatted with friends on untroubling subjects. He finally lay down as if to sleep, and so met his end.’
-from Ian Crofton’s History Without The Boring Bits
what a way to die! it is an inspiration beyond no other. how poetic and laudable.
reading pg wodehouse
i used to laugh out loud at the antics of bertie wooster, but this time around i feel only mildly entertained. have i, along the years, lost my ability to laugh? not even very long years, at that, how pathetic. i feel like reading a murder mystery…if it doesn’t rain later i should probably nip by the library for a poirot.
