Wednesday, 30 May 2012

A treatise on living in bed.

As the interminable horrors of exams and essays lumber thunderously into view like an academic blitzkrieg, I am reminded of a quote by the divine Douglas Adams-  "I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by." Working to a strict deadline is an archaic and bizarre fashion to me. My best work, if I may be obscure for a moment, is delivered on my own terms, not to be squeezed out of me in a single sitting. If that means I lie in bed til midday and only rise to watch Pointless on BBC 1, so be it. In fact, working in bed is a glorious luxury in itself that should be afforded to all of us. I am sure the world would be a much happier place if more tasks were be able to be accomplished from bed. In fact, some of the worlds greatest minds worked in bed, Mark Twain for instance. Work, though it may indeed make the world go round does stress one inordinately so, with dire effects for peoples moods and relationships with each other. Of course, society would indeed collapse if the entire populace lived their lives restricted to their beds, not to mention the hideous bedsores this plan being implemented would no doubt produce, but I feel this is a small price to pay in order to reap the benefits of permanent sloth.

Bloglet

It's on days like this, when I sit in my study playing records as loudly as I can tolerate with the windows open so as to inflict my musical tastes on passing pedestrians and housemates in an effort to stave off loneliness, that I realise my entire year has blended into a unidentifiable muddy-coloured blur, like what would happen when you were a child and you mixed a variety of different poster paints together (oh come on, I know you did it as well)
My university experience this year has been 90 percent of the time giant swathes of inactivity and a low throbbing depression, permeated only by infrequent slithers of blind panic when faced with actual work which is far too difficult or badly taught to even fathom and occasionally bothering to get up out of bed to check whether my Amazon order had arrived with that days post. It has been unforgivably dull and solitary. I have seen each of my own personal aspirations in what I would become after leaving the safe bosom of my home-town slowly crumble into a dirge. There is nothing to aspire to here, given I may have made the gruesome error of choosing an awfully taught course at an awfully unfriendly university in a awfully awful city. Overall what I have learnt at university is that one should not rush so quickly into higher education when one is not sure whether it is even the right or enjoyable thing to do, not to mix your drinks, plus investing in first-class postage for Amazon orders might make more sense in future.