The highs and lows from the previous week. Another one of those random, unstructured, blog posts, for which there isn’t a particular purpose other than to exercise creative writing skills and escape from present life.
- Hello Jacob!
We ate a pint of sausage rolls and snooped around a second hand book sale by Southbank.
- Good news!
I’ve been chosen to lead the King’s College London Symphony Orchestra this year, argh! The phone call from the conductor sure brightened my dull evening.
This term we are playing Tchaikovsky Symphony No 5, and next term it’s Scheherazade by Rimsky-Korsakov, in which there is quite a big violin solo. Yikes.
- Listening to music made me cry
I’m not usually one to weep along to music. Even in extremely moving live performances it’s rare for me to be pushed beyond the emotional threshold. After memorable concerts I am likely to be profoundly inspired by the artists, or sunk into a state of oblivion. And hearing pieces I’ve performed myself, especially in an orchestra with friends, always causes my skin to feel a little more sensitive, as the goosebumps shiver to the surface and come in contact with the fibres of my sleeves. Somehow the voice and music of a woman called Carole King coaxed out all the negative feelings in my brain.
She made me cry, and smile, a lot.
Then of course I saw that BBC had finally uploaded a video of NYO performing Vaughan-Williams Towards the Unknown Region, and burst into tears again.
Hilarious, emotional wreck.
- This week I’ve been tackling my first law essay, which has turned out to be an absolute failure.
My work shouldn’t even be classed as discursive writing. It falls under a category unknown in any academic field called Read Everything And Type It Out. The essay is completely hopeless; a ten year old could have constructed a more convincing and eloquent piece. I have attempted to create a structure with subheadings, but the bold typeface just looks like a mere effort to cover up and refine my pathetic attempt at legal lingo. I read and read and read as much the brain could cope to find supporting and opposing arguments. Afterwards however I was left with what seemed like two piles of overcooked, bland, lifeless noodles.
I decided after many hours of sitting and staring blankly at the laptop screen that any more time and effort spent on this essay would not benefit me or my writing whatsoever. If I didn’t have a clue what to do, then so be it. I am going to submit this ‘essay’ – I’d rather call it a piece of used toilet roll – to my tutor, listen to her unhelpful advice and get on with life. It will probably fail, but at least I will understand how to improve. After all, accepting failure makes you more resilient and persistent. I’m hoping to gain some grit.
To be frank, a few of the lecturers frustrate me. They have been very harsh to throw us an essay when the majority, like me, are still struggling to settle into university life…
My flatmate and I forged through the night with our assignment. She boiled broccoli to eat as a midnight snack. Last night I boiled peas and sweetcorn. We should be featured in documentaries about student life in London.
It’s time to face another week.