When the day allows it, I get several minutes which I try to fill by reflecting on my life as it appears now. Often I’m walking South across Waterloo Bridge, with the striking faces of the National Theatre and Southbank Centre and the London Eye all facing me. The former two are the ones which make me dream about sitting by a window at 9am with a nice hot chocolate, pen in hand and my diary, ready to reflect on my life in full. Adequately, sufficiently, satisfyingly – whatever the right word is.
Twice in the last month I’ve gone to bed at 20:30 or 21:30 and woken up at 2:30AM or 3:30AM. It feels quite nice being wide awake making food for later in the day when the whole house is silent. Maybe I’ll encounter the mouse that so kindly leaves droppings in our cabinets? I never actually do any reading though. I seem to just be writing emails and stuff.
You know, maybe I’m just not born to play fingered octaves. Firstly, How can you stretch the distance of 7 with fingers of a distance of 2? That’s theoretically impossible.
I’m trying everything okay: slow practice, holding my hand in that particular position, rhythms, breathings, kinesthesia – WHY IS THE BODY SO STUBBORN. Okay, it’s okay, I have over a fortnight to work on it before I have to perform it. Oh hell, I have to perform them. Oh-ho-ho no.
Oh man, I just LOVE Thursday nights. Because tomorrow it’s…
Left all my tut work too – late
Everybody can only catch up on – the – week – end
Law took up my whole Wednes-day
If only I could go out with my friends now? BUT:
Pro-per-ty, Pro-per-ty, NO!
Law and So-cial Theo-ry, NO!
Tort, Trusts, Tort, Trusts
Have you read those judgments, yo?
Vive la 2nd Year Law Fridays…
When I was seven I played in the National Children’s Orchestra of Great Britain. I remember seeing on the 3rd page of every concert programme a black-and-white photograph of a man with brilliantly bright eyes, shimmering curly hair of the kind that one would dream of achieving after a perm, and a smile that would warm a lifetime of music.
That man is going to be standing on the podium beside me next week as I lead the Young Orchestra For London.
What. The. Fuck.
Law and Social Theory class has taught me a lot about bad behaviour, the after effects of bad behaviour and the inescapable reality that is curator of our lives.
I saw colonialism in a new light after we studied it in the context of hegemony. How dare the British appropriate Indian traditions, customs and deities to fulfil their own hedonistic, capitalist goals!
The class has taught me a lot about inequality, opportunity and morality; the content of power, cultural capital. Maybe one day I’ll have the nerve to write something on a related topic. I’m not very good at talking about politics.
I have no idea who should run the country next election. But I think we need a fresh face who hasn’t got a reputation of destroying the country, so maybe Labour for now.
I’m getting rather deft at Photoshop and general techie stuff. I feel very cool when I make things on a computer.
In hindsight, I do love Friday evenings, because I spend them with the best teachers I’ve ever had in Law School. There is Mr C who teaches me Trusts and Property, and Mr B who teaches me Tort.
Mr C, forgive me for inquiring, but I do often wonder about your hair, or rather, lack of hair. Or rather, your baldness. Do you polish your head? Because your crown looks like a moonstone. You do keep an impressively neat beard, may I add. I also wonder what you do in your spare time. You cycle, I can see that, but Mr C I have a strong suspicion that you also own a motorcycle. I hate missing your classes because you speak the law like a poet. How can you make Trusts law sound simple and elegant? How? You do make us feel bad for not reading the judgments. I’m sometimes a bit scared. I wonder where you come from, because I cannot identify your accent. It’s English, but there’s a laziness in the tongue, which makes your Ls sometimes sound like Ws.
Under my assumption, you probably do a less elegant activity in your spare time. No, you’re not really a ballroom-dancing-yoga type. But you do like quirky sweatshirts with grungy illustrations and you wear jeans and sweatpants to class and top it all off with a pair of skaters’ trainers. I want to write more about your character because I want to work it out.
Mr B, I think it’s insanely awesome that you were Captain of your University Challenge Team not so long ago. You studied at Oxford, Cambridge AND Harvard. You are very pleasant and kind and patient. You are not egotistic, nor are you frustrated. How can this be!
Last night Mr B, you made sure we understood Tort Causation by holding our hands, as we dived through Wilsher, Fairchild and Cool v Lewis, even after the minute hand took 15 steps too far. You are cool. Your flatmate owns a bowtie business.
I think the only reason why I might ever get a good mark in Tort is because of you. I am going to buy you a present after the year.
I will buy a present for you too, Mr C.
Neither Mr C or Mr B ever utter a word which feels misplaced and undesirable in a sentence. How can you do that. Teach me how.
You are cool. And I love it.