All 7 entries tagged Brain Or Lack Thereof

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April 03, 2006


I had a worrying thought today.

It involved the words "I quite fancy doing a postgraduate certificate in policy management and if I wrote a dissertation as well as the other 15 million words worth of tedious complicated essays it entails I could even turn it into an MA now wouldn't that be nice"... in no particular order.

Good grief – was the first not bad enough?

September 08, 2005

I don't like it

Oh my god!

My Piranhas n Pigs category has gone AWOL
as has my Brain, or Lack Thereof (both literally and in the blog-category sense)

Now all I'm stuck with is BORING sociology and masculinities and BLUDDY dissertation stuff that I actually bothered to tag.

I don't like it!

update 9pm Okay I do like it. You was right. I take it all back.

August 20, 2005

Le canard qui rit

What in Diva Duck's sweet name am I doing on campus on a Saturday? Such a catastrophe has not befallen me for quite some time, with the result that I'm not sure how to deal with it.

I invited a friend to come and stay, but she's mysteriously disappeared off the face of the earth (probably because I made it sound so utterly unappealing), and in any case I should write my… I'm not even going to write that word again until the thing is actually finished and handed in.

What if I inadvertently rot (of course this would be inadvertent, stupid girl, it's not generally something that people aspire to do)? Would the ducks notice? Would they even care? This duck is laughing at my plight. Bastard.

Ooh just got invitation to go to Rugby. Now that's better. Except… where is Rugby?

August 16, 2005

Things Wot I Ave Learned In Devon

  1. Somerset is in the south-west of England not the south-east.
  2. Neither is it one of the home counties.
  3. Cheddar is in Somerset. Cheese lives here.
  4. Glastonbury is also in Somerset, not the Midlands, as one might think.
  5. Torquay is famous for Fawlty Towers. It is situated in Devon. It is not famous for its fine surf and surfers (that would be Newquay then… which is in Cornwall)
  6. Bracknell is south of Coventry, not east.
  7. My geographical knowledge is equivalent to that of a backward 3 year old child, and I should probably never have been allowed out of Yorkshire in the first place (I know Yorkshire is in the north though – 10 points to me).
  8. You can't buy wine at motorway service stations. This is terrible.
  9. It is not really the case that nature has recently become inundated by communes of lesbian ducks springing up all over the place; it is just that mallards lose their plumage (and hegemonic masculinities) out of mating season and look female.
  10. Devon is much more than a bleak depressing wind-swept expanse of moorland filled with invisible Bronze Age hut circles and bracken that needs bashing into oblivion with only a garden cane for assistance (my only previous experience of the place coming from a National Trust working holiday when I was 17).

The rest of the Devon diary (which is rather more diary-esque in character) to follow, once I have sorted out my life, general stupidity levels and masculinities chapter. I may be some time.

July 27, 2005

They put cocaine in cheerios*

Existing in a strange kind of limbo state right now. It feels like this summer will last forever, one languid day slipping slowly into the next.

I spend my weekdays desperately trying to muster enough concentration to extort the much-needed 15,000 words that will comprise my dissertation from a brain that seems disinclined to apply itself to anything much beyond musings about cheerios and trundlez. Occasionally I stare at the wall and cry. Then I feel guilty about doing and thinking nothing and cry some more.

I spend my weekends desperately trying to forget the fact that I have spent the best part of a week staring at a wall crying and being unproductive. And, for the most part, succeed.

But it's all so indeterminate – it feels transient, fleeting, not entirely real. I might float away and cease to exist and i'm not sure anyone would notice. In reality I'm sure they would and I don't mean that as an insult to anyone around me – it's more my feelings of insignificance and perceived uselessness in relation to the world.

If I cry it all starts to take on some kind of tangible shape around me, but then it all becomes so pathetic, embarrassing, monstrous even, 'as if some giant cucumber had spread itself over all the roses and carnations in the garden and choked them to death.' Virginia had the right idea with her 'vision of loneliness and riot' here.

Of course the summer and indeed this whole amorphous year will come to an end eventually, and I will probably feel sad to let it go, not to mention scared about moving to London and starting my new job.

But for now it just trundles on and I keep existing, selfishly.

*They must. Why else would I need to eat a whole packet every day? They're not even that nice.

July 18, 2005

Where is my mind?

Okay, my lit review needs writing by wednesday, as does intro, background, blah blah… and my tapes need transcribing. So why am I sitting here going la la la thinking about mushroom babies (am going to be an auntie to a mushroom, or possibly a frog – congratulations Anna you'll make a fine mother) and trying to decide what colour to paint my toenails (pale blue, silver or purple?).

What is WRONG with me? Where is my sense of urgency? Could I possibly please borrow someone else's brain for the next couple of days, preferably one that does that whole concentration thing and doesn't require 18 hours sleep a night or drip-feeding with coffee? That would be very useful. Thank you so much.

July 14, 2005

The Adventures of Mr Brain

Brain has too much time to think right now. But rather than thinking important, useful and intelligent (preferably dissertation-related) thoughts, brain has decided to short circuit and spend its days in a state of nervous paranoia convinced that nobody likes it and that the best thing it can do is to sit its owner on a bench and force her to stare inanely at a tree for several hours. Brain is getting itself in a state over nothing. Brain is referring to itself in the third person, which is also a little worrying. Brain must try harder to act normally, or alternatively, stop at home and let its owner go and have a nice weekend in London without it.

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