C.R.E.A.M.

The Cold Open

Working in a nightclub offers a rather depressing and sober insight into the desperate spirit of what I referred to in my opening post as a 'chaotic breeding ground'. Seeing the student populous intoxicated and trying to accept and deny advances in a dark and claustrophobic environment, sometimes aggressively, places me in a profoundly inspired state; one where the music, the high street fragrances of the slurring customer and the inaudible conversations merge into a primitive and naked scene, worthy of airtime on the Discovery Channel. The narrator taking the form of a constantly chest rattling beat, orchestrating the movements of females, drawing the swayed'n'delayed reactions of males. There's no doubting the destructive power of sexual frustration at this age, as you see germs in the mens room punching the walls before them and the slight glances into the ladies room as the door swings open, revealing a mirrored line-up of frantic make-up checks and dress straightening - not too much, not too little.

Apologies to the reader, this cold open does not hold an amusing or positive energy to it, although my opening post should have successfully broadcasted the purpose of this blog. Speaking of which, I must report my academic endeavours in between this post and the last. Tackling the 'Woman Question' in Victorian literature and possibly prolonging the self-inflicted wound in my own foot by refusing to use any 'quick answer' guides online as to the plot lines of my primary sources - I must read the novels myself! I find myself more inclined to read secondary or critical material, rather than the novel or poems set. This natural enthusiasm for literary theory has sparked a possible look at pursuing my academic work (I sound like I know what I am doing!) in the form of a Masters degree in Critical Theory, however it is still early days and funding is most definitely an issue.

The problem I have had with reading for a long time is the sense of time it takes to consume a novel, however my recent attempts at 'just getting on with it', has revealed a great sense of control over the book I have in front of me. Being outflanked by pages and pages of words, waiting and praying for a chapter break is no longer as daunting as it once was. They literally used to feel like mountains to climb. Issues with reading comprehension are still very much apparent; I have a great ability of reading the words and thinking about the undetected social inadequacies I managed to achieve earlier in the day - my attention span is horrendously bad at the moment. I will persist, however. Motivation has brought me into the library yet again after a somehow tiring day and money is making snacks-while-studying a very helpful tool. New headphones has allowed musical appreciation back in to my life. I am drowned out at home by my housemates and no working headphones for a couple of weeks has cut off personal time with music; journeys have been annoyingly silent, bar the squeaking of my bag, straining under the weight of all the books I am taking out of the library (yet to be read in depth).

In the spirit of positive steps in my life, I am looking in to taking up a language too, one that could cost me quite a lot of money, so perhaps a taster session is in order to see how it is and what I should learn. Spanish, italian, mandarin, japanese? These are the ones I have narrowed it down to. Mandarin is apparently the most difficult, but a career-based opportunity may come out of its arduousness. Spanish would be a fun language to learn, it sounds like it tastes good to speak, its in the top three most used languages in the world and I have family in Spain. Generic memories of comedy sketches has made italian always sound funny to me, so I must consider that too.

My frustrating career search has calmed dramatically in the last 48 hours. For some reason I got an intuitive feeling as to the nature of a rich persons life and through educated speculation, I conjured the feeling of how empty it could feel. A survey that I recently caught sight of revealed that happiness comes from money up until a certain point. Beyond that certain point (salaries around $75,000/£80,000), stress and lack of time tread on the happiness that money can create. Well, the jokes on them, because I'll never be happy! Perhaps this means money (a word which we should maybe treat with the same meaning as 'opportunity' from now on) is in my future. This 'intuition' I alluded to came in the form of a sudden glance at the bigger picture of my life and the amount of time I have left. I was placing unrealistic time boundaries on myself which carried the mission statement of 'leave university, be a millionaire'. This is quite ridiculous and doesn't serve me any good and causes unnecessary fluster.

I find abrupt endings rude, but it really is time to get back to work now.