A streetcar called 'growing old' ?

I should be making a big deal out of it. Turning 30. I fear it's rather underwhelming. I've kept up the pretence of adulthood for so long now. Another year isn't going to make a difference to me.

Writing Frenzy

Tonight's the night.

And I might gonna make it happen. It'll just take a little longer than one night. But one second past midnight is the beginning of National Novel Writing Month. As you will read on the official website : 30 days, 50,000 words! One month, one novel.

All previous attempts of mine have indeed reached the 50K mark but to call them novels would be rather .... well: wrong. This year I promise to do better.  And if life doesn't interrupt me too often, I will even promise to keep you up to date.

 

Quote #8

September tries its best to have us forget summer.

Bern Williams

September

Finally my favourite month has commenced (I love use the word commenced, sound so much more educated than 'started'). That is good news because A] in mere hours I will no longer be responsible for the watering of plants, cleaning of floors, emptying of mailbox and feeding of chickens, a pig, a guinee pig, two cats, a pondful of goldfish and a younger sister (the latter especialy is prone to complain about quality and quantity of the dish provided), in mere hours my parents will be back from a weeklong trip to the heart of Germany (the geographical heart that is), God knows what they were looking for there. B] The day my paycheck arrives draws near. C] It's my birthday soon.

And best of all D] Autumn is on it's way. I love autumn.

A dinner date and more unfortunate decisions

The first miserable exam, and what do I do?! Not study harder, not stay at home and pre intensive study read the summery I was so generously provided with by my dinner guest, not be sensible and get to bed early, not get him out of my head, oh no. I cooked my star recipe* for my favourite sister, we drank wine, we went to a café, we were interrupted in our man bashing and beer drinking by a not unattractive young man with a knowledge of Classic Chinese poetry, we went to another café and were joined at our table by a friend of a friend and his friend, we waved and kissed goodbye wishing each other luck and I spent another hour or so reorganising my music library before being to tired for anything but sleep. Nonetheless I woke before midday, ate properly, studied as may be expected from a diligent student, worked on my novel** , wrote mails, drank tea, posted a recipe on this blog as promised and I still feel energetic. A good thing that I have yet to do my exercises or I might be in mood swing inspiring hallucination energy high; And believe me you don't want to see me in such a state, if you want to see me at all.

* Cauliflower Curry; click here for a dutch recipe
** 'working on' here meaning deleting two chapters and starting anew on chapter c

Stumble Check

Inevitably the posts on this blog have been few lately. I realise it and feel inclined to apologise to whosoever checks my blog daily for recreational purposes, please realise that I fully sympathise and know what you are going through. I too have exams. but there's the knack; exams cause such a wave of creative energy that I simply cannot ignore the call of working on the novels I started so long ago and it leaves me little time to fill this on-line journal with my self loathing and witty comments on the stupidity of men, I have now another forum for that.

However I have not forgotten you. Recently I have stumbled upon this page, and if you're bored for three seconds, check it out.

Bored of all Things

The sixth month of the year rapidly approaches and so for all students the time of seclusion draws near. No more surprise visits to friends that live nearby, no more film marathons, no more idle bantering on benching along rivers while sipping tea or wine or port, no more informal dinner parties, no more of anything until the seventh month has begun. I've barely started waking up early, and making notes on a compulsory read or already I am bored. Not so much with the subject of my study for the geopolitics of Central Asia are indeed interesting enough to deserve my attention but with the whole idea of having to go through this period again. Usually I'm company enough for myself but when there is absolutely nobody around all the regular hobbies are stupid too, which regrettably* doesn't stop me from doing them.

* Even less time in a day to get things studied.

Sipping Tea

I just spend the most pleasurable hour of the day in the company of a friend and a thermos of tea on 'our' bench along a river/canal called Coupure in my favourite town but one. Life tastes good if there's Rose hip-Chewing gum tea in your flask.

Social life

I wonder if anybody else ever noticed a significant increase in social obligations at times when absolute quiet and 26h days would be the better option in terms of getting some work done?

Not that I mind being invited to birthday dinners and D&D sessions, I don't mind eating at student restrooms if it means seeing a friend that I would otherwise not see for weeks, I very much enjoy evenings at the cinema and even more so when I'm accompanied by people I'm fond of but nonetheless I have complaints, why can none of this happen when actually have time for it?

Kvraagetaan

There is a man who I hold in high regard (though not the highest for the mud pool of my affection has a strict, very strict hierarchy) who has today by the mere act of blogging caused me to carry to the grave my lifelong antipathy for bands singing in a dialect from the wrong side of Ghent.

And because I must have an opinion: it is mostly about one song. The title would be 'kvraagetaan'. And I have no means whatsoever to translate or even try to explain what this means. Basically it means asking someone you like to start of a relationship. I have little inside info to give on the subject as my only involvement ever consists of saying 'no' twice after which time nobody bothered asking. Back to the song concerned: Melancholy and more melancholy, a sequence of memories (some barely ten years old) and the lament of going back to the time where everything was as simple as ' kvraagetaan'. Any deeper meaning and nuance is lost on me quite possibly because the language sung is not my native tongue.