The fire burn the beauty in their eyes

I will not launch into a tirade regarding Torchwood.
I will not launch into a tirade regarding Torchwood.
I will not launch into a tirade regarding Torchwood.

*nervous twitches*

This is so one of my pet peeves, but no. No, no, we shall resist and not get caught up in things that do not directly concern us.

Apparantly I've gone royal overnight, and that's why I'm refering to myself in the first person plural there.

I am soooo tired. I need to stay up until all hours for no real reason. I should also be doing uni work. Siiiiigh. I still feel completely out of my depth, I just sit there staring blankly back at people and trying hard not to yawn.

I need to get Proust to read/study/pretend to do both. Not all of it, thankfully, since my lecturer is under the impression it would takes months of doing nothing but read 'A la recherche du temps perdu' in order to actually finish it. The way I understand it, it's over three thousand words. But my copy of LOTR is 1112 (incl. appendices) and if I could read that in a week, surely that means you could theoretically read all of it, in a month? Maybe not understand it all, but read it surely. But anyway. All this type of thing does is make me wish I could read French so I don't have to worry about stupid things like "which translation did you get?" and "the title has many Enlgish derivations..."

To go all old fashioned, sometimes I just really wish we could call a spade, a spade.

I'm taking to championing the post-modern cause of the power of the individual and subjectivity. Nothing can ever be wrong! There is no spoon, I mean truth, I mean self, I mean identity. JHC. I sometimes wonder if anyone knows what the hell is going on.

What I never understand about academics, and things like this in general, is why exactly these people were chosen to be studied? I mean they don't know what they're on about, they're just chucking theories out there and trying to make sense of them. Why are these particular ones then picked up and considered fit for study? It's like...you go to the art gallery and there's a white canvas with a blue square painted in the middle of it. That's it. Why is that considered art, fit to hang in the NSW art gallery, but if I did that, it wouldn't even be blinked at. Is it merely about being original, getting there first? How is this distinction drawn between who is fit to be studied and who isn't? And hell, who has the right to make that distinction? I don't know. I'm just rambling. Maybe it's popular consensus, the more people study a theory, the more it's considered...canon, for lack of a better word. But then, I don't get a choice in the theory I studied. I mean sure, I have the option of going out there and finding out theory and what have you, but we were very much handed Baudrillard, Derrida, Bachelard, Barthes etc. It's a given that these are your key theorists for your studies here. But why them? Who decided way back when that they were worthy of study? I'm not saying they're not, I just think they can't be the only ones out there during the time.

I'm going to stop now cause I fear I'm talking in circles and I don't really know what I'm trying to say.

My hand is all sore and swollen after I took a little time yesterday to get better acqainted with the ground. I'm vertically challenged, what can I say. Actually, that doesn't really bode well when considering my latest shoe-acquisitions, does it?

Manchester Orchestra remind me a bit of Brand New. Devil and God era, but that might just be the imagery being employed.

Oh, oh! Found out at work today we're going to be closing for an Easter break. So I'll be off from the 10th until the 27th. My mid-semester break is for the same time, so that means I will be off from all major responsibilities while Abbi's here. Woohoo! Although I resolve we will actually venture outside and not just sit on the couch being fangirls...fun as that is.

Right. Shower then tea, methinks. I smell like some overbearing Yves Saint Laurent fragrance I was inadvertnetly doused with at mum's work this afternoon. It's giving me a headache.

Music: I can barely breathe - Manchester Orchestra
Mood: Dirty