Serenity

It's dark in my room, and cold; the air, however, is faintly scented with clean laundry and it's delicious when you consider I had no clothes left this morning. I'm writing this slowly, because I'm deathly tired, only not sleepy just yet. I think I'm proud that I'm still here after this week. I've been falling apart, bit by bit and all at once, and I'm sick of panicking and crying and being someone I'm not usually. I reckon I'm a calm sort of person, as a general thing (others may disagree). It takes a lot to make me angry, and even more to make me stressed or worried, but I've been all three. My memories of Thursday and Friday are a prolonged, painful blur of library books and sheer visceral panic. My essay ("Where does decision-making power lie in the British executive?") is now done, if hysterically awful, a little maths is done, I'm ready for some of this week.

So, yes, this week - 2500 word essay for Politics tute at Somerville on Wednesday, maths problem sheet on algebraic and geometric sequences, also for Wednesday, and ~1500 words on Mill's concept of pleasure for Philosophy tute on Friday. Plus the usual turn of classes and lectures. I hope never have to have a week like the last one again.

The bright spot was the fact clareyperson was here over the weekend, and much fun was had by all. I haven't seen Clare in months, and it was so good to have here here; she came with me to the Balliol bonfire party yesterday night. (Balliol's connection with Guy Fawkes is person; the college owned the pub, The Catherine Wheel, where the conspirators hatched their plot, and the current site of where the pub used to be is right here, on the staircase I live in.) Sadly, our fireworks were a little dwarfed by the Catz ones. But the guy was good - he had an "I LOVE TRINITY" sign on him - and there was much merriment as he was pitched into the flames.

The Hallowe'en bop came afterwards, but it wasn't great fun; the music was rubbishy and there wasn't a decent Gordouli. It was the first time I've heard anyone sing the verses, though.

Yes, my life is terribly boring. Yesterday Clare and I went to buy milk, stopped in HMV and I found the Firefly DVD boxset for £17.99, with student discount. The best sixteen pounds I've spent recently, without a doubt; I'm working my way through, and Clare and I saw the pilot and The Train Job this afternoon. This was after a day of in-college laziness and ice-cream from G&D's, so there was some niceness in the world. I guess there may even be fannishness round these parts, if I ever get the time to watch them all.

Actually, speaking of my life being boring, Clare's being here brought several aspects of it into sharp relief. I forget - it's so easy to forget! - the small, insular bubble I live in, of old stone and college rivalries and PPE craziness, that's so far removed from everywhere else as to be another world. Clare thought the collegiate system particularly weird, that a college could be such a defining characteristic, and on one level I agree with her, but on another quite different level, I can't imagine a world without my college being the centre of my university life. It's all terribly peculiar and not something I'd given much thought to before.

I apologise for the tedious tone of this so far. I'm feeling burnt-out, like I've got nothing else to give. I spent the evening in the laundry room, in the cold, trying to read for my essay, but really staring into space in the murky basement and not able to concentrate on a word of it. The laundry got done, and so did the essay in the end, but I'm still all slow and stupid and without any real will to do anything. I guess I'd just like a day off.

I'll delete this in the morning, no doubt; it wasn't supposed to come out like this.