cross your fingers

I’ve been writing writing writing. Supposedly essays, but I just looked and I’ve written about ten pages, and only one of them is constructive towards my formal education. I’m listening to Jonny Cash. It was Laura Marling all day and then suddenly I felt the urge for the beginning of his cover of ‘The Man Comes Around’ and then suddenly I was in a full on splurge of him. Or at least, his covers, ‘American IV’ cd. I know his actual songs too well to listen to them anymore, so I’m exploring this stuff. For about the billionth time.

So what was all that writing about?

It’d be pointless to write it all out again on here. Some of it sprung from this comment in my geography book about whether a life without conflict is possible or even desirable, as conflict might bring about progress and development. I was like, wow, unspecific. Which shouldn’t have been my reaction seeing how it was in a geography textbook under the heading of conflict in development or something. Anyway, it got me thinking about whether people make trouble for themselves or whether problems are something which happens at or onto someone. And how people try to escape or work out conflicts, which in the end might be a positive thing because they develop as a person because of it. Maybe. Or something. I guess it’s all that swearing on Friday night; it’s got into my head. I’m all resolutions and stuff.

I then read this quote when I attempted to plan an essay for English lit. The quote, if anyone’s interested, was ‘words are unreliable ciphers in relation to things and can as easily be twisted into nonsense as they can be used to create meaning’. Half way through the first word (yes, ‘words’), my brain changed it to be about me. Egocentric much? Not entirely flattering of my brain, too. I wrote a load about that. But to return to the quote, I kind of like it. I’m always finding new ways of expressing why I love words, and here’s one. I can hide in them like in that movie The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus. Which I didn’t particularly like as a movie but which was amazing as an idea.

I then drew a picture of me laughing and crying in a corner because Alice’s description of how I spend my time at school got into my head. Fool. I don’t do that. Much. All the time. Often.

Is it odd to wonder what you would do if [specific person of your choosing] died?

Then I got water in my eyes (actually water, my sister kind of decided that I was in fact a small, dried up plant which needed urgent watering) and I ended up in a small damp heap.

Which resulted in random phrases (as all good things do), such as ‘we crumpled petals so that we could touch the stars.’

Today’s song – Jonny Cash’s Hurt. I know, the obvious choice, but he’s a beautiful man.

What kills us?
What thrills us?
Why are eyes important?
Do words taste stale?
How can anyone be really happy?
Who do you think you are?
What is more important - a face or a name?
Why do people lose their temper?
What is it about us that we have in common?
Do you consider yourself similar to others?