Skip to main content

Procrastination and upside down reading

As deadlines approach and my first semester of university draws to a close I am experiencing my first time of juggling deadlines and essays without a teacher breathing down my neck. There's no "remember to bring your essays in next week" or no Mum or Dad to casually remind me to go finish this or that off. I am relying purely on myself and Phil Yeo, of course, to get all this work done.

We are currently in another of our 'work sessions' and it has comprised of us hunting down a tonne of books from all over the library and him teaching me that Macs are really simple to use and Jack stealing Joel's coat and Joel and me having a domestic via facebook next to each other. Productive stuff, really. I feel though as he sits and reads his 'far too specific' book, our time here has been a little more productive than our last session at his. We sat, as friends do, one on the bed (lounged of course. That was me. Of course) and one at the desk (Phil because he's more studious and had computer-y stuff to do) and began our work. Thus began a very long night.

Ten minutes later... Phil: It's too hot. *opens window* Cue tangent about body temperature and dates and pizza and sex. Work resumes.

Half an hour later... Phil finds gif of cat face and laughs hysterically. I join in. Said photo is posted on facebook. More laughing. Work resumes.

An hour later... Phil: It's too cold. *closes window* Cue tangent about holidays. Phil opens easyjet. I criticise easyjet and tell him to go on jet2. We find reasonably priced holiday to New York and are bemused by our poor-ness. Work resumes.

3am. I am delusional. Phil is delusional; we keep laughing at said picture of cat over and over. I decide to call it a night. Work isn't resumed.*

I previously stated that said evening is going better. Phil Yeo was, in fact, pretending to read his book and read what I was typing with said book UPSIDE DOWN. He is very clever (but I love him).

We are being productive. Kind of. I mean, I AM writing when I should be doing other stuff. And he is reading what I'm writing whilst simultaneously reading upside down.

I mean, come on, give us firsts, right now please.

*PLEASE NOTE: Philip Yeo got all his work done. I, however, promptly fell asleep. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

"Teens don't read"

Earlier today Maureen Johnson pointed out that the view of "teens don't read" in the UK is deeply entrenched (which is a word that I now love  and had never heard before). As a teenager in the UK, the stigma around reading seems to be - to me - it's "uncool", it's "geeky", there "aren't any good books out there". I think the fact that a lot of teenagers in British schools are exposed to older literature or, perhaps, not that popular literature in lessons and forced into over-analysing and spending countless hours on 'what the author meant'. A point that was raised in this twitter discussion was that people didn't want to be seen reading, or didn't want to be seen reading certain books. It's made me realise that I never   ever ever  see people reading in the older years in my school ( ever ). Perhaps the odd year 7 (12 year old) or year 8 (13 year old) will read, but - from experience - they will probably be ...

The people I have met through ink

I read somewhere once that one of the reasons books are so great is that one can pick them up a second time and feel how you did, or remember where you were the first time you picked it up and opened it. I stand by this idea as to one of the reasons I love reading so much. I am perusing the wonderful words of Ali Smith's The Accidental for my level 1 module 'Introduction to Narrative' and whilst this module is all very technical (and trust me, I do love that!) I am really enjoying reading a novel where the characterisation leaves a bitter sweet taste in my mouth and when I close my eyes all I can see is Amber; how she looks, how she dresses, how she smells... I love that. I love that I can read 200 pages or so of one novel and suddenly there is this person inside of my head and I can't get her out. Not so long ago I read R. J. Anderson's Nomad (the second in the Swift series) and I was brought back to why I adore fantasy so much. I felt like I wanted to fly, and...

This is my Metamorphosis

Yes, it is that time again. Claire is feeling low-key-stressed  so she submerges herself in water. In actual fact, normally I get to a stage a high-key-stress  before getting into the tub - this time, I only have access to a bath for 2 more weeks (due to moving... for the third time in a year) so I thought I'd make the most of my local Lush. A while ago I spotted Metamorphosis  and asked the member of staff to show us what it did (she gave us pick of the store). Now... I love the smell of this bath bomb (my bathroom and skin slightly smell of that lovely concoction of scents). The wow-factor was less impressive with this one. Which leads me to the questions: is that always an imperative for a successful bath bomb? Does it have to look absolutely beautiful, or can the warmth and smells lull you to a sense of happiness only a bath can achieve? The fact that I would definitely buy Metamorphosis again, says "no, the prettiness doesn't matter", but I loved  the smell ...