17.04.13- Creative Bursts, Phone Interrogations and Re-learning the Pastimes of Buddha

Researching Pokeballs

I was going to continue with the painstaking editing process of my final poetry portfolio due in 2 weeks, but seeing as I've endured the harsh criticism of my lecturer and mercilessly chopped and rethought whole stanzas, then put them back, then rewrote them for hours on end I need to do something that doesn't involve tearing up my poems and deciding that out of the 50+ I've written over the years I'm probably only okay
with about two. It's hard to take criticism when you've spent months reshaping your creative work but it's done me good and allowed me to read the poems with fresh eyes; however I need to wake up and read it again tomorrow afresh rather than intensify my headache tonight. I refuse this time to make myself so
stressed that I become a hermit and make myself ill; it's not productive and it's working much better for me to have a morning workout, work hard at Uni work throughout the day and allow myself to go and socialize to unwind at night. I am happy, relatively stress-free considering I finish my degree in 3 weeks and am not running the risk of "over-revising", which during my 10-12 hour revision stints until 2am during the January's exams made trying to condense my essay notes hell. It's nice rewarding myself after a long day of study, and seeing as I'm at a creative peak with writing and drawing at the moment I've learnt not to let it pass me by. I've spent far too long with a creative block and it feels great to find myself immersed in writing at the moment.

NOT THIS YEAR, BUZZ

Kind of like a metaphorical ejaculation of creativity.
That's disgusting.
Pub evenings like tonight's are also a great incentive to do some work, though I managed to stick to Diet Pepsi; with tomorrow's Howl session it will be an all-too-soon reunion with the wine. As much as I love all these poetry events my liver is probably going to fail and I will be found 3 weeks later in my student bedroom with an empty bottle of shiraz, being slowly eaten by 30-odd felines.
It's a more original way to go than old age I guess. I would almost say 'hipster', but I hate that word.
It's so unoriginal.
I haven't had time to see the little bro much but he has been ringing every day without fail to check I haven't "been boozing again". A typical phone conversation will go like this:

CALLUM: Hewwow.
ME: Hi, Cal.

The only thing worse than a mouthful of whiskey:
a mouthful of double-concentrate squash

CALLUM: Nat's been boozing again?
ME: Not today.
CALLUM: Nat go boozing tomorrow?
ME: Yeah, Nat wants to drink wine tomorrow.
CALLUM: *gasps* Boozing, you naaaaughty girl! I tell Mammy.
ME: *flatly* Oh, please no. Don't.
CALLUM: How many wines?
ME: Five.
CALLUM: ...good girl. Five. Not forty-nine wines.
ME: No, five.
CALLUM: Good, not being sick. ...MAAAAM NAT'S BOOZING AGAIN.
*hangs up*

He doesn't actually tire of this at all and we've had the same conversation every day for weeks. But I'd feel lost without my daily interrogation regarding my alcohol consumption.
He's going to be the guy everyone wants to punch during Freshers' week.
He also turned to my grandfather the other day after he picked Callum up from school and said, "Oh God you're so beautiful." And has insisted this week on carrying a handbag, wearing lipstick and claimed that out of football and rugby, his activity of choice is shopping.
I can't wait to meet his boyfriend when he's 18.
Tomorrow won't be too heavy on the Uni work; I have promised to make cake tomorrow, and cake I will bake (wow, that was a really shit poem). I just like spending money on pretty cake cases and funky icing (I just used the word 'funky', ew) and getting gold stars in the art of procrastination. The cake will be literary-themed.
Unless it burns, in which case I just have to hope everybody's too drunk to notice.
Tonight however will be spent doing my nightly meditation which I've started to get back into. I'm sure this has helped with the surprising stress-free, chilled out state I'm in considering my degree is over in 3 weeks.
Either that or it can't be insulin I'm injecting in the mornings.

It's nice to get frisky again with the pencils

I'd forgotten how great it is for giving you a proper restful sleep that leaves you feeling energized and refreshed in the morning. I'd forgotten how free your mind becomes, how your dreams intensify to the point of an acid-trip (probably; the only trip I've ever done was on a bus or down the stairs) and your thinking becomes clearer. I think this is probably the reason for the peak in my creativity; for the first time in months I've picked up a pencil and been satisfied with what I've drawn.
No it wasn't a penis on the corner of my lecture notes. I'm (almost) over that at my old age.
It's even better if you can light candles, but I'm a dopey arse and will fall asleep and my room will catch fire and I will die, which would be a real shame considering I'm so close to graduating and still have a full tub of Philadelphia in the fridge that's yet to be eaten. Seriously; try it (meditation, not Philadelphia). I've always been into all things spiritual and though not religious, I find a lot of Eastern philosophy fascinating. I look forward to that hour where all my limbs go soft and jelly-ish as though I'm watching Ryan Gosling rip off his shirt and feel all the tension melt away with my clearing head. If you're new to it, there are some great books that simplify it (John C Parkin's F*ck It Therapy and F*ck It: The Ultimate Spiritual Way are honestly the most enlightening, funny and perspective-changing books I've ever read. I'd lend you my copies but I return to them too much. Plus lending my books feels like freely giving away a baby, just with lots of page numbers and no crying). There are also thousands of guided meditations available on Youtube, all of them totally different, so try a few and see if there's one that works with you. I've found one I use every day and I'm really noticing the change mentally.

I can't think of anything better than a levitating cat
at one with the world

Though some days you just can't avoid that sinking feeling that you may actually prefer wasps to humans.
Oh dear, it's nearly midnight. I'm going to go off now and be a (hopefully slightly smaller) version of Buddha. It helps to heal the crushing feeling in my heart that I still have not managed to acquire a single cat.
Ommmmmmm.