Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate
Thou calmest me most
When thou art blue –
Like the sky that houses the sun.
Ah the sun; so warming, joyful, happy
But sometimes scorching all my worries
Burning them down to ashes
Their fumes wafting their way back into me;
Like a phoenix, the ashes resurrect,
Bursting upwards from the ground
And slapping me straight in the goddamn face
As the summer reminds me;
you must be happy.
Today’s prompt: What is home?
Home is walking through the doors and leaving all pressures, all standards and requirements at the entrance. It’s being free from prying eyes and worrying if you’ve accidentally pulled your socks over your leggings. It’s being free from dreading another human being talking to you or asking you a question when you’re just trying to get home please leave me alone.
It’s taking off any fancy clothes, it’s taking off the uncomfortable shoes and it’s changing into baggy sweatpants and a hole-ridden hoodie. It’s giving yourself a head massage and tying your hair back up, washing your face of grime and pollution and freeing yourself from the worry that there’s lipstick on your teeth, or that your foundation is sliding off.
It’s grabbing all the snacks you can find and falling down onto the sofa in a blanket. It’s turning on the tv and watching cartoons whilst stuffing your face with sausage rolls, crisps and yoghurt after a day of carrying yourself with an air of dignified wisdom. It’s whinging, howling with laughter and burping out loud after a day of stifling your sneezes and being careful not to laugh too loud.
So..my dissertation is due in exactly 2 months and I’m only now attempting to pick up pace; I only really work well under pressure. And when you’re really under pressure you start seeing things and hearing things. Those little kids laughing at 3am last night? Not real! Those shadows creeping behind the door? I hope they weren’t real! Hearing a song on repeat and sounding like it’s playing from inside your head and ears? Amazing! The dissertation engulfs your life. In sixth form your teachers will drum it into your head that a levels are harder than a degree. Ha.
This is false. You go from sixth form to first year of uni and WOAH. I’m doing 6 months worth of A-level work in 2 weeks here. And I’m expected to have PRIOR knowledge! But then you get to year three and hahahahhahaaahahahahahahaha
Honestly. It’s so hard. An English degree has to be one of the hardest and most time consuming, most brain-frying, most rewarding degrees ever, I’ll fight anyone on this. It’s not multiple choice and it’s not the application of facts and equations. You actually have to DO STUFF. LEARN STUFF. RESEARCH STUFF PLUSSS HAVE YOUR OWN RELEVANT OPINIONS! Like you need to create new arguments and approaches in a world where there are already 1000 opinions on any given topic.
I’m hoping there are other people like me, because I am an idiot. Throughout my first two years of university I, once an avid bookworm and arguable favourite of the English literature department at school, began to loathe reading. I even subscribed to TWO analysis websites [yes, I paid for them] just so I wouldn’t have to actually read the books and do any work. And then I realised that we actually had to do work in preparation for class, so I just didn’t turn up. What a role model I am.
Anyway, I’ve always been a stubborn mule and the summer holidays are proof of this, because I’m now currently reading four different books. Or I was at the time of writing this.
It’s like this: tell me to do it and I won’t. I’ll do it if and when I want. The books that I’m currently reading are WILDLY different to each other, and I like to do this so that I can move onto something different; when non-fiction gets too heavy I can move onto gothic to give me a drastically different setting, and then onto crime to bring me nicely back into the real world. Here’s what I’m reading.
Today I finished a gruelling essay that, although made me want to die, I really enjoyed writing. The subject I wrote it on is something I am extremely passionate about and the only reason I regret not starting it weeks ago is because if I did, I would have had more time to to completely destroy whoever is marking my work (unless they’re voting Britain First…in which case they’ll fail me instantly). But I’m lazy, and that took control of me. So I have a bone to pick with those people who talk shit about those of us who study arts subjects at university. You know – literature, philosophy, religion, theatre, music, photography, social sciences etc.
So can I just quickly rant about something that really grinds my gears and has done for as long as I can remember?
“I could care less”
Like. What are you even doing. Telling me you “could care less” is telling me you ACTUALLY CARE A LITTLE BIT. Do you know words? Are you familiar with them? Do you think about what you are saying? Do you know ANYTHING? You are trying to tell me that you don’t care by telling me that you don’t NOT care as much as you could? Logic, I am having difficulty finding you in this moronic person ….Was that phrase coined by somebody cool and then repeated by people who didn’t even stop and think about what they were saying? I am perplexed by how many generations of ignorant people that phrase had to have been passed down through in order for it to still be circulating as widely as it is today. I don’t think I have EVER heard somebody say it the correct way.
You’re supposed to say “I COULDN’T care less”, which means you cannot possibly care any less than you do now. It means you don’t care at all. I COULD care less means “I care a little….I don’t care that much, but it’s possible that I could care a little less than I do now, so yeah I do care a little right now.”
I couldn’t care less = I don’t care at all
I could care less = I care a little bit
Please. It hurts my heart every time I hear stupid things like this. Morons.
Now Playing: Sympathy for the Devil – The Rolling Stones