January 24, 2010
The small treasures are often the most precious, the ones with impressive craftsmanship, the ones that are small and delicate.
And then there are the ones that contain memories, the most precious little treasures that float on the air like feathers in bubbles and that are more valuable than anything tangible.
January 23, 2010
If only freedom was less of a notion unreal,
Oh, how delighted I would be!
I am not foreign to studies, in fact, I adore to read and learn new things; I love the fulfilling sensation to have my eyes opened by novel insights. I do however loathe to study subjects that interest me little, or not at all, as life is too precious to be allowed to go to such waste.
I understand that chemistry is one of the corner stones of science, but as a person whose interests forever shall be enamoured by the theoretical nature of science — which once upon a time was labelled “natural philosophy” — I find the act of studying it a chore best avoided.
I need to say I desire to help push the frontiers of science forward, for nothing less is expected of me. What my heart truly desires, I cannot allow to cross my lips. It’s a notion so foreign it is best silenced; tucked away in the jewelled box of my mind where I keep my most treasured secrets.
Still, as I force myself to study subjects that fail to appeal to my curiosity — by imposing alien restrains upon my own being — I find my mind floating into the vacuum of delight that unsatisfying discoveries create; I find my gaze abandoning the print on the pages to soar into the skies, into my own little world where my mind can be free.
January 14, 2010
Because I do not have any labs in Physiology1002 until next Thursday, I had today off. Having woken up at a reasonable hour and having had breakfast — oatmeal porridge with cranberries, with tea on the side — I managed to force myself to spend a few hours studying.
Studying has bored me to tears since infancy — not that infants study, but you get the point — and so I have attempted to avoid it whenever I can. For the most part things have worked out well, as my grades have been more than sufficient this far, although I would not recommend anyone to follow my poor example.
Since I learnt that I need to score 60% of higher in order to continue on to study towards a Master’s degree in a few year’s time, I have started to attempt to study more, as doing research is what I have dreamt about for years. But, it is terribly hard, as I sincerely do not know how to study properly. I have to learn what I should have learnt decades ago, and the process is slow.
To keep my spirits up I have therefore decided to make studying as fun as I can, by allowing myself to draw and colour; because it is childishly fun. So, I read my text books and lecture notes, while simultaneously copying down important points on paper and illustrating with colourful pictures.
It’s a time-consuming process, but I find that I can keep at it for hours as it makes studying more of a pastime than a chore.
My greatest concern is however that I never the less will fail to reach my goal of scoring >60% on my future tests, as a great deal of the curriculum includes subjects that bore me to tears. And when the motivation to learn is lacking, even the most ambitious of efforts are in vain.
For the moment — rather than studying biochemistry — I would like to start writing a thorough draft of my fantasy novel. I have finished plotting about a third of the story, but I find the hardest part being how to start. While I wait for inspiration to strike, I study, as I reason it cannot hurt me the least.
January 14, 2010
Most of my dreams are quite insignificant, and matter little to the grand scheme of things. One such dream of mine has been to get a set of porcelain which is sweet, but not extravagant.
Last weekend I found myself browsing the contents of a charity shop. Most often, they contain nothing of interest, but every once in a while one comes across something that speaks to one. This little set of porcelain was such an item.
It seemed a bit too inexpensive for an entire set of 30 pieces, and so I was on the verge of leaving the shop when I found the courage to inquire as to its price; it did indeed apply to the entire set. I therefore bought it without further ado.
I carried it back to my home of three days through the snowy sleet, taking great care as to not slip in my high heels and destroy the treasure I had found. I made it back safely, and without incident, and I have since valued it greatly.
Some of the cups have cracks, and some of the plates have chips missing. But I do not mind, as it only means the items have a history. They were once used and loved before left in the care of the charity shop. And now, they are mine to love and care for.
Every morning I use one of the cups to have my morning tea in — Earl Grey, as it is my favourite kind of tea. It is the perfect start to any morning, as the adorable pattern cannot make one do anything but smile.
January 4, 2010
A post on first impressions should probably be made with the impressions still fresh in one’s mind, but as first impressions can be misleading — sometimes to the point of embarrassment, I believed it wise to postpone such a post before I knew whether my first impression of the United Kingdom was accurate or not.
My first impression, and the one that also made the most difference, was that the United Kingdom seemed more sophisticated than my native country, in the sense that it knows how to differentiate between what is important and valuable, and what is not.
Having entered my current university’s grounds for the first time I knew I would like the university, as I value history and traditions. I am also foolish enough to believe that first impressions last a lifetime, something the British seem to appreciate as they always are keen to appear at an advantage, something which the Swedes frequently overlook.
My first impression condenses down to that it provided me with a feeling of that I finally had come home, following a native allocation to Sweden lasting a double decade. I realised this upon replacing Stockholm University with University College London in September– several similar realisations having followed since.
January 2, 2010
Although I started 2009 with blogging quite frequently, my posts grew fewer and farther apart for each passing month until they completely ceased. This was not really what I had intended would happen, but life can be quite unpredictable–as I am certain most understand.
Last year was quite a milestone for me, with both ups and down–2009 offered me both the best and worst experiences of my life this far!
The year started with my application for undergraduate study being rejected by the University of Cambridge, but once the initial blow had subsided, I realised that it was all for the best as I therefore would go to London.
Having struggled through spring and summer half-heartedly and battling severe melancholia, I then went to London.
I was enamoured by the city from the very first moment. People warned me that it was all consistent with the honeymoon-syndrome and that reality soon would catch up with me. It never did, much to my surprise. My infatuation was instead replaced with a deep affection for the country.
This made me realise that I had been right all along believing that an allocation would do me much good, and I intend to remain in the United Kingdom indefinitely. It is all I ever wished for it to be, only better. If I only escape isolation and find happiness, I cannot wish for anything more.
The allocation did however also have its downsides.
The first year of the course which I studied mostly consists of subjects I believed I had left in the past, and to study chemistry and thermodynamics has done me little good. Hopefully those subjects shall not bother me for a few months now–not until the exams are to be written.
Housing in London is also deplorable. My folly knew no limits when I believed that the standards would be the same in Stockholm and London alike. I only laugh now, having learnt the extent of my mistake the hard way as I went from staying with friends to being homeless, navigating between hotels a few days at a time.
I shall never forget how I pulled two heavy suitcases across the streets of London one very late evening, my body wishing nothing more than to collapse, my mind however musing that I had hit rock bottom and only could go up from there. It was true.
I am now a week away from moving to a town outside London, and I am certain it shall prove delightful as the apartment is all a student on a budget could ever wish for, making the distance to the university well-worth the long commute.
I have great hopes for 2010, and I hope that it also shall allow me to return to the world of blogging, one short post at a time.