Do I:
1) Write my essay
2) REFRESH TUMBLR ENDLESSLY
3) Give in to listening to all of my showtunes and Glee songs on my Zen, blasting out through the speakers and pretend I'm in an empty theatre, on the stage, singing and having a FANTASTIC TIME
4) Imagine I'm at Leeds festival by listening to Radio 1 and then realising I'm not that sort of person anyway
5) Watch a film, a new one, that I haven't seen (SHERLOCK HOLMES)
6) Sit and play Bubbletown until I finish it (Gahh this is so tempting)
7) Write my personal statement
8) Read my set texts
9) Read Vampirates and other assorted fictions (this is a very LONG list)
10) Shut up and drive?
(last one is a lie, I can't drive. Yet. That's a scary thought, I applied for my provisional licence last week.)
My final option, really, is to sit and feel a little bit melancholy. It's such a wonderful word to use in everyday language, but it makes me think of poor Jacques from As You Like It, and my, he's a troubled but wise soul. My train of thought then chugs off to how much I love studying English, and Shakespeare's plays, and being in theatres and the thrills of performance.
I then arrive at the desolate station of my desk. It is tidy now, but has been rehoused in another area of my bedroom. The lid is down on the piano, and it has become a perfunctory desk. With two, half written essays lying upon it. Oh no, don't think me a sensible member of the education system at all, these are two essays... upon the same title. They just need to be compiled properly. Yes, put together. In other words, written correctly, but I'm finding it hard to put aside my sense of freedom and gay abandon, and actually sit down and write the blasted thing.
I did make a very sturdy start to it, with enlightening sentences and broad insight, but I was just put off by an overpowering sense of... well, melancholy.
I was enjoying a cup of tea, using my fabulous little individual teapot that I got for my birthday, like this one
but it has little cakes covering it, and the sensation of loneliness swept over me. I am often happy in my solitude, and as our family takes their places in their individual dwellings of solace as the days draw on, it becomes interesting to observe, but ever so lonely to be a part of. The funny thing is, I'm a part of it, because I also go off by myself, but we're all apart in the house. Ha, that is funny.Don't misjudge me, I do often like to be alone, but the sensation of being lonely is not a pleasant one. As I felt this, I found myself drawn to clean my desk, sing along to some music, and break away from my essay. Exchanging a few pleasant words with my Mother as I walked in and out of the kitchen with cleaning fluids reassured me that I am not alone in this world.
The only thing I am ever alone with are my thoughts.
Tatty bye,
Haze
(p.s. If you noticed that the option of "write a blog" was not in my list at the start, well done you. From this, you can take the piece of knowledge away with you that I am not the sort of person who does what she should, when she should. However, this does not mean I am a total rule breaker. All in all, I can produce the goods, but do well at procrastinating along the way.)
So I'm going to try and guess WHILE reading what your final choice is, and I hope you said it in the end. Number three sounds the most hilarious and I think you should film that sometime. I vote you're going to do… 7. Although you should probably do number 1. xD
ReplyDeleteOH. YOU USED NONE OF SAID OPTIONS.
Melancholy. *sigh* What a word, what a state of being.
DUDE do you remember when you sent me that picture of your desk?! Good times. <3
I agree. I like being alone, but being lonely is the worst. I often find it that when I want to be alone, I've made plans or my parents won't leave me alone, but when I'm lonely and want to hang out everyone is busy.