Went to the doctors. Now on drugs that I have distressingly discovered are one part of the cocktail my mother has to have every day. Hopefully they will do something to help sort me out. I feel a bit sick. Spent most of the appointment marvelling what a lovely, intelligent sounding person my doctor is. He got into the profession that suits him perfectly. It takes a very avuncular chap to explain suicidal side-effects in an acceptable way. Bluntness is not in his vocabulary.

Exams in two weeks and judging by my vague attempts at revision philosophy and ethics is going to be a royal, royal disaster. I have no interest in it any more. Not religious language, at least. Need to build up some motivation to do revision and not writing, but reviewing things I already vaguely know is exceptionally dull, when I could be producing and thinking about new things.

Big, long, illuminating conversation at the pub the other night. Very odd.

Not sure where I stand on very much. Trying my best to avoid caring. Tschuss!

Things I have learned about humanity.

Humanity makes my head hurt.

1. Money is the root of everything, evil or otherwise.
2. Apathy is rife in society; people prefer not to think or do anything.
3. Humanity is happy to shout things they don't understand, so long as they can do it loudly, in a group, or to music (or, indeed. all three).
4. The value of aspiration is entirely subject to luck.
5. Older only means wiser in terms of awareness (or, in some cases, acceptance and self-deception).

Most of these are heavily influenced by historical and societal progression, though I doubt things have ever been all too different.

Needless to say, I am not entirely chuffed with the world today. Not least because people in Canada have cured cancer, but because it's not profitable nobody cares. Or because God being everlasting does not imply that time has an end. Or because people can get away with lying plainly to people's faces, manipulating them with every word. Or because time is short and nobody cares. Or because sponteneity is dead.

That is all.

The emptiness of revision.

It is not working.
I have tried, I have failed, and now my head is little more than a sieve with holes just big enough for anything useful to slip through into the land of the infuriatingly forgotten.
Philosophy and Ethics is impossible. There are too many names. There are too many topics. There is too little clarity and distinction between them.

I have tried explaining aloud, reading, making charts, making posters, typing things up, typing things at Alison in MSN, but none of it is going through.

Anyone have any ideas how to make names and ideas stick coherently, or do I need to get down to B&Q for some superglue?

Revelation~

In the past week or so, physics has repeatedly blown my mind. It's been like a massive, sudden destiny-driven speight of learning facilitated by a combination of a gift, a purchase, a brainwave and a moment's coincidental scanning of the Sky TV listings.

At risk of going on about how 2011 is a year of change in my life, not simply because of inevitabilities such as Uni, but also because of my determination to approach things from a Zen perspective, this year has already given me so much more reason for positivity than last year.

My good chum Anna (who I mention a lot, and who is possibly my lone reader) and I had a (mildly pissed) discussion about how, at this age, things start making sense, and I can say from experience of the past month or so, that this truly is the case.

Time (the relativity of which I have recently got my head around) makes more sense - I am becoming more organised. Writing and language (which my wrestle with my portfolio has increasingly unveiled) is logical and sensible and not at all as complicated as I have, until recently, tried to make it. And all the weird and wonderful mysteries of the universe are much more exciting, as though my brain has been in an eight-year car-wash and now emerged sparkling, fresh and raring to go.

The past month (though it is not the end of the month, so I oughtn't to be summarising) has seen me forcing improved public confidence, exploring new philosophical ideas, meeting new people, embracing adultular responsibilities and somehow coming to terms with the fact that, actually, maths isn't as bad as all that. I have, however, had little success in doing mornings (but let's not run before we can walk, eh?)

I have a mug which explains, in the words of Oscar Wilde: 'Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast.' This is entirely true - but does not count if breakfast is taken after 11am.

I have just had a phonecall from my Granny and, despite knowing she wasn't actually calling to talk to me, we had a good chat about how exciting the world is, and how yes, I can borrow her books about atomic theory. Just when I thought it was impossible to be more of a nerd, it's snuck up on me like a hungry bear.

And you cannot understand how hard it was not to allude to Shakespeare there; such urges prove my point.

In any case, life is an exciting ball of quarks, gluons and bits of invisible fluff, and long may it remain so!

Resolutions - and how they don't always fail.

Finishing a book is a very strange, unique feeling. An oxymoronic groan in the pit of the stomach; delight in knowing the whole story, despair in having to leave the universe which, through the pages, has become three-dimensional, real in your mind. I get this a lot with books. The number of novels I finish with the decision 'I must read that again' are inumerable, and it is only very rarely that I get the time to do just that.

I promised myself, as something of an End of Year Challenge, that I would finish Year of the King before 2011 arrives, and have just managed it, with one hour and 40 minutes to spare. I am glad to say, though, that I have not rushed it - the book is compelling enough in itself - but have taken it in my own time.

This shows progress. Some time last year (that is, 2009, still) I resolutely decided to take up reading on an industrial scale. This decision wasn't as clinical and emotionless as it sounds, as I don't believe it's possible to force yourself to read things you don't want to - or, indeed, to read for the sake of reading. It was something I had considered for a while:

Having always had myself down as a very slow reader (the first proper novel I remember reading cover-to-cover, without audiobook cheating, was Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, which took me three trudging but enjoyable weeks, aged 8) there had always been little desire to read a lot, until quite recently. Of course, I did read, but I wouldn't have considered it a hobby of any kind.

At this point I met my good chum Ellie, in English and form time. Initially, she hit me with the intimidating news that, during the Summer holidays she had managed to plough through the best part of 11 books (albeit of varying sizes). Gradually, as her prodigious speedy-reading continued this grew into a little bit of a joke for us - we pride ourselves on our English-based banter (which sometimes evolves into mock abuse). It was at this point, when the holidays rolled around, that I set myself the initial challenge of putting my reading to the test, and from there it became something of an addiction (as anyone who bothers to read my rambly literary waffle may have gathered) and now, here I am.

Tomorrow, or rather, next year, I go into my second year of reading recording and booklists and such things. For Christmas I recieved a dashing Book Log (which, amusingly also abbreviates into 'blog') which I look forward to using.

Now, the final thing to do is to work out my New Year's Resolutions for this year. A New Year, a new start (as no doubt countless other bloggers will be explaining) and for me this means:
1. Taking each day as it comes. Trying not to get so stressed out about things, remembering that people have gone through much worse than I am, and putting Padre's 'philosophical' view of life into effect more thoroughly.
2. Getting back on track with A-level work. Being in a bad mood is no excuse for failing exams - but not getting stressed about it, as there will be enough of that in the post-exam period. Just keep thinking about getting your own cutlery!
3. Drawing more. NOT school work related things - carry a sketchbook.
4. Organise that commonplace book; use it.

BT: The End of Mr Y

On rare occasion, you can pick up a book that you've never heard of (even in passing) before and find that it is inspiring, clever and entirely engrossing at the same time. This book (which I heartily recommend as it has prevented me doing any work for the past three days) is one of those.

Initially, I have to admit I was sceptical. The blurb on the back is a frankly shocking representation of it so I admit to some initial internal dread. Judging a book by its cover is something we all do, but all wish we could avoid, and I'm glad, now, the book was given to me as a present, or I mightn't have picked it up at all... Additionally, upon discovering (early on) that the protagonist was a red-haired girly called Ariel, I raised my eyebrows a few times. But it is all justified eventually - and even amusing name puns here and there don't manage to ruin the feel of the book.

The End of Mr Y tells the story of a PhD student who finds herself sucked into a world of life-changing philosophy and scientific discovery through the chance finding of a book in a second-hand book store. This is simplifying it considerably - this isn't a fantasy along the lines of The Never-Ending Story. The book combines intelligent theoretical scientific and philosophical discussions within a very humanistic and down-to-Earth narrative, which makes even the hard science upon which it is based a delight to digest.

This is the sort of fiction you read and, afterwards, come out feeling as though you have not only enjoyed reading it, but you have tangibly learned a lot along the way about quantum physics, literature, philosophy, theology and, in a way, about life in general. I can't count the number of times I read things which made me think, 'Oh God, I wish so-and-so had read this' and 'Ooh, I must tell such and such' because there is such a broad spectrum of interest within it.

So yes, I recommend it wholeheartedly and have tried to extol its virtues without ruining all the juicy surprises along the way.