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!

If God was food...

it would be bacon.

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.

wisdom comes through initial foolishness

1. Never get drunk. Just don't do it.
2. Never even consider drinking Babycham then being given wine.
3. Never decide to redecorate the steps of your friend's work-place with the contents of your stomach.
4. Avoid the above, especially when you are expected to be sociable and early-rising the next day. Even more so if you have an absolute deadline for history coursework the day after that, and are going to be forced to stay awake to chop words out of it.

fml.

Hair is some advice...

This is a fable - that means you should learn from it - told from my experiences of this week. This is what occurred:

On Friday night, after a long and pretty dashed busy week, I was naturally very tired. I was also rather grimey. So, what did I decide to do? Naturally, I didn't want to soil my bed by taking to it before I was clean, so I dived in the bath. It was the perfect excuse to mess about with the cranberry bath bombs from the Quiz victory.

Now, it was all fine and dandy - they worked a treat, and I came out about 3/4 of an hour later practically sparkling (Twishite style) with cleanliness.

THIS, is where things went wrong. Dried myself in a rather hasty and half-asleep fashion, then fell into pajamas and bed. What I didn't take into account, however, was the state of my hair.

My hair is of the consistency that, if left to dry naturally without being thrown about on a pillow through restless sleep as it dries comes out in ringletty curly things, which is all fine and dandy. Indeed, quite recently it had been behaving itself very well indeed. Until now.

Having gone to bed with damp hair, I woke up looking very much like this:

I even had that expression the moment I caught sight of myself in the mirror.

Well, I know what you must be thinking - It's OKAY! You can slather it with serum and brush it into submission. You are gravely mistaken. The addition of a hairbrush turned it into more of an 80s big hair disaster.

I think we can all agree that this is only remotely dashing IN the 80s and not in the 201's when frizz is practically the devil.

No amount of serum, nor mousse, nor hairspray can tame my hiroshima-fuzz hair when it goes this way. Not even washing it again. I am a walking stick of candyfloss.

And this is why, kids, you should never let sleep take you while your hair is still on-the-dry. Avoid it at all costs!