Suffice to say, with regards to University, this has not been a productive work. I have spent this week either on the mat, in the pub or lying in bed aching. The main reason for this is the life consuming commitment which is Jitsu, and the run up to a grading. I don't wish to bore you so I shan't talk at length on the subject don't worry, but just so you all get the gist, I deem it of importance. And I would wholeheartedly suggest anyone with the vaguest interest in martial arts to try it, so long as you don't mind a bit of pain.
Anyway, the snow seems to have vacated this area of the country thank god. No doubt we shall see it return, but hopefully after Christmas. Wouldn't it be a shame if they had to postpone exams... We live in hope!
Speaking of which, Christmas is nearly here! This time last year I had bought and written all my cards etc. and had most of my Christmas shopping done. This year however, I have not. I promise, next week, to get myself into gear and crack on. I hope everyone is excited, if not, why not? And it best be a good reason. I intend to eat my body weight in food and spend January trying to lose it again.
It will also be good to see friends from home again, who are at the moment scattered across the country (and in some cases, other countries). We'll see what drinking through fresher's week has done to harden some peoples livers. We commented to a friend currently studying in Scotland that he has to come home whether snowed in or not, his suggestion that he would make it home if he had to ride a horse back did worry me somewhat with regards to his safety. A man on horseback riding out of Scotland to reach somewhere towards central England? The longbows would be out in no time. Freedom! - Again, anyone who didn't understand that, hang your head in shame and go watch a few historically inaccurate films.
I hope to get another post to you before Christmas, if I find anything to write about, or if I have the time in my oh so busy schedule. But if not, Merry Christmas.
Oh, and a note to all those grading on Saturday - Best of luck, try not to break anything, and I apologise if I break anything of yours. Apart from you Sean, you don't need luck - you'll just need an ambulance...
Thursday, 9 December 2010
Tuesday, 30 November 2010
'When Hell Freezes Over' - Somewhat of a Reality?
So before I went to bed last night, I watched the relatively short snowfall and thought, ‘hmm, that’s annoying, I have a train to catch in the morning. But it’ll be ok, it’s not that much I suppose’. Then I awake this morning to find I have somehow left Manchester and awoken at Everest base camp. Good god. I’ve never had to actively seek out a taxi on Oxford Road, it just doesn’t happen. I held on for dear life during the ride to the station, taxi drivers + snow = a very scary ride indeed. But to give him his due, I arrived safe, and I even tipped the thieving bastard ten pence (even if it was because I was in a rush and he was fumbling to find it).
I wouldn’t usually dream of writing to you whilst on the move, however my only other option is to look out of the window, and I care very little to look upon field after field of white any longer. I could, of course, try to strike up a conversation with those around me. Only one problem lies with that though – I’m not mental. There is always that one person who starts a conversation on a train, much to the dismay of their fellow passengers. I saw this in action when coming into Manchester on Monday, and thoroughly enjoyed watching from afar as those around this enigma of a man squirmed, reeking of being incredibly uncomfortable.
I’m sorry it’s been such a long time since I wrote last, but honestly, I lead a dull life. And I haven’t had nearly enough inclination to sit down and think of something interesting to write. Hopefully this will suffice.
It has been odd to read posts on Facebook and such from those currently at school. Such posts that, not even a year ago, I would have happily joined in with and celebrated. Posts which shout delight at the snow and herald it as a miracle, closing schools and giving days off left, right and centre. But now I look at them with dismay, to anyone in the real world (that is of course if you would class University as the’ real world’) snow is a nightmare. It is cold, wet and makes transport in England crumble. After last winter especially, many have grown to loathe it.
You have to feel sorry in some part for these poor Southerners as well who have come from warmer climates, from the reactions I have seen them give, you would think they were all from the Middle East or some such and that cold weather was unheard of to them. So when I say we should feel sorry for them in part, that part is that they’re just soft. Then again, this is coming from the one sat in a Royal Navy greatcoat, scarf and snow boots. Hypocrisy thy name is...
Right, well, I seem to be drawing closer to Leeds, so I’d better pack away my laptop lest a chav jump me for it. I wonder what the weather is doing here? Oh, it’s snowing, what a surprise.
I wouldn’t usually dream of writing to you whilst on the move, however my only other option is to look out of the window, and I care very little to look upon field after field of white any longer. I could, of course, try to strike up a conversation with those around me. Only one problem lies with that though – I’m not mental. There is always that one person who starts a conversation on a train, much to the dismay of their fellow passengers. I saw this in action when coming into Manchester on Monday, and thoroughly enjoyed watching from afar as those around this enigma of a man squirmed, reeking of being incredibly uncomfortable.
I’m sorry it’s been such a long time since I wrote last, but honestly, I lead a dull life. And I haven’t had nearly enough inclination to sit down and think of something interesting to write. Hopefully this will suffice.
It has been odd to read posts on Facebook and such from those currently at school. Such posts that, not even a year ago, I would have happily joined in with and celebrated. Posts which shout delight at the snow and herald it as a miracle, closing schools and giving days off left, right and centre. But now I look at them with dismay, to anyone in the real world (that is of course if you would class University as the’ real world’) snow is a nightmare. It is cold, wet and makes transport in England crumble. After last winter especially, many have grown to loathe it.
You have to feel sorry in some part for these poor Southerners as well who have come from warmer climates, from the reactions I have seen them give, you would think they were all from the Middle East or some such and that cold weather was unheard of to them. So when I say we should feel sorry for them in part, that part is that they’re just soft. Then again, this is coming from the one sat in a Royal Navy greatcoat, scarf and snow boots. Hypocrisy thy name is...
Right, well, I seem to be drawing closer to Leeds, so I’d better pack away my laptop lest a chav jump me for it. I wonder what the weather is doing here? Oh, it’s snowing, what a surprise.
Thursday, 18 November 2010
"Language is a dialect with an army and a navy." - Discuss
Right, before you start reading this, I warm you now: This is my first essay for university, it is not my usual blog post and so if you don't like it, tough. Anyone remotely interested in language might appreciate it though - (So that'll be you Alasdair.) The essay question was the title of the blog post. Have fun.
This much used metaphor was said by, Yiddish Linguist, Max Weinreich in 1945. With this quote, he was making the point that a language is only so because of social factors, not linguistic factors. With this essay I will look at the basis for this and try to determine whether things such as politics are the driving forces behind what sets aside a language from a dialect.
The OED defines dialect as – ‘One of the subordinate forms or varieties of a language arising from local peculiarities of vocabulary, pronunciation, and idiom.’ And a language as – ‘The system of spoken or written communication used by a particular country, people, community, etc.’ So, going merely from this, it would suggest that a language is a specific communication used by a specific group of people and that a dialect is a subordinate form of this. But, take for example Scots. Many disagree as to whether it is its own language, or just a dialect of English due to its history and the fact the two are mutually intelligible, but either way it has now been accepted by the UK Government as a ‘regional language’ and is a part of the European Charter for Regional or Minority Languages. The point I make here is that; if Scotland had retained its independence as a country, and was not a part of the United Kingdom, would Scots have ever have been in question as to whether it was in fact a language? Is it only because of the close ties of Scotland and England that it was at all ever considered to be just a dialect?
Some would argue that the fact English speakers can understand Scots, means that it is therefore a dialect and not another language all together. They would accept Welsh as another Language because it is not understandable by English speakers. However, if we look at Danish and Norwegian, these two languages are comparable to the relationship between English and Scots as each is widely understood by speakers of the other. However, there is no argument as to whether they are distinct languages or not. Why is this? It is here we come back to our quote, Norwegian and Danish both hold ‘an army and a navy’. That is to say, each of the languages is spoken by an independent country, with native speakers who know each language as their own and it is recognised by the government as being an official language. We can take from this then that distinct and independent countries, where the lines are not blurred, have specific languages despite holding mutual intelligibility with another which would usually suggest dialects of the same language.
Therefore we see that politics has its hand heavily in what defines a language aside from a dialect with regards to separate countries, but what about different languages within one country? New Zealand for example has three (politically) recognised official languages, English, NZ Sign Language, and Maori. Maori comprises a mere 4.2% of the overall spoken languages, and yet there is no dispute as to whether this is a language or not. The reason for this is due to social factors rather than the more political ones I previously outlined. Maori is a distinct and proud culture with a strong historical grounding in the country, if the government was to decide to not have it as an official language, there would be outcry of discrimination and unjustness, and so we see that some languages have power for entirely different reasons. Another language that is not as much a political language is Yiddish. Here we see a language that has developed from a religious community, rather than a geographical one, with such we would struggle to hold it as a dialect due to its worldwide presence.
A final are that I will look at, are variations of the same language, but which are recognised as separate ones. Why is it that American English, a direct result of British English, is not considered to be a dialect, but is instead very definitely its own language? We (speakers of British English) have no problem, accent aside, understanding those who speak American English, and vice versa. However, differences lie not just in the spoken language, but also in written language. Spelling, orthography, grammar. All of these have a bearing on a language setting its self aside from another, regardless of similarity in spoken form. Again though, if America weren’t such a powerful country as it is, would it still be known as American English? Or would it have retained more of its original form? Of course, there is an exception to every rule. If we look at China, the main language of the country is Mandarin Chinese. There are however, numerous other languages and variation recognised by the country, a big one of which is Cantonese. These two languages in spoken form are not mutually intelligible, however, they share a writing system with Mandarin which has only few differences and so the written form can be understood, even thought the spoken form cannot.
In conclusion, it would seem that, yes, having political influence and power can make a language and set it aside from what might otherwise just be a dialect, and that it is as much to do with borders and specific countries as anything else. Also cultural and social factors play a huge part in the distinction between language and dialect, such as heritage and religion, and these bend the lines that might normally be used to define, ‘what is a language?’. Looking at this, we have placed the army with political factors, and we have placed the navy with more social aspects. The point made about differences and similarities in written language defining a language instead of being a dialect then, I can only assume, must be the elusive air force.
This much used metaphor was said by, Yiddish Linguist, Max Weinreich in 1945. With this quote, he was making the point that a language is only so because of social factors, not linguistic factors. With this essay I will look at the basis for this and try to determine whether things such as politics are the driving forces behind what sets aside a language from a dialect.
The OED defines dialect as – ‘One of the subordinate forms or varieties of a language arising from local peculiarities of vocabulary, pronunciation, and idiom.’ And a language as – ‘The system of spoken or written communication used by a particular country, people, community, etc.’ So, going merely from this, it would suggest that a language is a specific communication used by a specific group of people and that a dialect is a subordinate form of this. But, take for example Scots. Many disagree as to whether it is its own language, or just a dialect of English due to its history and the fact the two are mutually intelligible, but either way it has now been accepted by the UK Government as a ‘regional language’ and is a part of the European Charter for Regional or Minority Languages. The point I make here is that; if Scotland had retained its independence as a country, and was not a part of the United Kingdom, would Scots have ever have been in question as to whether it was in fact a language? Is it only because of the close ties of Scotland and England that it was at all ever considered to be just a dialect?
Some would argue that the fact English speakers can understand Scots, means that it is therefore a dialect and not another language all together. They would accept Welsh as another Language because it is not understandable by English speakers. However, if we look at Danish and Norwegian, these two languages are comparable to the relationship between English and Scots as each is widely understood by speakers of the other. However, there is no argument as to whether they are distinct languages or not. Why is this? It is here we come back to our quote, Norwegian and Danish both hold ‘an army and a navy’. That is to say, each of the languages is spoken by an independent country, with native speakers who know each language as their own and it is recognised by the government as being an official language. We can take from this then that distinct and independent countries, where the lines are not blurred, have specific languages despite holding mutual intelligibility with another which would usually suggest dialects of the same language.
Therefore we see that politics has its hand heavily in what defines a language aside from a dialect with regards to separate countries, but what about different languages within one country? New Zealand for example has three (politically) recognised official languages, English, NZ Sign Language, and Maori. Maori comprises a mere 4.2% of the overall spoken languages, and yet there is no dispute as to whether this is a language or not. The reason for this is due to social factors rather than the more political ones I previously outlined. Maori is a distinct and proud culture with a strong historical grounding in the country, if the government was to decide to not have it as an official language, there would be outcry of discrimination and unjustness, and so we see that some languages have power for entirely different reasons. Another language that is not as much a political language is Yiddish. Here we see a language that has developed from a religious community, rather than a geographical one, with such we would struggle to hold it as a dialect due to its worldwide presence.
A final are that I will look at, are variations of the same language, but which are recognised as separate ones. Why is it that American English, a direct result of British English, is not considered to be a dialect, but is instead very definitely its own language? We (speakers of British English) have no problem, accent aside, understanding those who speak American English, and vice versa. However, differences lie not just in the spoken language, but also in written language. Spelling, orthography, grammar. All of these have a bearing on a language setting its self aside from another, regardless of similarity in spoken form. Again though, if America weren’t such a powerful country as it is, would it still be known as American English? Or would it have retained more of its original form? Of course, there is an exception to every rule. If we look at China, the main language of the country is Mandarin Chinese. There are however, numerous other languages and variation recognised by the country, a big one of which is Cantonese. These two languages in spoken form are not mutually intelligible, however, they share a writing system with Mandarin which has only few differences and so the written form can be understood, even thought the spoken form cannot.
In conclusion, it would seem that, yes, having political influence and power can make a language and set it aside from what might otherwise just be a dialect, and that it is as much to do with borders and specific countries as anything else. Also cultural and social factors play a huge part in the distinction between language and dialect, such as heritage and religion, and these bend the lines that might normally be used to define, ‘what is a language?’. Looking at this, we have placed the army with political factors, and we have placed the navy with more social aspects. The point made about differences and similarities in written language defining a language instead of being a dialect then, I can only assume, must be the elusive air force.
Wednesday, 10 November 2010
Remembrance
Just a short post.
Tomorrow is armistice day, a day of remembrance for the men who gave their lives fighting for our country. But also so I feel, a day to remember those others we have lost, and it feels somewhat poignant.
I today learned of the very sad death of one of the men who I hold in very high regard, and as one of my inspirations to become a teacher. Myself and many others are deeply saddened and feel we owed him a lot.
My thoughts are with all those who have someone to remember tomorrow.
Tomorrow is armistice day, a day of remembrance for the men who gave their lives fighting for our country. But also so I feel, a day to remember those others we have lost, and it feels somewhat poignant.
I today learned of the very sad death of one of the men who I hold in very high regard, and as one of my inspirations to become a teacher. Myself and many others are deeply saddened and feel we owed him a lot.
My thoughts are with all those who have someone to remember tomorrow.
Tuesday, 9 November 2010
Optimism, for a Change
"Never take life too seriously. Nobody gets out alive anyway" - Frank Arudini
Tomorrow I hope to win the lottery, have lots of money, and live comfortably for the rest of my life. Well, one can dream. I will, in fact, not win and instead, continue to live as a poor student worrying about whether I will be able to pay the rent next month. At least I'm in the same boat as many others.
I apologise for the delay in this latest post, but I do have a reason (sort of). You see, last week was reading week, or dossers week as I prefer to call it. This basically means that no one has lectures or tutorials, effectively making it a week off. That is of course unless you are one of the poor bastards studying anything remotely science based it seems. Thank goodness I am not, I feel it is a trifle of a win for a BA there, rather than a BSC. Huzzah.
Anyway, the reason that meant I didn't post you anything remotely interesting to read, was because I tend to write during lectures, about the only time I should be listening. Instead, I had a lovely few days away from this hell hole of a city. Mancunians may dislike me for that comment, but Mancunians don't like anyone, so it really doesn't matter.
Since much has transpired since then, I will start with an episode from last week. Halloween. An over rated, ridiculous American holiday which we have no reason to adopt. That said, for the first time ever, this year I actually enjoyed my self. This was though achieved with copious amounts of alcohol and an outfit to put most to shame. Yes, I mean you over there who applied a bit of ketchup to your neck or a bandage around your head, make an effort if you're going to bother at all.
So, now it's over, as is bonfire night (a real, English, reason to have some sort of social event). Winter has well and truly come knocking, we've had floods and snow around the country already and remembering the hell of last years three months of white, people are quaking in their new fortified snow boots. On the upside to this - yes, /I/ am offering an upside, don't worry, I'm quite well - Christmas is just around the corner and this year I find it hard to be as scrooge like as I would have hoped. Despite being poor and not being able to buy for more than one person, I am truly looking forward to it. I feel I should give something here that is cheerful and uplifting, or a reason, but I struggle to do so, so I shan't.
One final thing. I think that today has been the most adult one of my life - house browsing for next year. A scary and exciting prospect, but at least I know who I want to be living with and actually like all of them. That's right. Eight relative strangers, all from one flat, and not one that I dislike, it is truly something rare. I feel adopted by them, like a pet maybe?
Off I go to curl up and sleep on their floor...
Tomorrow I hope to win the lottery, have lots of money, and live comfortably for the rest of my life. Well, one can dream. I will, in fact, not win and instead, continue to live as a poor student worrying about whether I will be able to pay the rent next month. At least I'm in the same boat as many others.
I apologise for the delay in this latest post, but I do have a reason (sort of). You see, last week was reading week, or dossers week as I prefer to call it. This basically means that no one has lectures or tutorials, effectively making it a week off. That is of course unless you are one of the poor bastards studying anything remotely science based it seems. Thank goodness I am not, I feel it is a trifle of a win for a BA there, rather than a BSC. Huzzah.
Anyway, the reason that meant I didn't post you anything remotely interesting to read, was because I tend to write during lectures, about the only time I should be listening. Instead, I had a lovely few days away from this hell hole of a city. Mancunians may dislike me for that comment, but Mancunians don't like anyone, so it really doesn't matter.
Since much has transpired since then, I will start with an episode from last week. Halloween. An over rated, ridiculous American holiday which we have no reason to adopt. That said, for the first time ever, this year I actually enjoyed my self. This was though achieved with copious amounts of alcohol and an outfit to put most to shame. Yes, I mean you over there who applied a bit of ketchup to your neck or a bandage around your head, make an effort if you're going to bother at all.
So, now it's over, as is bonfire night (a real, English, reason to have some sort of social event). Winter has well and truly come knocking, we've had floods and snow around the country already and remembering the hell of last years three months of white, people are quaking in their new fortified snow boots. On the upside to this - yes, /I/ am offering an upside, don't worry, I'm quite well - Christmas is just around the corner and this year I find it hard to be as scrooge like as I would have hoped. Despite being poor and not being able to buy for more than one person, I am truly looking forward to it. I feel I should give something here that is cheerful and uplifting, or a reason, but I struggle to do so, so I shan't.
One final thing. I think that today has been the most adult one of my life - house browsing for next year. A scary and exciting prospect, but at least I know who I want to be living with and actually like all of them. That's right. Eight relative strangers, all from one flat, and not one that I dislike, it is truly something rare. I feel adopted by them, like a pet maybe?
Off I go to curl up and sleep on their floor...
Tuesday, 26 October 2010
Logic, obviously.
Today I learned some wonderfully interesting facts about middle English language and dialect and it's bearing in today's language. Or at least, I would have, if it weren't for an intense set of races drawing my attention. Races in which I participated in, competing violently with a huge monkey and a moonlighting Italian-American plumber. For any of you out there who do not understand the reference, shame on you, I blame your parents.
After being told that we need not make notes in lectures and that everything we need is available to read online, it begs the question. What really is the point? Many people, myself amongst them, find lectures a tedious waste of time. We can just as easily teach ourselves at home, with more willingness and less early mornings. A prime example of the sheer pointlessness of some lectures was outlined with crystal clarity for me on Thursday morning at 9am, the lecturer stood at the front and genuinely said the words, "A proper noun, begins with a capital letter." Well. I wanted to run down the isle and punch him in the face, or at least join the queue to do so. All said though, I suppose I can take some consolidation in the fact I'm not having to pay £12,000 for this waste of time, unlike those wanting to go to University in 2012, you poor buggers.
Unfortunately, seen as I have delved someway into politics there, I shall continue on the subject of the spending cuts. Now before any of my left wing colleagues prepare to throw their organic tofu at me, I do have mixed views on the subject, not complete agreement. Firstly, the Conservatives are doing exactly what they said they'd do, which is cut public spending, and it is necessary, no matter what people say. So in that, I congratulate them for having the balls to be so ruthless and give them a pat on the back.
In the same swing, I take back that pat and sock Mr Cameron in the jaw. Defence cuts? Good lord! Leave us without a pot to piss in why don't you? If anyone can fathom the following, please explain it to me: We are decommissioning the HMS Ark Royal, and building not one, but two aircraft carriers to put in her place. One of which, the HMS Queen Elizabeth, will be mothballed after only a mere three years service, what's the point? It also poses the question, why bother with aircraft carriers when there's no sodding aircraft to launch from them? We originally planned to purchase 138 top of the range fighter jets. We're now buying only 40, and a sub-standard version of what everyone else has. One of the aircraft carriers will only launch American and French jets as we don't have enough. Get your own carriers. I wonder how long it will be before the army resorts to slingshot and stone?
I apologise for the more political level this post has taken, but I feel better for writing it.
Usual service will resume shortly.
After being told that we need not make notes in lectures and that everything we need is available to read online, it begs the question. What really is the point? Many people, myself amongst them, find lectures a tedious waste of time. We can just as easily teach ourselves at home, with more willingness and less early mornings. A prime example of the sheer pointlessness of some lectures was outlined with crystal clarity for me on Thursday morning at 9am, the lecturer stood at the front and genuinely said the words, "A proper noun, begins with a capital letter." Well. I wanted to run down the isle and punch him in the face, or at least join the queue to do so. All said though, I suppose I can take some consolidation in the fact I'm not having to pay £12,000 for this waste of time, unlike those wanting to go to University in 2012, you poor buggers.
Unfortunately, seen as I have delved someway into politics there, I shall continue on the subject of the spending cuts. Now before any of my left wing colleagues prepare to throw their organic tofu at me, I do have mixed views on the subject, not complete agreement. Firstly, the Conservatives are doing exactly what they said they'd do, which is cut public spending, and it is necessary, no matter what people say. So in that, I congratulate them for having the balls to be so ruthless and give them a pat on the back.
In the same swing, I take back that pat and sock Mr Cameron in the jaw. Defence cuts? Good lord! Leave us without a pot to piss in why don't you? If anyone can fathom the following, please explain it to me: We are decommissioning the HMS Ark Royal, and building not one, but two aircraft carriers to put in her place. One of which, the HMS Queen Elizabeth, will be mothballed after only a mere three years service, what's the point? It also poses the question, why bother with aircraft carriers when there's no sodding aircraft to launch from them? We originally planned to purchase 138 top of the range fighter jets. We're now buying only 40, and a sub-standard version of what everyone else has. One of the aircraft carriers will only launch American and French jets as we don't have enough. Get your own carriers. I wonder how long it will be before the army resorts to slingshot and stone?
I apologise for the more political level this post has taken, but I feel better for writing it.
Usual service will resume shortly.
Saturday, 16 October 2010
Bad Habits
A first year student, not yet a month into my first term and I have already picked up some terrible habits. And I don’t believe I am the only one.
Myself and my fellow students, as far as I can discern, are all now masters of procrastination. I cannot count the amount of times that I have heard the words, “Oh I’ve got /so/ much work to do.” And in saying such, do we sit down and crack on with it like sensible people? Of course not. Don’t be silly. We put it off as long as we can and then fight under pressure to get it all done, it seems to be the way things operate.
I seem to have the most incredible talent for falling through manure and coming out smelling of roses. Relying on this, I am trying my damned hardest to coast at the moment and hope for the best. We’ll see how this holds up... (I’m guessing that I’m in for a shock). I know I’m not the only one either.
Another ‘bad habit’ I seem to have gained, is the ability to spend money I just don’t have. Before coming to Manchester, I was prudent with money, spending what I needed but always making sure I had enough. Well, that’s gone out of the window. In three weeks I wonder just how much money the local clubs and bars have taken from we first years and our new found love of spending. I’ve considered a budget, but working one out seems too much like hard work in my opinion as a chief procrastinator.
A final point, and one that I cannot omit, has to be my accent. I come from West Yorkshire. I would say I’m from Leeds, as I am prone to doing, but the truth is I am from Bradford. It’s just that no one from Bradford cares to say so, it is not a city to be proud of. Anyway, I digress. The point is, I had a relatively normal (no jokes from the southerners there, please) West Yorkshire accent. However, for some reason since arriving here, I find myself with the broadest Yorkshire accent possible. Why is this? It’s not fierce pride for my home county for sure. I suppose it could be from fear of sounding remotely southern, but it seems a little extreme for that. Either way, I think I need to spend some time back at home to level it out again. I think the point of this little tirade was to see if anyone else has experienced this, or is it just me? Answers on a postcard.
Myself and my fellow students, as far as I can discern, are all now masters of procrastination. I cannot count the amount of times that I have heard the words, “Oh I’ve got /so/ much work to do.” And in saying such, do we sit down and crack on with it like sensible people? Of course not. Don’t be silly. We put it off as long as we can and then fight under pressure to get it all done, it seems to be the way things operate.
I seem to have the most incredible talent for falling through manure and coming out smelling of roses. Relying on this, I am trying my damned hardest to coast at the moment and hope for the best. We’ll see how this holds up... (I’m guessing that I’m in for a shock). I know I’m not the only one either.
Another ‘bad habit’ I seem to have gained, is the ability to spend money I just don’t have. Before coming to Manchester, I was prudent with money, spending what I needed but always making sure I had enough. Well, that’s gone out of the window. In three weeks I wonder just how much money the local clubs and bars have taken from we first years and our new found love of spending. I’ve considered a budget, but working one out seems too much like hard work in my opinion as a chief procrastinator.
A final point, and one that I cannot omit, has to be my accent. I come from West Yorkshire. I would say I’m from Leeds, as I am prone to doing, but the truth is I am from Bradford. It’s just that no one from Bradford cares to say so, it is not a city to be proud of. Anyway, I digress. The point is, I had a relatively normal (no jokes from the southerners there, please) West Yorkshire accent. However, for some reason since arriving here, I find myself with the broadest Yorkshire accent possible. Why is this? It’s not fierce pride for my home county for sure. I suppose it could be from fear of sounding remotely southern, but it seems a little extreme for that. Either way, I think I need to spend some time back at home to level it out again. I think the point of this little tirade was to see if anyone else has experienced this, or is it just me? Answers on a postcard.
Tuesday, 5 October 2010
Time
“Time you enjoy wasting, was not wasted.” - John Lennon.
This has recently become a favourite quote of mine, not the favourite, but a favourite. I completely agree with it. However, I today learned that time not enjoyed wasting is just boring as hell. Two hours, that is to say one hundred and twenty minutes, this, I believe, is the single most irritating amount of time you can have 'free'. Not long enough to warrant going home and putting your feet up. Yet too long to fill productively. Therefore in my final thirty minutes of this space of time, I write you this.
In my bored wanderings I happened across the Manchester Museum which is currently running a small, and disappointing, exhibition on treasures and artifacts from ancient China. Unfortunately for me in my rather vacant state, I walked in just behind a group of primary school children. After five minutes it dawned on me that I looked to be following them, and so, made a fairly awkward and swift exit. Thinking about it, that must have looked just as odd. Perhaps I should move from my seat in the courtyard in which I sit as it is only stones thrown from the museum? (Stones throw seems quite apt.)
My truly appalling skills with regards to I.T. or anything technology based have led to my making some brilliant cock-ups. The seminar I am about to attend did require some work and so I though I could complete it in this woeful two hour stretch? I thought wrong. I arrived at the computer terminal only to realise I didn't have the foggiest idea as to my log in details. To be fair, had I logged in, I would have spent my time fighting with BlackBoard before obliterating the computer for merely existing.
I could, instead, go to my other seminar which I was bright enough to schedule, not only on my busiest day, but at the same time as another. That said, I think I've work to complete for that also, so I shall choose the lesser of two evils.
Finally, and this is the redeeming point of today, I utilised that post office I found three posts back.
Not only now do I run out of paper, but I run out of time. So here I leave you. Judging by sod's law, I'll find the seminar started an hour ago...
This has recently become a favourite quote of mine, not the favourite, but a favourite. I completely agree with it. However, I today learned that time not enjoyed wasting is just boring as hell. Two hours, that is to say one hundred and twenty minutes, this, I believe, is the single most irritating amount of time you can have 'free'. Not long enough to warrant going home and putting your feet up. Yet too long to fill productively. Therefore in my final thirty minutes of this space of time, I write you this.
In my bored wanderings I happened across the Manchester Museum which is currently running a small, and disappointing, exhibition on treasures and artifacts from ancient China. Unfortunately for me in my rather vacant state, I walked in just behind a group of primary school children. After five minutes it dawned on me that I looked to be following them, and so, made a fairly awkward and swift exit. Thinking about it, that must have looked just as odd. Perhaps I should move from my seat in the courtyard in which I sit as it is only stones thrown from the museum? (Stones throw seems quite apt.)
My truly appalling skills with regards to I.T. or anything technology based have led to my making some brilliant cock-ups. The seminar I am about to attend did require some work and so I though I could complete it in this woeful two hour stretch? I thought wrong. I arrived at the computer terminal only to realise I didn't have the foggiest idea as to my log in details. To be fair, had I logged in, I would have spent my time fighting with BlackBoard before obliterating the computer for merely existing.
I could, instead, go to my other seminar which I was bright enough to schedule, not only on my busiest day, but at the same time as another. That said, I think I've work to complete for that also, so I shall choose the lesser of two evils.
Finally, and this is the redeeming point of today, I utilised that post office I found three posts back.
Not only now do I run out of paper, but I run out of time. So here I leave you. Judging by sod's law, I'll find the seminar started an hour ago...
Thursday, 30 September 2010
Observing
Have any of you looked at the sky today? No, I don't mean a brief glimpse to frown at the weather, I mean actually looked?
The answer is probably no. Everyone walks around, consumed in their own business, darting from place to place. All the while, looking down, rarely above eye level. Why is this? When it means that we miss so much.
For some reason today, whilst lost in my own thoughts, walking to university, I looked up. There is of course that this is due to the fact I have ridiculous hair and therefore hampered peripheral vision meaning I have to physically move my head. But whatever the cause, I'm glad I did. It wasn't just the vivid blue sky, but also the buildings! When walking along the high street, do any of you look up and beyond the sign of whatever shop it is you happen to be passing? Well you should, there are some things really not to be missed.
As I sit here in my lecture writing this post, which I will later put down online, listening to the professor who sounds much like Tom Hanks, I realise how odd this sounds. I don't mean for you to walk along with your head in the clouds, but just to take a couple of moments on your journey to really look at where you are.
Is this why some people actually /enjoy/ walking places? Am I going to become one of these people? Well you know what, maybe it wouldn't be all so bad.
The answer is probably no. Everyone walks around, consumed in their own business, darting from place to place. All the while, looking down, rarely above eye level. Why is this? When it means that we miss so much.
For some reason today, whilst lost in my own thoughts, walking to university, I looked up. There is of course that this is due to the fact I have ridiculous hair and therefore hampered peripheral vision meaning I have to physically move my head. But whatever the cause, I'm glad I did. It wasn't just the vivid blue sky, but also the buildings! When walking along the high street, do any of you look up and beyond the sign of whatever shop it is you happen to be passing? Well you should, there are some things really not to be missed.
As I sit here in my lecture writing this post, which I will later put down online, listening to the professor who sounds much like Tom Hanks, I realise how odd this sounds. I don't mean for you to walk along with your head in the clouds, but just to take a couple of moments on your journey to really look at where you are.
Is this why some people actually /enjoy/ walking places? Am I going to become one of these people? Well you know what, maybe it wouldn't be all so bad.
Tuesday, 28 September 2010
Brockhaus-Grand
"I am Wiebke Brockhaus-Grand, it iz nine o'clock and I am German, my lectures vill start on time."
At 9am the last thing I wanted was a truly frightful man/woman barking at me from the lecture hall. I daren't even doodle. Still, we had a good time trying to discern whether she was male or female, it turns out the latter. Nor was this an English lecture, it was instead more of an anatomy one. I now know more about the larynx, lungs and trachea than I ever cared to, with helpful comments from Adolf Grand such as "and if you aren't breathing, you have trouble." Damn, really?
I now move to the man with the magical voice, a nice man by all accounts, and my final lecturer for the day. He did not have so much a 'boring' voice, but a soothing one, so soothing in fact that I missed the final thirty minutes of his lecture due to being lost in the land of nod. Waking up in a small puddle of drool on my desk and jacket, nice. Suffice to say, my immediate class mates found this rather amusing.
As I type, I look into the eyes of a white tiger and listen to goings on of the rest of the flat. I think things are settling somewhat after freshers, everyone is able to just breathe out and let their livers relax.
All of a sudden though I have noted that there is something wrong with the flat dynamic. I'm not yet sure what, I can't just pin it down, but something is off. I will inform you if I find it. 'Calm before the storm' comes to mind?
I intended to spend this time napping, it has gone well as you see. Instead, I think I'll just inject myself with caffeine? Or drink it. That seems less drastic when I think about it.
Oh, and I found a post office.
At 9am the last thing I wanted was a truly frightful man/woman barking at me from the lecture hall. I daren't even doodle. Still, we had a good time trying to discern whether she was male or female, it turns out the latter. Nor was this an English lecture, it was instead more of an anatomy one. I now know more about the larynx, lungs and trachea than I ever cared to, with helpful comments from Adolf Grand such as "and if you aren't breathing, you have trouble." Damn, really?
I now move to the man with the magical voice, a nice man by all accounts, and my final lecturer for the day. He did not have so much a 'boring' voice, but a soothing one, so soothing in fact that I missed the final thirty minutes of his lecture due to being lost in the land of nod. Waking up in a small puddle of drool on my desk and jacket, nice. Suffice to say, my immediate class mates found this rather amusing.
As I type, I look into the eyes of a white tiger and listen to goings on of the rest of the flat. I think things are settling somewhat after freshers, everyone is able to just breathe out and let their livers relax.
All of a sudden though I have noted that there is something wrong with the flat dynamic. I'm not yet sure what, I can't just pin it down, but something is off. I will inform you if I find it. 'Calm before the storm' comes to mind?
I intended to spend this time napping, it has gone well as you see. Instead, I think I'll just inject myself with caffeine? Or drink it. That seems less drastic when I think about it.
Oh, and I found a post office.
Monday, 27 September 2010
Breaking a Trend
Today I'm afraid I lack inspiration. Whether this is due to the fact I have observed the world through half closed eyes all day or merely that the creative fairies haven't deigned to sprinkle me with magic powder, who knows?
One thing though. It feels damned good to get back to academic work. A wonderfully interesting, if a little slow, lecture today, leaving me now with the task of translating Old English and Early Middle English into present day form. Sadly I find this fascinating.
I haven't yet found a post office around here, but then, with all the Eco-friendly groups and societies maybe they've decided that using paper at all is a sin? I'm having trouble adjusting to this recycling lark, there are more bins than you can shake a stick at, and at least three for that stick once you're done shaking it.
Hmm, this is quite possibly procrastination, is there a test I can take to see if it is?
And now I run out of things to say, I shan't post again until I have something you'll enjoy reading. And I will be sure to include my mildly amusing story about some turkey broth.
One thing though. It feels damned good to get back to academic work. A wonderfully interesting, if a little slow, lecture today, leaving me now with the task of translating Old English and Early Middle English into present day form. Sadly I find this fascinating.
I haven't yet found a post office around here, but then, with all the Eco-friendly groups and societies maybe they've decided that using paper at all is a sin? I'm having trouble adjusting to this recycling lark, there are more bins than you can shake a stick at, and at least three for that stick once you're done shaking it.
Hmm, this is quite possibly procrastination, is there a test I can take to see if it is?
And now I run out of things to say, I shan't post again until I have something you'll enjoy reading. And I will be sure to include my mildly amusing story about some turkey broth.
Sunday, 26 September 2010
Normality
Define it for me? Normality. The most subjective word in the English Language as far as I'm concerned.
A little profound, I know, and I apologise. But see. People each have their own normality, and it is only from talking with other people and observing their lives from afar that I really come to understand this.
You may look at someone other than your self's situation, whatever that situation may be, and think 'Damn, that must be hard.' When in truth, there is every chance they look at you in the same way, and therein lies my point and the round about way I've reached it. Your normality is not the same as someone else's, to think otherwise is the stem of so many problems. Racial, religious, even just simple stereotypes. There are people who believe their lives are normal, they are how thigs /should/ be and that anything else is alien. It is not.
Normality is but a synonym for arrogance as far as I can fathom.
I was inspired the other day, by the brief and summised glimpse I got into the life of James Lipton, a true icon and my all time idol. I think I shall write more often, though not in such a manner as this I think. People need not worry, it was just something that hit me whilst washing pans in the kitchen.
A little profound, I know, and I apologise. But see. People each have their own normality, and it is only from talking with other people and observing their lives from afar that I really come to understand this.
You may look at someone other than your self's situation, whatever that situation may be, and think 'Damn, that must be hard.' When in truth, there is every chance they look at you in the same way, and therein lies my point and the round about way I've reached it. Your normality is not the same as someone else's, to think otherwise is the stem of so many problems. Racial, religious, even just simple stereotypes. There are people who believe their lives are normal, they are how thigs /should/ be and that anything else is alien. It is not.
Normality is but a synonym for arrogance as far as I can fathom.
I was inspired the other day, by the brief and summised glimpse I got into the life of James Lipton, a true icon and my all time idol. I think I shall write more often, though not in such a manner as this I think. People need not worry, it was just something that hit me whilst washing pans in the kitchen.
Saturday, 25 September 2010
*Sigh*
Right, ok, I have admittedly jumped on the blogging bandwagon. But, whilst sat here in my room, devoid of my new flat mates to talk to as they all have things to do and people to see apparently, I realised it’s something to suppress the boredom, other than YouTube and 4OD. Sigh.
So what to say? Do I talk about my mundane life and happenings? But of course! Why else would you be reading this if not simply to be nosy? Shame on you all. (Even if I am secretly grateful).
It’s been a somewhat eventful week truth be told. Moving to university is a fairly hectic thing it seems, mainly due to the chaos which is fresher’s week, in which I have been absolutely hammered nearly every night this week. It also turns out that northerners really can out drink these namby southerners, the same namby southerners who can’t leave my accent alone and seem to believe I’m from Scotland when they attempt to take it off. They’re a good bunch all in all though.
My flat is really quite diverse, and yet we all get along, unlike most of the other flats in the block it seems. Very strange. I feel odd in saying this but I do actually like them all as well, an achievement on my part I think.
I’m wondering what actually doing some work again will feel like, at the moment the thought alone seems alien to me. Heaven forbid I’d have taken a gap year! The course looks fairly interesting though, so hopefully that should spur me on. I attended the awkward ‘meet and greet’ party, though I did soon find a friend in the mature student on my course who has just moved over from America. She no doubt felt more awkward than I. I do wish I could remember her name; there was definitely an M in there somewhere.
One last little rant before I leave you to go back to your lives. Manchester its self. I struggle now to find an appropriate adjective for the place. So far, in the immediate vicinity, there have been two rapes, a mugging, someone stealing laptops and I myself have witnessed a fight on the top of a bus over someone’s coat, as well as being involved in one myself. (That sounds somewhat dramatic, I am quite unharmed, I just broke it apart.)
Anyway, I treat you with indifference and leave you. No doubt I’ll post again soon enough, but I’m sure you’ll live if I don’t.
So what to say? Do I talk about my mundane life and happenings? But of course! Why else would you be reading this if not simply to be nosy? Shame on you all. (Even if I am secretly grateful).
It’s been a somewhat eventful week truth be told. Moving to university is a fairly hectic thing it seems, mainly due to the chaos which is fresher’s week, in which I have been absolutely hammered nearly every night this week. It also turns out that northerners really can out drink these namby southerners, the same namby southerners who can’t leave my accent alone and seem to believe I’m from Scotland when they attempt to take it off. They’re a good bunch all in all though.
My flat is really quite diverse, and yet we all get along, unlike most of the other flats in the block it seems. Very strange. I feel odd in saying this but I do actually like them all as well, an achievement on my part I think.
I’m wondering what actually doing some work again will feel like, at the moment the thought alone seems alien to me. Heaven forbid I’d have taken a gap year! The course looks fairly interesting though, so hopefully that should spur me on. I attended the awkward ‘meet and greet’ party, though I did soon find a friend in the mature student on my course who has just moved over from America. She no doubt felt more awkward than I. I do wish I could remember her name; there was definitely an M in there somewhere.
One last little rant before I leave you to go back to your lives. Manchester its self. I struggle now to find an appropriate adjective for the place. So far, in the immediate vicinity, there have been two rapes, a mugging, someone stealing laptops and I myself have witnessed a fight on the top of a bus over someone’s coat, as well as being involved in one myself. (That sounds somewhat dramatic, I am quite unharmed, I just broke it apart.)
Anyway, I treat you with indifference and leave you. No doubt I’ll post again soon enough, but I’m sure you’ll live if I don’t.
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