(I am getting worse at thinking of the long titles, so have a cheap version 😉 ) Hello! Join us over at Conversion Diary to touch on our weeks.
My society count has almost gone up this year – certainly, I’m doing a whole range of different things, but I seem to be doing more of them, whilst last year I quickly found myself abandoning societies with whom I’d always intended to have some relationship. Annoyingly, I have rather congested weeks, with Monday and Friday evenings being weekly free (but with the possibility of being filled with extra things), but Tuesday, and particularly Wednesday and Thursdays being one-after-the-other filled. I’ll have to get used to this new priorities, but, after a summer of being laptop-based, I think I’m ready to spend some more time elsewhere.
By the time you read this, I will probably have already set off for my second swing dancing of the week. Granted, the first was a lesson we ran and mainly for beginners, though I did learn an improvement on my basics. Nevertheless, it’s easy to feel busy from hurrying back and forth.
For me, Quidditch has restarted for the term. We have a whole crop of potential players at Reading. Very exciting! We don’t have any matches immediately, but no doubt a few are scheduled between the captains.
Speaking on rushing about, my Thursdays now consist of about 3-4 hours of singing in the pre/evening. Busy, yes, but also SO much fun. One of the pieces the full chorus is singing is this jazz piece Freedom by Duke Ellington. The video below recounts all three movements, but you can get a feel for the theme by listening to just the beginning. As it’s jazz, every video and performance and interpretation is different, so if you like the song, I’d recommend looking around for different arrangements of the band and the swing notes and personal ornamentations of the choir.
Did I mention it is JAZZ!
Crunchy, no? I am very enthused. There’s a top C in that first movement already!
School. I had my first week of second year lectures-and-seminars this week, which accounts for the lack of posting.
As I type this, I’m sat sipping Starbucks after my Visual Word Recognition lecture. Because the module titles for me as a joint student are so vague (‘cognition and neuroscience’), I didn’t know what to expect, but word recognition is resemblant of the topics I address on this blog, if in more neurochemical and neurotheoretical depth.
I’m going to Thorpe Park tomorrow! (That’s a popular theme park, for those of you who aren’t Brits.) It’s one of my close friends’ birthday, so we’re meeting up. As such, however, I lose another Saturday/weekend.
I did a little bit of writing. Sometimes the mind wanders, and I have been thinking about extranarrative (‘metanarrative‘ writing is something completely different, sadly) and symbolic points of novels (see yesterday’s post) instead of straight fiction prose. I almost have some semblance of chapter two with this introduction of Jess’ tutor. This is also the first time the eponymous archaeology building is featured. As always with these Friday exclusives: first draft stuff, and comments are always welcome.
“Are you okay?”
Jess swallowed and peeked through the freckled pane of the door. Laurie had vanished. She bit her lip. Terrible that she had faltered at his sight alone, but she turned even pinker at the thought that she forced herself into hiding from him. Ridiculous.
“Yes.” Speaking drove the clot from her voice-box. “I’m a Fresh— ahem, a first year, and I’m looking for, uhh, Ground 23. Dr. Rowse’s lecture on Bones, Bodies, Burials. He’s my personal tutor, too.”
Mirth bloomed in the sharp green eyes looking down at her, as doom opened its fat lips and swallowed Jess whole. She’d probably stepped into the wrong building and all.
“Easy mistake to make.” The woman flicked up her shawl over her shoulders and gestured forward. “This way.”
Jess hurried along her strides. “Excuse me–“
Her voice caught. Jess flinched – blinked, almost – at movements from the towers of floors above. The Carrington consisted of three vaguely-modern levels with narrow, white-stoned stairs that her shoes clicked rebelliously against. As Ground 23 was, predictably, on the ground floor, the woman pushed on through the maze. The walls turned from off-white paste to brick upon brick under Jess’ scrutiny, and she sighed with relief. The Carrington was as soft inside as its archaic exterior hinted. Minus those blank-faced stairwells and entrances.
That’s it from me for now. I’ll check in with you lovely readers on Monday. Have a good weekend!