ARO

- I am proud of myself for facing my fear of the library and tackling a ton of books for my dissertation today. However, my brain doesn't seem to have exercised this muscle much for now looking at this pile of books after a break, its refusing to work. It jumps straight into 'panic' mode. Not the gasping for breathe, hyperventilating sort of panic, but the ah my brain is too full of information and I can't figure out how to sort it panic, so that I literally can't read non-fiction anymore. Hence the last hour I've been reading up on how to approach slightly aggressive rabbits and getting really excited for Harry Potter 7 Pt 2. WEll I have a whole pile of books I suddenly want to read, but now have to wait until after dissertation.

+ Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norell-- a book about magic, leant to me by Fran's mama. Its huge, but it looks fascinating
+ Virginia Wolfe, Women and Fiction-- its music to my soul, but I've only had it in snatches. Can't wait to devour this book.

When I first read Virginia Wolfe, I was very skeptical. When I read A Room of One's Own, I was still uncertain. I found the style beautiful, lurid, lyrical. But I wasn't sure it was true. After four weeks on the move, with no room, with no place to put down my books, to sit down and write, to compile my thoughts or compose my infamous to-do lists, I've found Wolfe to be spot on. I'm not sure how it is with others, but for me, to truly write, to truly tackle a literary subject, I must have a space of my own, to unpack and uncoil, dive-- both into the subject I'm reading and to find what my thoughts are about this subject. To discover what I think, is by far, the most suprising and most rewarding. So. Has been galloping off to another country, constiuting a debt the size of the Malfoy Manor, to struggle against an academic system unfamiliar and humiliating-- has it been worth it? Moments with my window open, a light breeze nosing through, the sun setting behind the church steeple, and to be entirely at the beck and call of only to myself is utterly luxurious, and seem like rich rich soil in which a foundling plant is to thrive.