And there she was ablogging again

It's a bitterly cold Sunday afternoon. The kind where it's as if someone from up above is ordering you to curl up in bed and do your readings in the feeble light that envelopes your poor trembling body. The weather has been having some schizophrenia issues, as is quite usual, and it was rather sunny for a couple of hours. I was tempted to sleep but my conscience kept nagging me so I went on with the German book we have to read for the German Circle course i'm taking. We had the 'prize day' last Wednesday and it kind of made me feel guilty about how much I've been giving German the cold shoulder lately, especially since they awarded me a lovely book complete with full colour pictures weehey! It's something about Thomas Mann and his life. Hmmm sounds very uppaclass to me. They also gave us Gluehwein, which is basically mulled wine, and let me say it's the only wine I've ever tasted that I've actually enjoyed savouring, so that was uppaclass too. Anyways this book that I'm reading is called 'Der Schimmelreiter', which means the rider of a kind of horse called a Schimmel (don't ask. I don't know). It's about this dykemaster in a seemingly rather remote village in the north east of Germany, and it's a rather unfamiliar subject, but thankfully I'm getting on quite well. The secret is this: Forget the dictionary. You don't have to understand everything. Otherwise you'll never manage to finish the book and, even if you do, you'll have died of dictionary- induced boredom beforehand, so you won't finish it in any case.

In other news, today I wrote a poem. I think it's the second one after the first I wrote eight years ago. Wow at this rate of production I shall soon be elected Poet Laureate. I presume it could very well be epic crap (and no it's not an epic) yet I am still rather filled with glee at the whole affair. I even tried to work a little with technique (big word about which I hardly know anything but anyways): I even tried to do something with the rhyme and even counted the syllables of a line that sounded epically crap to see how I could change it. I had no idea what on earth I was doing but I still thoroughly luurved the feeling. Gotta start doing it a bit oftener than once every eight years.

A few minutes ago I saw a rainbow yet now it's getting dark and the sky has turned a stern and forboding steely grey. Do you know that this is the darkest week of the year, leading up to the shortest day ie the winter solstice ie 21st December? I think I'm right. In other updates, yesterday was an enjoyable night out despite the cold and the stupid argument with dear Desiree. I hadn't spent time with dear sweet Claire for quite a while, and hence it was well worth the seemingly sub-Alaskan temperatures and the lame Pacevillian spots :)

Lastly: I'd like to congratulate Salt, of whom my brother is the uppaclass bassist, for winning the best Newcomer BMA, and deservedly too! To check out their music go to http://www.myspace.com/saltsound

Post-lastly: Radiohead have a new album out! It's been out online for a while: and I have absolutely fallen in love with this song. Exquisite!

That's all for now. Hope you are having a lovely Christmas season.
Take care,
Lizzy
xxx

The Uppaclass Song

Even though this song is not called the Uppaclass Song, I still deemed it most suitable to grace the (web)pages of this noble endeavour, this instant of quintessential uppaclassness that is this weblog. For all those who do not have the luck to be very closely acquainted with me, Uppaclassness is a term coined by yours truly, which is derived from the commonly used phrase upper class. This term was found most fit to describe every aspect that has any remote connection to yours truly ,who happens to be Uppaclassness Personified. And now onto our (yes it's the royal we!) first attempt to embed a video. God help us, or our uppaclassness shall be shattered immediately!

Oh dear, said video refuses to be uploaded. So here's the link: The Sophistication Song by Hugh Laurie

Enjoyy
Liz
xxx

Flitting randomness

I've been trying to avoid the glaring fact that I did not come home so unspeakably late from work and I should try to squeeze in some reading for almost an hour now, yet I am so tired. I haven't blogged for almost a month but I do not know what I should write. Thoughts flit about in my head all day long but then when it comes to writing a substantial and coherent blog, I find myself at a loss. Now my best friend is online, which means my shortcomings in the multi-tasking department are now on full display: the quality of my blog is suffering in a most terrible manner. I'm trying to think of something I could write to send it in , maybe they'd consider it for the possibly, hopefully, soon to materialize DESA publication. DESA is short for Department of English Students Association, which has been launched very recently. I'm really happy we finally have some people who are trying to make us feel more at home in our course, and I'd like to contribute, even if just a little bit. hmm let's see if I come up with something at least remotely interesting...

Today was a cold bright day, the kind of weather I absolutely love. After work I had one of those comically unfortunate moments. I waited for the bus on the dull grey San Gwannian pavement, looking longingly at the colourful but deserted swings for a full half hour, which for a person overwhelmed by her own uppa' classness is most unacceptable and abominable. I was understandably bored, and so I decided to walk a little to see whether the bus would finally grace the mediocre road with its mediocre presence. Alas! The bus came rattling furiously along the mediocre street just then and even though I gave my athletic all, I did not manage to catch it. Hence I simply decided to walk to university and for once I did not get lost and/or risk my life, even though it's not exactly the most idyllic ramble imaginable.

Some more randomness: I have today rediscovered the Sugababes. You know, they're actually GOOD. I think they're very up n' happening, as my sister would say. Good intelligent pop for the 21st century. This was their very first song. I don't know if it was the 21st century yet when it was released, yet it struck me as being of a quite uppa' class nature.

I'm off now, to have a bath and maybe, just maybe, do sumfing of an academic nature.
Till next time,
take care and enjoy the Christmas fever
Liz
xxx

Uni-less blog attempt 2

Does anyone know how you can transfer everything to the new email account? I know you can transfer the contacts etc but can you transfer the blog? as an archive in a new url or something? I hate having two accounts. My brain cells are already scattered all over the place as things are. Oh God who's gonna comment anyway?

Yesterday I watched TWO emo couples smooching rather ungracefully on the bus. It put me off love for a while.

I have just seen one of the most cringeworthy covers ever. Malta's very own national icon of pre-pubescent pretentiousness, Sophie, covering one of the most cringeworthy and absurd songs to ever pollute the radiowaves- Fergalicious by Fergie. And you haven't heard the worst part yet. She turned it into Sophalicious!!!!! Atrocities of three hundred and sixty degrees' eye-rolling extent!!! Suddenly I'm so happy I was a frizzy-haired nerd when I was young.

uni-less blog attempt 1

I have not updated this thing in ages cos I have had the most treacherous thoughts against it. I recently got me a new google account. Bunbury09 did not seem professional enough in my dealings with the university so I had to get an email address that sounded serious- so I got me elgalea. With elgalea came a new account which was separate from the one to which this blog pertains, so my loyalty was tested haha. But here I am again, so much has happened. My sister spread her wings and flew to Brussels and I do not know when she'll be back to her beloved island in the sun. She took my laptop with her- and i do not miss the poor thing (the laptop I mean, not my sister) so much because it was a rather functional relationship that we had. Now I have my sister's computer instead. It is incredibly slow but its clumsiness is somehow endearing, and reminds me of someone....hint,hint... hinting at myself if you haven't noticed.

A friend dared me to write an entry without mentioning uni and this obviously put a total nerd like me at a loss. But let's talk about work. I'm working twice a week proofreading and subbing at a newspaper. It's a nice job cos it's rather interesting and it's in a quiet office with civilised people rather than in a wild classroom with sex-crazed foreigners with strangely comical accents. Moreover, I only go in twice a week so I can still manage to be a full-time student (i HAD to mention uni!). On Saturdays I'm alone downstairs except for my dear boss (if you could call her so, she's so sweet!) who comes at some point in the morning/afternoon. I love mumbling and muttering a commentary to the press releases on the computer screen rather than delivering a lesson. I'm so happy that I chose to abandon teaching- It is quite irreconcilable with my character, for want of a better word.

Going out is not so high on my list lately cos I've had it up to here with Paceville- th smell of wine, the same songs over and over again, the never-ending waiting for the flippin' vans and taxis, the angry woman at wembley's, the .. aargh never mind.. I've just had enough. Which sucks because I'm an abysmal driver and I won't get my licence anytime soon. I did manage to skip pv for three weekends though. One weekend we watched Atonement, the next we dined at Marsaxlokk for Demelsa's birthday and this one I stayed at home. Call me old, but I was looking forward to it. I know I'm a rather boring friend to have at the moment but I think Claire and Desiree went out anyway so that's good.

Signing off now because I have some important stuff to finish before I travel to the Land of Nod. And ps, I have to mention uni to say- I'm really really happy with my course. wiiiii

Take care

Lizzy

And it's official!!!

I'm in second year!!! As an Honours student in English!!! I am so happy!!! Will obviously still be conditional until I get what I need- which, being a minimum of a compensated pass in the missing 4 credits I have, won't be that hard hehe!

I am so grateful! I was literally trying to restrain my beaming and grinning in the Dean's office last Friday. :D :D Life can sometimes be rosy too.

:D :D :D

How many smileys can I put in this blog without making it look dumb?

Today was a lovely day. I spent the afternoon deciding exactly what study-units I shall be taking and this process, though rather stressful and mind-boggling, just made me even happier, since it made the good news truly sink in.

And so that's it- no more rants about dreading teaching and detesting Educational Theory. No more trudging through a course I can't stand. Now I'm following the only course I ever really wanted to follow. I hope everything will turn out ok:)

Today I also rediscovered the joy of cycling. I hadn't riden for about 3 or 4 years and finally I mounted my brother's mountain bike (I've outgrown my Raleigh). At first I was very very wobbly, clumsy and shaky but then I started to really enjoy it. I revelled in the sensation of freedom and quiet solitude and rode to Bormla and back. I still have not figured out how to use the gears though and this gave me a few problems on a couple of slopes ( Yeah, Fgura is very hilly and green and all that). Besides, I also acquired my first sports 'injury'- may I be so pertinent as to reveal that my derriere still hurts? hehe, it does. I'm so proud of myself. I shall be named Sportswoman of the year for sure. I definitely plan on repeating this every weekend. Lance Armstrong need not worry too much though- I do not intend to dominate the Tour de France just yet. Oh wait, I think Mr. Armstrong has retired. Which makes that attempt at humour outdated. Sigh.

I have to sign off now, because the next few days are going to be rather hectic. Excuse the fragmented nature of this blog but I do not lie when I say that I am busy.

ps 1 Watch Atonement- powerful, beautifully photographed, scripted, acted, edited, directed, scored (??? what kinf of word is this???)- you get my drift- this film is seriously beautiful and I hope it shall be duly rewarded come awards time.

ps 2 My current theme song is 'I want to ride my bicycle' by Queen. :D :D :D... yes, more smileys.

ps 3 My brother's blog is very interesting for anyone interested in marketing, advertising, the works.

ps 4 My sister's blog has a nice poem in it.

ps 5 Go read them:)

Till next time,
take care
Liz
xxx

Stormy night

More rain. And thunder. and lightning. I wish I could write a lot today- So much is passing through the corridors of my brain, yet I do not have much time. I still have to read a few pages for my German literature lecture tomorrow. We're starting the Romantik which, believe it or not, means Romanticism in English!!! Now I shall feel so smug and smart just because we already studied Romanticism in English, and I'll have this infantile urge to butt in whenever our lecturer asks us something, but I won't fall for this urge, because it's infantile, cringeworthy and stupid. The worst thing that can befall those who study ANYTHING is that they feel they know a lot, which they don't. With Literature the temptation is even bigger, since literature makes people feel cool and artistic, a cut above the rest. The thing that most people fail to notice is that it is not how many writers and film directors you can squeeze into your hi5 profile, it is not how knowledgeable you are, but how much you can truly distinguish quality from mediocrity, and how humbly you can ultimately admit to your own glaring limits that truly matters. I'm not saying I do not sometimes stumble into this trap, but i try to avoid it like the plague.

Dad just said that it shall rain a lot tomorrow, which means I'll wear my new boots. Yes, I managed to find even nicer ones than the aforementioned elusive pair! Peacocks is turning out to be rather awesome shoe-wise, I must say. However, in spite of the excitement about the gorgeous boots, I'd prefer sun any day. October sun is so kind.

In other, more important news, I finally have a definite date for the confirmation regarding my course (ref. earlier posts). Next Thursday Senate will decide. And yes, I am level-headed enough to know they're not meeting for my sake, but just because it happens that they're scheduled to meet. According to the Dean, I have a strong argument, since I almost have the 65% needed even with 4 ECTS missing, let alone with them. Yet I can only pray and hope for the best. If the worst comes to the worst, I'll be a part-time first year by next week, looking for a job and feeling useless and unemployed. Yes, because if I am relegated to first year, my workload will be three lectures a week, since I've done practically everything already. Aargh. We shall see. Please God please. I want this course. I truly do.

PS At the moment I'm reading 'A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man' by James Joyce and it makes me want to weep. It's so good. so very good. One just knows this man's not bluffing and blabbering. Perceptive and focused. A true artist. Lucky him.

ps 2 I am rediscovering Travis' 'The Man Who'. Travis were the first real band I liked after thankfully recovering from my Westlife/ Backstreet Boys phase, and listening to them obviously comes with a lot of nostalgia. Yet, it is not merely nostalgia. They were really good in a very simple, genuine and earnest way, and they also had the much-yearned for dose of wistfulness. Exquisite. Here's a sweet taste: lovely lovely song called Driftwood

I truly wish I could have written a less hurried and fragmented post yet it's very late, and I have lectures till seven tomorrow so I need to get some sleep.

Is this my idea of a short, quick entry? I need a course in summarizing :D. I enjoy this blogging thing soo much- self-centred little brat that I am!

Really off now,

Take care,
Liz
xxxx

Rain

I love watching the rain,
And the way it glistens on the window pane.

OMG OMG that actually rhymes!!! I can actually claim, with an irrepressible grin stretching from one side of my face to the other, like one of my nicer, more polite Italian students once did, that:

I IZ GENIUS IN ENGLISH!!!

Yes, notice the irony contained so neatly in the grammatical mistake shown above. Wish all my students were at least half as nice. Alas, they weren't.

PS do not worry, I know I iz not genius in English. I iz only genius in everything!

Just kidding:D

Till next time,
take care
Lizzy

Sugar!

I had a bad day today. Six lectures one straight after the other, four of which were in the same room and all German, which made me harbour rather violent feelings towards the younger Elizabeth who insisted on loving the teutonic tongue so blindly. And my throat felt like two cavernous holes- it was so terribly swollen. I'm trying to blog with this song in the background so I might not be so fluent. Who said that women are great at multi-tasking? I have no idea how to do anything much with music on. Whenever I'm blogging or chatting with music on, I run a rather high risk of typing the words of the song rather than my own words of wisdom, which of course might lead to great rebellions by the reading throngs, who so want to read MY words. In fact the song finished now and I'm not playing any more. Don't want to risk the wrath of the mob. It's this brilliant cover Radiohead did of Carly Simon's 'Nobody Does it Better'. I know the two seem rather incongruent but RH pulled it off brilliantly as usual. Those guys are so good at what they do. They earnestly work hard and strive for excellence. Rare species. Yet they do seem to overthink things sometimes. They seem to have an existential crisis after every album they release. Or maybe they just take a long holiday in the sun and forget their Britishness after every album. Perhaps that's why they take so long.

Lately I have been blogging with less ardour because I do not find the energy to write good blogs which have a point anymore. I just write that I did this, and then that, and then that and then nothing else. Then again, that's what I always wrote. I shall sleep soon. I have to wake up and read read read tomorrow. But it doesn't matter because I'm so happy in this course. I'll be happier if they confirm though. They phoned from the Registry today to check which lectures I am attending. They know about me, they said. Sugar!( as Ms. Bagley likes to say) Ms. Bagley is my phonetics and phonology lecturer and she is one of the sweetest lecturers ever. She sends emails with such nice little messages attached to them: "I am afraid that I need to postpone today’s lecture in the afternoon as my respiratory system is under siege by alien bodies fondly known as ‘bugs’, and phonation is seriously compromised"

She has such joie de vivre :D, something her area of specialization seems to seriously lack.

I would also like to announce that Fry and Laurie have made their way into my dreams with the stellar "There ain't but one way". I actually dreamt about them and I could hear the song in the dream, with a country setting and all! woohoo! or should I say 'Sugar!' According to Desiree, I officially have psychological disturbances. Alas, genius will always be misunderstood ;p

I have to go now, moping and lamenting the loss of a heavenly pair of boots from Peacocks- they did not have my size- even my feet are common! I needed those boots so badly! Grrr!

BTW I put up a link to my brother's blog. It's not about his personal life in the shadow of his mighty sister Liz, but it's about advertising, and it's a joint venture with a friend of his, Janice. Check it out!

Am off now, because my sister is whining insufferably about losing her Revlon lipliner, and because I am looking forward to my first long sleep in what feels like centuries. No uni tomorrow. I'll read read read, so maybe one day I'll shove something into this little mind :D

Till next time,
take care

Lizzy
xxx

Should be off to sleep

I have just been eating the most heavenly tiny tub of strawberry yoghurt ever. I now know what I shall say if I ever become famous for something and they ask me one of those silly questions like "What do you want your last meal on Earth to be?". I want it to be standing in the kitchen at midnight eating unassuming, simple, wholesome ice cold strawberry yoghurt WITHOUT actual pieces of strawberry.

I'm happy these days. Sometimes restless, sometimes scared, sometimes longing stupidly and impossibly for impossible things, yet I'm happy. Today Dr. Callus saw me in the corridor and asked me how I was doing, and told me to go talk to him in his office tomorrow, just to keep him updated with my situation. It was very kind of him. I hope everything shall be okay. I'm really really happy in B.A. English. It's just worth the hard work. I hope they'll let me stay in second year, even though I seem to have acquired a calmness that is astounding me and I've quit worrying about the whole thing.

I shall sign off now, not a particularly remarkable blog, but I just felt like writing something down. And this song reminds me of when I was around fourteen and used to dream of having perfect days and walks in the parks with some great guy I was madly in love with. Dear me, I think I still dream that. Don't know what's with this video though. Lots of shoes.

Till next time
Take care
Lizzy

Pardon the restless girl.

I obviously did not manage to write a short blog. I read a lot of blogs. Yes, I know, I need a life! But blogs are interesting. They say a lot about what people want to be. We all want to be as interesting and well-written as our blogs. We write them in English, like the books we have grown up reading, so that our life seems like a book, reads like an interesting little story, with characters, events and ideas worth mentioning. But real life can be dull. It is usually lived in short, snappy sentences rather than long pretty ones. I was so restless tonight. I signed off MSN quite a while ago, saying I'll be off to sleep, but I just can't. I'm so restless, excitable. I'm still not 100% sure as regards whether I'm first or second year. When all seemed lost, and I was ready to repeat everything, I talked to Dr.Callus and he took me to the Dean, who turned out to be very very helpful! Apparently my grades are good enough to get me into Honours as a sort of conditional student. All I need is a compensated pass in the 4 ects I did not do, since they weren't part of the Education course, and I'll have enough. Hopefully I'll get more than a compensated pass though:). The Dean is sure that Mr.Registrar will let me, as long as I do the German general programme, just in case I fail those 4 ects. In the meantime, I am attending both the English Honours lectures and the German General ones, as well as the first year lectures that I missed, and thankfully I'm managing without too many clashes. Hope for the best. Dear me, writing about uni procedures is the most boring past-time that ever existed this side of planet Ganzwiliomsa. At least, I got that cleared. Doesn't it give you a warm glow that your blog readers know the ambivalence in which your university affairs lie? Especially knowing that if they are not Arts students, they probably still have no idea what you're mumbling on and on about.

Ehh. I started writing this blog tonight because writing is probably the only thing in the world that calms me down, that makes me reconcile my daily day-dreams with everyday reality. I love it so much. Yet I seem to be able to get nothing out of it other than endless journals. Whenever I try to write a story, there's always this big clumsy obstacle in the middle, and that's me. There's just too much Elizabeth in whatever Elizabeth writes. Yes, you might think it impossible that there's such a thing as too much of something as awesome as Elizabeth, but yes there is;p.

Oh Dear I've ended up questioning the motives of this blog. Why do I write this? I've ended up blogging about blogging.

'Tis sad.

Btw My brother is soon debuting in the blogosphere. His blog is going to be a funkeh, high-tech affair for sure. I'll link to it as soon as I have the URL.

Keane were named after a Tennyson poem, 'The Lotus-Eaters', before they changed to Keane. How sweet is that?

Till next time,
Lizzy

A little present cos of crappy post : Dido again

Random blog

I've dared myself to write a short blog, just like those blogs belonging to people who have a life

A big gaping hole

Sometimes it feels like there is a big gaping hole where my life should be. Generally, I'm not sad, mind you, but I spend the major part of my life thinking about the past and dreaming about the future, rather than actually living. Maybe that is why I find it difficult to go to bed and simply lie down to sleep at night- because I want to stay up waiting for life to start. Hmm, which is why I find the title of Keane's first album "Hopes and Fears" more significant than it might seem at face value. The title probably refers to the fact that the album is mostly about their hopes and fears. Obvious enough. However, I like to understand that they felt that their lives had not started yet- they were still enveloped in what they wished for and what they feared- rather than in living that big big thing- Real Life. In fact there are various references to feeling like they're "disappearing" and "fading away" as well as to "aching, waiting for life to start".

Will Real Life ever start? Or is this Real Life? Whiling away the time and trying to cheer myself up by attempting to set up a Hi5 playlist while joking with a dear friend on MSN on a Saturday night in September? Yep, last weekend of the summer holidays and I stayed in. Was too unmotivated to leave the house. But it's no big deal, there will be plenty of time to go out. These past few days my mood had been steadily regressing. Probably it's the fact that I still do not know whether I'll be a first or second year student. At first, they said no but, apparently, now this 'no' has turned into a pending request. At this point you might be thinking that I should actually be hopeful, but there are too many obscure regulations sprouting up all over the place for me to be positive about them letting a former Education student into the second year of the Arts Honours course, despite the fact that I only have 4 measly ECTS credits missing, and a good average (thank God for that). Ah we shall see!

Despite the fact that I have been the proud and loving owner of this laptop for seven months now, (7 months, 1 week and 1 day to be exact- Dear me I need a life!), it is only now that it passed through my dear little head that I can actually watch dvds in the silence of my bedroom, rather than in the computer room/study, which I share with my statistician-brother, and which is in dire need of a door! I've watched a couple of Clive Owen films already *broad smile* and was planning to watch 'One Hour Photo' tonight but, on second thoughts, I did not think that watching a harrowing drama about a man who wishes he had a life was a good idea after I managed to cheer myself up with a little help from Claire (the laughs) and Hi5 (the playlist).

My mood tonight is quietly yet hopelessly romantic and I cannot stop listening to 'Don't Leave Home' by Dido. I wish Dido would roll up her sleeves and release a worthy follow-up to No Angel. I used to love her back then, and I think this song was on that album. I have read some comments that it is not actually a love song, but a song about drug addiction, and some lines do hint at this e.g. " You won't need other friends anymore" and "I'll make you weaker". In any case, the melody and the refrain are heart-wrenchingly beautiful and shamelessly romantic. And, frankly, we listeners are free to interpret it as we like. Wish someone would sing that to me, or hum it at least, to avoid the drug-related connotations.

Last thing I shall do today is sing the praises of Mira Nair, whose film 'The Namesake' I watched, and loved, last Tuesday! Please do try and get hold of this film and watch it! I shall try to post a review in my next entry, which for a change would be useful, since I believe not much has been written in the Maltese press about it. I loved it so much I have lovingly given it another name- 'The Great Journey of Gogol Ganguly'. Problem is, I am finding it hard to articulate what is so great about it. But I have to talk about it!

Till next time,
I hope you shall be in the receipt of an enjoyableness (I warn that I shall reuse this sentence ad nauseum)

Lizzy
xxxx

A Single Girl's Viewpoint

-Is there any critical standpoint yet devised by which your love life is any distance from being of a clearly non-existent nature?

-No. None whatsoever.

You might be inquiring as to the whyness of such an exchange appearing on my blog. Yet I do confess that such elaborate speakingness is not wholly original. Anyone wishing to seek the inspiration behind such an odd little entry should assume the seatedness of his posture and watch this brilliant sketch. You might also want to refer to this sketch, to which I had posted a link a while back.

I hope you shall be in receipt of an enjoyableness until the next time I write.

Elizabeth
xxxx

It was dark this morning.

I found nothing to do this rainy morning. I tried to revel in the atmosphere by listening to a lot of British music (no prizes for guessing the type) but the time stretched too long, so I sat myself down to write. Yes, not to read but to write. I am still trying to run before I have walked enough. Words are a luxury that cannot be utilised too carefully. There are so many. An endless well of pretty little symbols. However, just like wine, they can get you drunk. Too many words that make too little sense. I do not simply want to be a craftsman (or craftsperson, or craftswoman) - someone who can simply write the language well. I want to be an artist. Haha. But how can I say that without risking falling flat on my face? It is not worth the risk.

Back from Berlin!

I went to Berlin! And I'm back! What a trip it was! I myself had been skeptic about the German capital. I went to Berlin! And I'm back! What a trip it was! I myself had been skeptic about the German capital. Yet I had been wrong. Everybody told me there is quite a handful of other German cities which are prettier, more beautiful, quainter and more fun. Berlin is an odd city. In WWII most of the buildings were bombed and so they had to be rebuilt, either in their old style or in a completely new one. When I was telling my sister, she reminded me of the scene in the film 'The Downfall', which we'd watched some time ago, where as the war is drawing to an end, the Germans throw thousands of books and documents out of the windows of an important building. Only God knows how much valuable knowledge and ideas were lost in the war- like little nuggets of history and civilization thrown in a raging volcano. That scene with the sheets of paper raining down and the bombs going off in the background perfectly embodied the way humanity itself destroys its own achievements of learning and thinking.

As in many cities, the old and the new sit side by side, yet in Berlin this somehow seemed even more obvious. In the Kurfurstendamm, which is one of the most important streets of the capital, the ruins of the beautiful Gedachtniskirche lie adjacent to the new Gedaechtniskirche whose minimal, urban, hexagonal exterior constrasts effectively with the ethereal, beautiful interior, in which there is a lush luxury of bluish light, created by the stained glass.

The most beautiful street in Berlin is Unter den Linden (Under the Lime Trees)- even its name has a nice ring to it- which is lined with one beautiful building after another, including the Humboldt University, the Neue Wache (New Guardhouse?) and the former Zeughaus, which now serves as the beautiful German History Museum. This museum was my favourite of them all. It showcases German history from BC up till the re-unification 17 years ago. There are all sorts of artefacts from every period- furniture, cutlery, paintings, bells, knights' armour, tapestries, books (including Luther's bible), sculptures, old cars and motorbikes, tapes and videos of Hitler's propaganda campaigns and speeches, posters, an original Chanel dress (note the feminine fashionable touch here), pieces of the Berlin wall with graffiti and countless other things. It was definitely very enlightening for three students of German like us.

Another highlight was dining in the revolving 'Telecafe' in the big globe at the top of the TV tower. A thousand thanks to Deborah's parents for giving us this experience. The twinkling lights of Berlin sprawled out underneath us made for a lovely atmosphere, even though I could hardly recognize anything- we were so high up! One of the best days was Sunday when we went to Potsdam, which is a small town outside Berlin- choc-a-block with lovely palaces. The day was a gloriously sun-drenched day, complete with a temperature which reached 24 degrees Celcius and heavenly skies that seemed to have stepped out straight from a fairytale. The palace itself is a celebration of Rococo indulgence, while I could have lost myself in those gardens on that heavenly day.

There are a million other things and many more highlights I could write about but I'm quite tired already. Deborah and Marilyn's company was great all throughout, despite the fact that we are three very different people. We laughed a lot, walked a lot, talked a lot, explored a lot and had a week we will never forget.

As regards university, it looks like I shall have to repeat. Everything. But I'll whine about that later. I guess I should have expected it. It was indeed too good to be true.

Watched Tattoo too- a good, powerful play about the disturbing, twisted and puzzling phenomenon that is sexual abuse within the family - yet I couldn't stand Maria Buckle's overdone contortions of the lips, jaws and mouth. Flash news, Ms. Buckle- the mouth is not the only way to convey emotions. Okay, maybe her performance was okay, yet my point still stands. Stefan Cachia Zammit was superb as the abusive father. I can't really say much more because that's as far as my time and my expertise (or lack thereof) allow me.

I really have to go now, because this blog is truly long!

Ps The three images I tried to upload are, respectively, the new Gedaechtniskirche, the three of us at Sanssouci and the Gendarmenmarkt, a lovely square near Unter den Linden. Hope I managed to upload them!

Till next time, take care,
Lizzy
xxx

Auf Wiedersehen!

I am leaving to Berlin tomorrow afternoon, so I thought I'd say goodbye to my dear readers, however few and far between you may be. A special hug goes out to my dear friend Claire, who is the number one reader of this blog and one of the most awesome friends I could ever hope for! Shall miss you greatly in Berlin, Philosopher ;p

Anyway, I hope that we arrive safely, and that we have bucketloads of fun, and that we see bucketloads of great things!

Till next time,
cya, or should I say auf wiedersehen!!
Lizzy
xxxx

Loaded with Meaning

I try so hard to write blogs that are Loaded With Meaning. Everybody does. Everybody wants to be deep and intellectual. Yet no line I have ever written ever signified more:

I'm off to Berlin in six days' time and I cannot find my passport.

Why does my life have to- I can't even finish that sentence- I'm so worried that I've actually come full circle and been overwhelmed by an eerie calm and a sense of submission and resignation. It has to be somewhere here. And I heard there was a terrorism scare in Germany. Oh dear, God help us please.

By the way the big answer comes on the 14th September i.e. I shall then know whether I shall be a second year Ba English student or not. The only problem is that I shall be in Berlin, but everything will be okay I hope. Mum still thinks I'm on the 'path of ruin' and still sobs sometimes, but I just cannot discard my happiness just because of her. She has to stop living in the sixties and seventies (not the hippy type, but the Maltese type which induced a longlasting obsession with settling down in some dreary job for a lifetime, even if you hated it).

BTW MUM FOUND THE PASSPORT! Thank God for that. It shall be wintry in Berlin- how very odd! I can't even grasp the idea of moi in another country. I've been rooted here in Malta for so long that it seems too otherworldly. I love Malta, mind you, but the sameness and familiarity has lulled me to sleep. It will be nice having to take care of myself, not catching buses on automatic, and seeing foreign things that I do not see everyday of the week. Perhaps I shall be jolted into life. I'm a bit nervous, because I hope we really manage to make the most of this trip, yet it is 'nervous' in a good way.

I guess now it is time to sign off, because this blog is starting to resemble my private diary- ie a series of incoherent, unrelated sentences. One last note of thanks to Geraldine, who was so sweet and spent some time with me this morning while I waded through the bureucracy of university. They were nice today though. Hmmm *wonders*. Anyhow, it was really nice talking to Geraldine again :-D.

Till next time,
take care
Lizzy
xxx

Good people

I have a new love in my life. It is Clive Owen. I've just watched 'Derailed'. I couldn't take my eyes off his face. The guy has soul, and depth. He gives me the sense of being a noble, decent person. I guess that is what a real man is like. Dear me, when I'm thirty-nine going on forty, I want to wake up next to a husband like that. I just loved 'Derailed'. Probably it was because of Clive Owen but I still think it's a very good film. It's all about how one mistake can rob you of your whole life, the life that wasn't always great, but at least it was okay. It's about the great lengths we go to to hide the mess we've made, and how we end up in a bigger mess. It's about how good people get embroiled in bad things, and how, then, they have to choose between blurting it all out and getting it off their chest, or else just walk, breathe, eat, sleep and wake up with the guilt, so as not to disturb the normality of their lives, so that everything remains okay.

Dear me, Clive Owen- sheer class.

The wind seems to have turned nortwesterly tonight. The winds of change hehh. It's September now. What a month this will be! I will go abroad on my own for the first time in my life and I will hopefully, hopefully, change course. Life beckons. And maybe one day, my very own Clive Owen will sweep me off my feet.

Till next time,
take care,
Liz
xxx

How to Disappear Completely

Help help help! This morning I broke down because I felt like such a failure. I keep looking up to my siblings and I know that I'll never be like them. They involve themselves in this and that, have a cv bursting with experiences of every shape and size, and then there's me- the one who couldn't even stay in a job at EF because she's such a darn weakling. Aaargh! My ego is practically reduced to the size of a little pea at the moment. I. am. so. scared. Not scared in a panicky way- but I have that sinking feeling that I shall always be stuck in a rut. A piece of nothingness, an Elizabeth-shaped hole in the universe. And then maybe I'll scuttle off to Brussels to translate- and dissolve into oblivion. What does it matter if I was top of every class? They do not tell you that what you need is the fire, the guts, something I seem to be entirely lacking. At least yesterday I might have helped a poor ill old cat, belonging to a friend and former teacher of mine, who is in Luxembourg. I heard its cries from the well at her house.

Dear me, I am so giddy with hollowness. What is there when I peek inside? Nothing, but a desire to be like this and that. I can't even be original in my wishes and dreams! I remember writing essays back at school. I did so well because I remembered bits and pieces from what I read. I guess my memory was my best feature. I managed to fool people into thinking I had the fire and the spark. I never used to know what to do with the characters in my stories so I just killed them off, or they committed suicide, probably out of the boredom of happening to land in a story of someone this boring. Maybe I was right when, before sixth form, I thought for about a day that I should abandon my beloved English and German, and take up Maths and Physics and become an engineer or something similar. I had the marks. All I needed was the courage to admit that I'm not the artistic type, however much I want to be. At least I would have been some kind of a success, and Mum would not have been disappointed. She would have had a reason to beam and be happy for me, and I would have had a great job, and a lovely, secure feeling inside.

Now that I let it all out, I feel a little better. At least I have admitted my own disappointment to myself. And if you were wondering, the title of this blog is the name of a Radiohead song. Yes, I am listening to them a lot lately, especially their later stuff, for which many people do not give them enough credit. Those who know me will know that it's not just the experimentation for its own sake that impresses me, but the fact that they still manage to make beautiful music that even musically illiterate people like me can appreciate. I just love them! And the notion of disappearing and nothingness is rather relevant at the moment. The only video I found on Youtube of the recorded version of this song was made by a fan and is kind of weird and puzzling, so I thought you should look it up yourself, lest you do not like weird and puzzling things.

On a different note, and to show that, despite all this, I've actually been happy and serene for the past couple of weeks, these will cheer you up for sure:
This one is about pretentious drivel.
This one underlines what we all hate about critics.
This one is for all those who love/hate linguistics.

These people have a brilliant sense of humour! Enjoy! (Just posting those links already makes me feel better!)

Till next time,
Lizzy
xxxx

TV and nostalgia

Woke up feeling like I was hit by a truck. Wasn't feeling too well yesterday night either. In fact I engaged in some real potato-couching - I watched one and a half episodes of Britain's Next Top Model (watching the bitching and the glamour always gives me the kicks), and then I watched CSI. CSI keeps you watching, but except for the ingenious storyline, it's crap. The acting must be the worst I've seen in ages (excluding Becky of course), and this is coming from a person who knows next to nothing about acting, and needs really crap acting to be induced to comment. The red-haired bloke who has the main part has to stare straight into the camera and put on his painfully outdated so-last-decade sunglasses whenever he says something of a certain DEPTH and SIGNIFICANCE, as if the viewers were so dumb that they needed to be told when to listen. Furthermore, the producers of the show have the sick habit of putting in this groovy music whenever they're examining some butchered body in an advanced state of decomposition. If they think that finding out how a person died is some geeky endeavour for hopeless bland geeky over-enthusiastic idiots, they should be taken to have their head, and heart, examined. This show simply underlines the misconception that all scientific people are dim-witted and possess no sense of style whatsoever. This is obviously a wrong generalization , but dear me, shows like these just strengthen it. The cinematography of the show is also very clinical, stark, bleak and scientific. Lots of ice-cold blue and highlighter green and grey and metallic colours and other assorted ugly colours- my insufficient ability to describe colours specifically is quite unforgivable I know. Bottom line, despite all these shortcomings, it kept me glued to the sofa, listening intently to every word. The appeal of detective stories is universal indeed. No wonder there's something like 754857585 such shows on TV.

This reviewing thingy is really getting me hooked :-D! The thing is, life is very quiet and ordinary at the moment, so it's no use going on and on about it because otherwise I'll bore you to sleep. On Sunday I was very depressed and so I got all bothered and flustered and dug up Radiohead. Ah. Exquisite. Sometimes it hits me like a rapid flash of light that those guys were so good- 'OK Computer' still ranks as one of those albums that most struck me and that I really love. I still clearly remember the day I bought it. I went to Valletta early before my Spanish lesson. I think it was the tenth of March 2003- in the midst of the Referendum and General Election chaos. I recall being all panicked and flustered because I could not find it anywhere. Then, finally, I found it in the City Gate shop. For a girl who was always terrified of what Big Sister and Brother were going to say, (I was proud that way and had this tremendous fear of ridicule and criticism, huge remnants of which unfortunately remain to this day), it was a big deal to splash out my saved-up pocket money on an original CD. I remember the joy and delight on my first playing it. Dear me, I was such a weird little fourteen-year-old! (and I did not know how to download songs yet.) Ah nostalgia. I had documented that momentous day in my diary of course, but I think I've lost the diary or it got thrown away. Anyways all this recalling came out of my intention to post this link to a much-loved Radiohead song which they never recorded properly. It's all very heart-wrenching and romantic and it's called 'True Love Waits'. Apparently there's another song with this name but it is not a cover.

Before I conclude, I shall say that lately I've been writing addictively in my diary. It's become the thing I turn to when I'm not feeling too good about myself. Sometimes I feel like life will pass me by while I'm busy writing diary entries. It all sounds so mediocre yet it's the one thing that I seem to be able to do of late. It's like the last lifeline before one starts feeling hopeless, hollow and mediocre. I seem to falter at every attempt at creativity but I still have to keep writing or else I feel rather dead. Moreover, diaries are a good way to put all the pieces -thoughts, feelings, perceptions, experiences- into at least a semblance of a whole. Yet I am happy. Life is very tranquil and some things are sorting themselves out nicely. (I have the (deputy) Dean's recommendation!!!). I should be off now since I've ended up writing journal entries about writing journal entries. Dear me, I should get me a life. But not really, I've actually got work to do (Yes, not joking!) once I leave this blog. Actually I should have started ages ago. So I shall bid you farewell and Happy Santa Marija!!!

Take care,
Lizzy
xxxx

The blue and yellow whistle

The great thing about being unemployed and having a lot of free time is that you are constantly discovering new talents. A couple of weeks ago it was singing, now it's whistling. Since I am crap at whistling per se, I managed to get me a whistle, and dear me am I talented!!! Last Friday I went to Etnikafe on my own since my sister gave me a complimentary ticket and no one could accompany me on that day (sob sob). The show was good. There's no other way around it. Being rather illiterate musically, I cannot really wax lyrical on the technical prowess of the band. Yet, from what I could hear, they have managed to blend their traditional folk roots with more modern urban sounds, such as reggae, ska, rap and whatever other genres they cite as influences. I had been a great fan of theirs in the time when they released Zifna (their second album I believe), yet then they reached a bit of a dead end. They had managed to revive Maltese folk music and convince people that it could be great fun. They had injected energy into what we thought were dead forms of expression, using traditional Maltese instruments such as the zaqq, and involving folk singers (ghannejja) and bands which regularly play at feasts. It was all a load of 'briju' and newfound joy at being the quirky, loud, temperamental inhabitants of this flawed yet ultimately adorable small sunny island. The sale of things such as pastizzi at the shows added to this feel-good aura. Yet, a year later, in 2004, they immediately seemed to be losing their spark and becoming repetitive. However, now, to cut a long story short, they've found a way to retain what made them so special, while progressing at the same time. I particularly liked the song about the immigrants ("Klandestini Rock") sung (or rapped) by John from IQ, "Kollox tal-Plastik", sung by the ex-Lumiere frontman, as well as a song about the waves and the sea and the guitar (its name escapes me), sung by the sweet-voiced Alison Galea from Beangrowers.

Hmm seems this reviewing thingy is drawing me in. Anyways,my favourite part of the evening was when I got to make a lot of Briju. I was very quiet for most of the evening- the atmosphere was very civilised- lots of journalists around (I think it was Complimentary Ticket Night). However, at the end of the night, they gave us each a lovely whistle to blow. My beloved beloved whistle: Its tip is white, yet then it opens into a lovely shiny plastic blue with yellow paper ruffles at the end. Pure art haha. But I loved the thing the moment I saw it. I shall probably draw a smiley face on it with tipex, to match the tip and to give the thing a face if I have time. Anyhows I blew it so much!!! Wiii! That's what I love about Etnika. They always manage to end with a bang. I also loved the routine of the drunk hamalli, which involved five "dancers" pretending they're drunk and fashionably lacking co-ordination. Apparently they were supposed to be co-ordinated, but my sister's accident with her shoe put in an odd, endearing delay. Ah the graceful Galeas. Furthermore, I liked the way they entered and exited on the "karru"-like structure. Very mass-meeting/ festa tar-rahal-ish. Very happily noisy and Maltese.

I had other things to write about (such as racing and spluttering and laughing in the sea with Claire :-D). I also met up with a former teacher and good friend of mine who came from Luxembourg :-D. Yet, this blog is already long and I am already tired, hence now I will conclude it and bid you farewell. Till next time,

Take care,
Lizzy
xxxx

PS I could not not post a link to this song, even though I had promised myself I would not mention Keane so much, to give the impression I'm not too boring and one-track minded. But I just LOVE this rendition of this heart-wrenching Rufus Wainwright song, probably more than the original. And it's best to be honest to blog readers, rather than give false impressions lol. Enjoy!

Smelling the roses

These past few days have been quiet, sunny and happy. Rarely have I felt better. The only thing I am anxious about at the moment (and it's a rather big deal) is university. I desperately want to know whether they will let me into second year or not, and I still have to get the Dean's approval. What makes it a bit worse is the fact that everyone is busy registering for the study-units of the coming year. Only God knows what infinity of confusion I shall have to face as regards study-units and late registration, if they let me in that is. But despite all this, it has been a great few days. I went swimming, met my friends, went out, shopped, the works. AND I finally started reading again. I had been having a bit of a reader's block, maybe because of the heat but more probably because of the confusion in my poor little head.

Yesterday was a particularly nice day. I met two friends I had not spent time with for a very long time- Diana and Demelsa. Together with Claire, we went to Sliema and I bought me a nice girly pair of gold earrings and the flip flops that had been continuously eluding me. (My beloved old ones are making an odd rattling sound when I walk.) It seems that simple, plain, FLAT flip flops with DISCREET straps which BLEND IN with whatever you're wearing and are NOT made of plastic are a rare commodity these days. Or else, I'm a lazy shopper. After that, we unexpectedly met Desiree :-D!

Anyhows, when I started writing this blog, I had this grand, sublime idea about how I was going to convey the feeling of being blessed, that I had been sensing of late. Yet, it is turning out to be just another mundane blog full of mundane trivial little things. The thing is, as I was sitting on the bus a couple of days ago, I realised just how lucky and blessed I am, and how sweet life is at the moment, despite the odd fact that I was passing by the smoke-stacks of the Marsa industrial estate at that precise moment. It really would be an act of excessive emo jaded-ness (This word does not strike me as existent) to complain much at the moment. Naturally there are a good number of things that I would like to see change, yet compared to all the pain and misery I can glimpse in the world, well I have to be excessively cliched, but one has to count one's blessings. Moreover, the fact that I am finally on my way to changing my course is really a huge sigh of relief. I was genuinely quite terrified of teaching and it gave me a dull yet undeniable sinking feeling. You might be thinking that I am an awful wimp, but I have to be honest to myself, wimp or not. Now it is easier to talk about what I want/need to do, even if I have acknowledged that I might need to go and find work as a translator in Brussels/Luxembourg. For once, I can say "we will see" ("issa naraw") - my favourite phrase- without a tone of dread and a sigh of resignation.

This morning I dutifully kept my promise to cook for the family, naturally under my dad's watchful eye. After a certain unsuccessful attempt at cooking pasta back in a Home Economics class in Form 2, it has been rather difficult to convince people to trust me alone with water and raw pasta( I had thrown the pasta in cold water). Anyhows, being the awesome illustrious person that I am ;P, I pulled it off brilliantly and am proud to say everybody simply LUURVED it!! Poetic licence allows me to exaggerate a bit :-D.

The excessive length of this blog forces me to conclude it, but not before I gleefully announce that my first driving lesson is on Friday. Smell that? It's the maturity emanating from my every pore :p. Till next time,

Take care,
Lizzy
xxx

The menacing rabbit

This morning I had intended to go swimming but then I did not tell anyone and so ended up stuck at home on a sunny Saturday morning. Therefore I turned to this blog for comfort.

This attempt at comfort blogging was rather fruitless and so I decided to go to swim in the middle of the scorching afternoon, which means I shall be off very soon. But I thought I'd blog a bit before I left. This last week I watched two films I had been intending to watch for a very long time. 'Sylvia' and 'Donnie Darko'. 'Donnie Darko' is a very odd film, and even that is an understatement. The story is basically this: An angst-ridden teenage outcast, complete with troublesome past and psychiatric treatment, is saved from a sure death when he is called outside by a gigantic rabbit, or rather a man dressed as a hideous rabbit, who tells him when the world will end. In the meantime, a piece of aircraft falls on his bedroom. After this event, the rabbit keeps haunting him and telling him to do a series of increasingly dangerous and violent things- such as vandalizing the school and burning down the house of a corrupt televangelist. In the meantime, the boy questions time-travel, portals into a parallel universe, destiny, God etc etc. This film is a very weird film, the kind that has enough twists and turns and questions and possible answers to keep anyone who enjoys deciphering cryptic messages and complicated ciphers happy and occupied for a whole year. Yet, is it just that? A pretentious warped bucketload of encryption and labyrinthine mysteries, whose only complexity lies in cunningness rather than real depth? I think this film actually lies in between simply being a gimmicky series of twists and ciphers, typical of the sort of sci-fi addicts that are so numerous among teenage boys like Darko himself, and the genuinely quirky original little gem that it was touted to be by the numerous enthusiasts who made it a cult favourite. Thankfully enough, it has none of the usual feeling of pretentiousness usually associated with cultish indie films. Moreover it is well shot and acted. And Jake Gyllenhaal is Jake Gyllenhall (drool). There are some cringe-inducing gimmicks- the actual existence of the Berta Sparrow book about time travel (it's on the website, I've been told) is one such thing. But all in all, I'm happy I saw it, some six years after the whole brouhaha broke out. There was also a nice melancholic song in the film which is really beautiful and quiet- It is called Mad World and I think it's a cover. Enjoy!

Dear me, I have just spent half an hour reviewing a film that has been reviewed a gazillion times before. Talk about uselessness. But I'm kind of enjoying this reviewing thingy. I think I shall actually coin a new proverb :'Those who can, do. Those who can't, review!' It actually rhymes and it's better than the overused cliched teaching one. Anyhows I have to be off to swim now. I'll review Sylvia if I manage to come up with a couple of coherent sentences about it. Blogging about myself all the time is kind of rather tiring. BTW It's the end of the 'Under the Iron Sea' tour for Keane today. *sobs* And I did not manage to see them live. But I will manage sometime. In any case, I enjoyed the tourblogs. I must really get me a life. But, oh, how I love them!

Till next time, take care,
Lizzy
xxxxx

Random thoughts

Am going through old unfinished blogs I'd discarded and I'll soon start going through old diary entries and unfinished writings. Guess it's nostalgia day. I feel that I need to write something pretty quick. Lots of thoughts going round in my head but nothing substantial enough. I do have an idea of what I want to write but how shall I go about it? I'd listened to songwriters saying that the whole process of getting something out of you is unpleasant and difficult. It's when it's finished and you know you've got that 'something' that it is so wonderful. I have a feeling I'll never get to that last leg of the process. Am posting on this blog more often than usual because it's the only outlet for my writing at the moment and, since I love typing away and writing in general, it feels liberatory.

I wish I felt like reading but I am distracted by a certain restlessness as well as a couple of worries floating about in my head. Tomorrow is a free day so I might go to Valletta to look for new specs- my old ones are getting on my nerves. I also have to book driving lessons and clean the flippin room! Oh dear, laziness never felt so lovely... I'm not even bored. This evening Desiree wanted to go out and eat sushi at Paceville yet I discouraged her because I was bored of going to PV and riding vans. I will just have a quiet evening in, chatting with the family. I haven't had one in a while and I need to remind mum I'm still a sensible person. Things are already looking up between us and there will be my godparents as well (Aunt Maryanne and Uncle Joe) so that's nice. Before I leave, I shall post a link to this very short funny animation about Keane. You see, I do have a sense of humour and am able to laugh, even at the expense of my dahlings from Sussex. I found it very funny but I do not know whether the reading throngs will do so too. It's about the way many view them as such softies hehe. Feel free to comment. And yes, I am totally addicted to Keane at the moment. I'm even nice enough to admit it :-D! I will also post a Keane-unrelated link to keep everybody happy. This song is 'New York, New York', released some six years ago by Ryan (not Bryan!) Adams. Still sounds brilliant! Enjoy! Till next time,

Take care,
Lizzy
xxxxx

My newfound singing talent

Yes. It is official. I can sing. Even if it's like an unnaturally angry and irritated hawker at the fish market, who has just had her thigh stung by a particularly poisonous bee. But at least I can sing. And, oh dear, how I used this newfound talent last Thursday at Isle of mtv!!! What a night it was! I promised myself I would not stop singing and clapping and cheering! And how I sang, how I clapped and cheered! Claire and Desiree were witness to the joys of having me constantly hopping about and getting excited for the duration of around 5 hours. I seriously loved every second of it. The sheer euphoria of just being part of a forty-thousand strong crowd all intent on having fun was enough for me. Ira gave a good show as usual while Enrique was the friendly, fun-loving Latino lover we all expected him to be. Maroon 5 turned out better than I expected them. To my musically uninformed ears, they sounded very tight and their music was very good- a healthy dose of cool, sun-drenched L.A. rock with a striking pop sensibility never did anyone any harm. The only problem was that the crowd did not seem to receive their lesser-known songs so well. Yet, I am proud to say I never stopped clapping, cos otherwise what's the fun? Thankfully in the end, the crowd recharged its enthusiasm for the lovely 'She Will be Loved', 'Sunday Morning' and the unforgettable 'This Love'. And that Adam what's his surname chap is kind of really hot. Ah yes. I think his surname is Levine. I also unexpectedly enjoyed the DJ-sets in between. They were kind of cool. They gave me the opportunity to hop a bit more, and raise my hands up in the cool air while practising my new dorky finger dance/rap and my izzi izzi beat. The kind of things only hopeless nerds would come up with, but, sigh, I just cannot help it.

After Maroon 5, both Claire and Desiree were too exhausted to stay so we stationed our weary bodies outside near the ice-cream van, while we ate chocolate ice-cream, sipped Coca cola and watched Akon belt out his songs in that unmistakeable squeaky voice of his on the big screen. At this point, I got an urge to get back to the Fosos square and make some more 'briju' but it was too late and so, we walked to the bus and went home. Desiree and I decided that we should save up and travel to go to some gigs abroad in the future. Obviously, the first band that came to mind was Coldplay, since both of us love 'em to bits. That way we can make sure that we both lose our voices by the end of the evening. Yet I still have to find someone who'd be willing to accompany me to a Keane concert. Yesterday I tried to lecture Desiree into liking them but kind of failed. Mitt bniedem, mitt fehma I guess... though no amount of disagreement will stop me from being able to recite all their lyrics even if under hypnosis. Thankfully I no longer worry myself to death about liking the 'right', critically acclaimed artists. I find that people who do that are rather miserable wannabes. People should just like what strikes a chord in their little hearts/ minds and stop trying to climb on a high horse and look down on others with a 'hipper-than-thou' attitude. Thankfully all the people who tease me about Keane do so with a good-natured sense of humour (or so I hope). And after all, Keane are good, right? Right? Right, I say!

Some news worth mentioning before I conclude my address to the reading throngs: I finally managed to speak to Dr. Callus (the English head of department)and he's endorsing my request, provided that I complete the missing study-units next year. However, I still have to speak to the German co-ordinator, the Dean and finally submit the request to the Student's Request Board (I hope they're nice like Dr.Callus). Here's hoping for the best. In other news, I started cleaning my room, did so for about half an hour and then stopped. I hope I'll make some noticeable improvements in this area. Housework remains my Achilles' heel hehe. But I have to help mum this summer, especially since now I'm officially unemployed! I guess playing some Keane in the background would help in the cleaning process:-D!!!!

Anyways, am really off now (super long blog Owwemmgi)
Take care,
Lizzy
xxxxx

PS I hope I wrote 'newfound' correctly. Bye byeee

You're standing on my neck.

Writing yesterday's post immediately made me feel better, however today I woke up feeling like I had just been hit by a truck. I think I have a cold, even though I do not have the usual unbearable soreness of the throat. My bones are stiff and my back is aching. Moreover, a small red patch has appeared in the identical place in both eyes. Weird stuff. The strangest thing however is that I have lost my appetite, which is an unusual thing for me. Probably it is my body silently rebelling against this unacceptable, horrendous, unspeakable heat. Oh dear me, I well and truly hate it! I do not even have the energy to drag myself to the seaside. What particularly irks me is the way the weather forecast describes this weather as nice and sunny (sabih u xemxi, to be precise)! Anyone who thinks this weather is nice should be forced into therapy, or rehab, or some such thing. In the morning I went out to run some errands and the sky was grey! Yes, grey! This heat has sucked the life and colour out of everything, even the sky!!! I do not know the reason for this but it must be the humidity, or the brightness of the sun, or the harmful UV rays (Geography aficionados please feel free to elaborate).

Due to my body's weird behaviour I spent most of the day doing nothing particularly useful- I chatted on msn, listened to music, chatted a bit more, slept, watched re-runs on TV, watched the Hills (very dumb but very beloved by yours truly). I hadn't had such freedom to laze about for about four weeks, so my conclusion is that I earned it. The only useful thing I did was look up around thirty Berlin hostels on the internet. Since the best hostels are all full, methinks we should simply take the Flyaway package with Air Malta. We could not book before since we all had to wait to know when we'd be free, so it is not really our fault, and the difference is not so big anyways. Hope all goes well :-D.

The whole point of this blog was not to have yet another longish blog (but I just cannot stop talking, ever!) but apparently, despite being short of energy, I still cannot help bothering my readers. I still haven't started reading/writing something decent after stopping work- too many little errands to run, too much heat and too many distractions. I have to trudge back to university sometime this week. I have a feeling that I'll just submit the request form without talking to anyone. Then, the 'faculty board', whoever might be on it, will consider it in September.

Anyhow, the original scope of this post was to give you these two links. Recently, I was reminded of this show my sister and I used to love and watch around five years ago (back in my Dark Ages, ref earlier post.) This series was produced by MTV and it was brilliant, according to me. 'Daria' was funny, smart, witty, quirky and endearing. Despite, or rather because of its hilarious caricatures, it managed to be relevant and an intelligent commentary on suburban life nowadays. In a nutshell, I loved it, and it is with great nostalgia that I post these two links. They're of a random episode that I found on Youtube. Please watch, and enjoy!: This is Part One (which should be watched first) and Part Two (which should be watched second). I actually watched them the other way round (but only cos I couldn't find Part One). The title of this blog is actually a reference to the theme song. It beats me how this can be the same station that produces rubbish like Jackass and Viva la Bam. I should be off now, since this blog has turned out even longer than the usual longish-ness.

Till next time,
take care,
Lizzy
xxxxx

In limbo

I've just cried a bit, one of those comforting bouts of weeping that come from the heart. I had yet another argument with my mother because she still thinks I'm doing something stupid and I should become a teacher. To make matters worse, I went to university for nothing because Dr. Callus was doing the third year viva voce exams and he has not even answered my email. Which is doubly odd, since he'd answered me back when he was on holiday. Lecturers: strange people. The bad thing about all this is that I very easily get discouraged and right now all I want is just to be safely registered in the B.A. course, with no more question marks looming about my poor weary head. My mum just does no help. All she has contributed to the situation is doubt and even more useless worrying, and then she wonders why we're not getting on so well at the moment. She says she's really proud of me and my results, but if she really were, she'd trust me more and stop looking at my decision as some kind of anti-climax. This afternoon she told me that I might be on the way to becoming 'sfrattata' (?!?!?). I was speechless and refused to even continue the conversation. Some statements really cannot be dignified with an answer (to shamelessly copy Bridget Jones), so I stormed upstairs and took comfort in loads and loads of Keane. I know that anyone reading this blog must be thinking I have the most boring musical tastes ever, simply because I've been listening to an overdose of the same band for roughly five months now. HOWEVER, I do listen to other stuff (I just do not document it on this blog) and what's wrong with finding great great comfort in something and sticking to it? I'm listening to some of their earlier stuff at the moment, singles and B-sides they released before getting a good record deal. It might not be very polished but it still has that special genuine sweetness and the lovely melodies that have made them successful. This song is of particular interest. It is one of the few songs written by the band's singer (Tom Chaplin) and it makes me wonder why he stopped writing for the band. It would be very interesting if both Tim (the gorgeous pianist) and Tom wrote, I think.

Anyways, there I was talking about serious things like university and I get sidetracked talking about Keane. That kind of says something about my wish for escapism and the extent of how fed up I am of being in limbo (hence the title). One last thing before I continue. Just in case you haven't noticed yet, I love Keane, soo much! Anyways, I was talking about how my mother called me 'sfrattata'. The reason for this was because I stayed out in the sun after going to uni and Desiree and I went near the sea under the MCC to rest our tired feet in the water. What's more, we even commited the heinous crime of staying out till two on a Sunday night, even though we had been waiting for the stinking van since midnight. I hate transport services!!! What on Earth is happening to the fun-loving, understanding mum I had? She who used to drag me to go shopping and to go to the beautician and plead with me to go out and make friends back in the Dark Ages of my early teens (ref. earlier posts)? I know I am not the perfect daughter. I know I sometimes keep everything to myself and I really do not help in the housework. I also have the bad habit of mumbling and muttering angrily to her for no particularly valid reason, especially when I can't find the eyeliner I'd misplaced myself the night before. Yet, I've always done my level best to act respectably and to practise the values she has lovingly inculcated in us ever since we were kids, and for this she sometimes forgets to give me credit. I wish things were okay since mum is quite a darling at the end of the day. Despite everything, all she wants is that we're well. Yet, her ideas of wellbeing can sometimes be stubbornly limited and exclusive. Steering clear of B.A courses is one such idea.

This entry has been very emotional and soppy but I really needed to let all this out, so please bear with me. I hope things will start looking brighter and I will be able to wax lyrical about the joys of foreign-student-free life soon!

P.S. My lovely brother (I really can't help loving him to bits) told me this lovely line from 'The Pursuit of Happyness'- "Don't let anyone tell you that you cannot make it, even if it is yourself." Why can't everyone be that kind and understanding?

Till next time,

Take care,
Lizzy
xxxxx

Drivelling

I do not know whether this word exists but I'm taking a gamble, without unleashing my nerdy side and checking on the merriam-webster web dictionary. I think it means rambling on stupidly and not making much sense. Tonight I was a bit tense and I drivelled a lot. I started talking on and on about ects and credits and study units and sikstifajfpersent and oners and all this stuff in front of my mum, to whom all this is simply greek. This made my mum feel even more confused and even more SILENTLY convinced that I'm messing up my life by doing a B.A. in English. The thing about my mother's silent convictions is that they are impossible to ignore. She expresses them in her morose tone of voice, her sighs of resignation and the sense of inevitable doom that oozes out of her every pore. Oh God why does she have to be so stubborn? She keeps telling me to rethink it and rethink it when I've been thinking it over and over again for almost six months now. And for once in my life I am decided about something, so much so that I do not even feel the need of relying on others' opinion. I know this is what I want. I just know. The only thing that upsets me is that my mother is the kind of person who worries herself till she's well and truly miserable about even the smallest things. And I do not want her to be upset. I know that for her jobs and settling down is one big big deal. Yet maybe seeing me happy will put a smile on her face, and maybe one day I will make her proud :-D. Pity that I do not yet have a clue whether I'll be accepted into second year of the Honours course. And slowly slowly the prospect is seeming even more unrealistic than ever.

On a more joyous and chirpy note, I finish work tomorrow and MENO MALE i say too! Dear me, these past two days have been a confirmation of the complete mess that language schools in Malta are. The lack of resources is a joke- One CD player to be shared by some 40 classes, not to mention the scarcity of a thing as basic as whiteboard markers!!! Moreover I realised why I hate teaching so much. Teaching just disturbs you from your purpose. It is just a distraction. It jolts you awake from your mental meanderings, the freedom of your inner life, and it throws you in an alien environment where you have to cope with strangers and engage in that evil thing called practicality. I know I am painting it in a very evil way but that is how it is for me. I am sure it is very fulfilling for those wonderful people who do it so well- those who were born teachers like my mum or my uncle- but for me it is just bleak and something to get over and done with as soon as possible. Even when I can see that the students are wonderful people with great potential, it is still a chore for me. Maybe you might say that I am making a mountain out of a molehill, but it is something that I have noticed and endlessly thought about. It's one of the things I share with my sister. We repel the career our family has made a living from. Something like half my relatives are teachers. What warms me up is my father's understanding. He taught for something like forty years without ANY promotions whatsoever so I think he silently encourages my determination to break away.

Ok now I am making it sound like some Ridley Scott epic of escape and revolution, which it definitely is not. (It's just a change of course for God's sake!) But this is the way I am- I romanticize every single thing. Must be the symptom of a sheltered life. And before anyone who reads this blog is reduced to a suicidal wreck wondering when or if this rambling will end, I will bid you farewell..

Take care,
Lizzy
xxxx

(warning!) very tired blogger

A short blog just to say how much I am looking forward to finishing work on Friday. A reminder for whenever, IF ever I'm nuts enough to regret giving up on teaching. Dear me I have never been this sure about not wanting to teach. I feel it in my stomach everytime I'm walking to class. Being left alone seems like a heavenly privilege at moments like those. Even though i had some nice students. And I realized I might want to relearn Spanish. My mind seems to have shunned that language. Anyways, had a rather plinky plonky day today and spent it feeling like I'd just been hit by a truck. Which excuses my brief fragmented blog, I guess. I am still waiting for Dr. Callus' answer about the course. He should be back from the UK by now so hopefully he' ll bestow a ray of hope on me soon. Anyhows, I gotta be off to do some serious navigating in the Land of Nod before I wake up tomorrow to finish lesson planning. I had no more energy to squeeze out of me tonight. Found this song which kind of suits my mood- it's one of Keane's (oh God why am I so boring?) earliest singles or B-sides or something like that. Cuteness cuteness! Am really off now,

Hugs and Cookies
Lizzy
xxxxx

Bittersweet

Bad day and good day, sort of. It started well, turned sour and became nice again. I woke up feeling rejuvenated after a lovely first part of the weekend. Last week was truly exhausting. I never slept for more than five hours a night and taught all day long. Therefore the weekend, spent sleeping, eating and shopping, was quite blissful. Tomorrow is the start of my final week at work and I must admit that I cannot wait till I'm free!!! It's not that I do not want to work, it's just that I dread TEFLing. There is so much I plan to do. I have to read some good books and finally get down to writing. I had started something half decent after the exams but work meant I had to stop, so now I will continue, hopefully that is. Besides, I need to tidy up my room which has been on the verge of tumbling into the abyss (a Tim Rice Oxley quote!!!) of complete chaos for the last three months or so. Moreover, I have to plan THE trip to Berlin!!! Yes, Marilyn, Deborah and I have decided to just pack our bags and leave, soli soletti, to the land that gave us the source of so much stress and laborious studying- the German language! Hopefully we'll have booked by next week and I will start drawing up some kind of schedule for our visits. Maybe we'll have time to visit some of the places around Berlin too- such as the Mark Brandenburg (you Teutonic nerds should know what that is).

Ok, where was I?? Oh yes, the day turned sour. I had an argument with a dear friend of mine who is sort of drifting away. Maybe I reacted too strongly but, for goodness' sake, I had just been listening to my mother begging me to explain why I gave up on teaching and on a secure job YET AGAIN, and I was not in the mood to be diplomatic. The argument and other assorted stupid things ruined my day, until Desiree came here and we went to M'Scala. We stuffed our faces with chicken wrap and crisps at the pitch and then grabbed a cappucino ( which I did not like) and caught the bus to Zabbar. From there Desiree accompanied me to my house in Fgura, we chatted a while in the drive-in and then I accompanied Des back to Zabbar. You see, we weren't exactly in the mood to get back home.

Bah, so far a very functional and factual blog. Yet, it is too late for me to be my usual profound self ;p. Am kind of scared of the work-less summer that lies ahead and maybe I am trying to make life seem full of things to do. I did apply for summerwork with the university in summer, so maybe I will have a job, even if for a couple of weeks and with what is sure to be a meagre pay. In any case, why be so scared of having some time all to myself? I have to write, and I will somehow manage. I used to have a spark somewhere back in my days as a pimply grease machine, so why should I have lost it now? Furthermore I'm still in limbo as regards the course. Will I have to repeat first year? Will I find it in myself to prove to mum that I made the right choice? Something tells me I will. I am being so positive that I sound like a PSD teacher repeating her mantra on automatic.

Oh dear, this post gives me the feeling of a fabricated sort of sensofhjumer (I'll explain in some other post). Don't know why, but my dreamy, Keane-loving side seems to be buried under a mound of ordinariness (there i go again, repeating myself). But DO NOT DESPAIR, I am still a big fan of the three little nerds from Sussex and still think they are the cutest thing since, well, since the cutest thing that came before them. Honestly though, I am addicted to their music. They give me the sense of the incurable romanticism of people who, like me, must have led pretty sheltered, ordinary lives. Well, I will elaborate some other time. Till then, I wish you all sweet summer days.

Take care,
Lizzy
xxxxx

Decisions, decisions

I am writing this blog with swollen red eyes and a splitting headache. I've just had an argument with my mum which was tantamount to World War Three. I told her I'm leaving EF, cos I simply cannot bear the students anymore, and she flipped out. She kept murmuring on about how I do not want to work and how I'm not like 'it-tfal tan-nies' and how I worry her everyday and this naturally led me to flip out too and start shouting louder and louder until I burst out crying and stormed to my room. I know I could have made a sacrifice and kept on working at least a single shift yet I hated every second of it and dreaded it day in day out. Do not get me wrong, it is not like my mum is the type that gets all hot and bothered about money and work. What she gets all hot and bothered about is the fact that she thinks that lazing about all summer long will turn me into some sort of cabbage and will reduce my mental and social faculties. I really would like to work but teaching is just not the thing for me, and she should understand that I am entitled to avoid spending every night dreading the following morning. I do sometimes feel like a loser and a quitter but at least I will have done three weeks of full days of teaching(9-4.30) so the guilt is considerably reduced.

I am worried now. I went to university to ask about changing the course and I have to wait till September for an answer. While I am positive that they will let me switch to a B.A. course, I am quite scared that they will not let me do an Honours in English, which means that I either have to repeat first year or else stay in B.ed (noooo)... For a while yesterday I felt really sure that everything was gonna be ok but now it all still seems too good to be true. Mum is expectedly disappointed because she once again views giving up on teaching as an act of low self-esteem and a high degree of laziness, but for once in my life, I am well and truly convinced about something. I do NOT want to teach. Period. The funny and yet tragic thing is- I knew this all along. I know myself well enough to know that teaching is not my kind of job. However, I repressed it so as to be on the safe side. That's the funny way I am wired up. Anything goes as long as it's safe. I am an anarchist's walking nightmare. Anyways now I just have to wait and see.

Last Monday Desiree came over and we had a lovely night in- laughing and talking and giggling and watching a really nice film. It's called Stranger than Fiction and it is about a man who, one fine day, starts hearing a voice narrating his own life as it happens. Which is oddly resonant, since I often find myself narrating my own life as I float absent-mindedly from one place to another. I hope this does not mean I need to get a life. I wish I could blog better but I am truly exhausted after staying up watching The Count of Monte Cristo with my sister till two last night (Gorgeous men have to be appreciated), teaching all day long today, crying and shouting a lot as well as lesson-planning (the joy). These are tiring days but I think that finally I have grown up enough to know what I want and to try and get it. I will go and rest now and keep my fingers crossed for next Sepember's decision...

Till next time, take care
Lizzy
xxxx

A time to blog

Work at EF started last Monday and the first couple of days were rather nightmarish. I had not taught for almost a year and I sure could feel the strain. Now I can appreciate the bliss of sitting down quietly waiting for a lesson to be delivered rather than having to deliver it yourself. Hearing my own voice boom back eerily from the bare-walled classroom and having a dozen and a half hormonal teenagers staring blankly at me expecting me to produce little doses of fun is not exactly the perfect way to spend summer. I must admit I am not the liveliest of teachers. Nothing ever seems to work for me. Grammar exercises, conversation, activities, games, you name it- all that I try out in class seems to draw nothing more than groans from the little brats. Ok I admit, there are some really nice co-operative students but some classes are just, well, quite hopeless. Later on in the week things got slightly better. I got used to being in class and made some new friends in the staffroom. I realised I did not have to mind my students' disapproval. The thing is, when you're determined that your students should do an activity, they WILL do it. A classic example was last Friday morning, when, miraculously enough, I managed to get twelve Italian/Spanish students spend 45 minutes trying to figure out how to write a rather challenging picture story. And, wait for this, they did it SILENTLY! YES! Okay, so probably it was their hangover that quieted their groaning so much but, in any case, it was bliss for the teacher sitting leisurely at the desk! I was tempted to start producing my evil grin...

However, I will still switch to a single shift as soon as the current groups leave because teaching from 9 till 4.30 is basically ruining my summer, there's no other way around it. It is a good experience and it does do wonders for my self-esteem and assertiveness but I am not exactly aiming to become SuperPersonality by the end of the summer so I guess I'll take it easy. Moreover, I will try to find a more relaxed job by next summer. (Please God please God pleeeease!)

The morale of this whole story is that I do not think that teaching is the right job for me. Period. This realisation is not based solely on this experience, mind you. No matter how hard I try, I just do not like to deal with so many people at a time. I've always valued being left to think in peace and quiet on my own and teaching is the complete opposite. Since I am stupid enough not to have admitted this earlier and to have kept on trudging on in the Education course, such a relevation puts me in deep shit. I am supposed to go to the Faculty Officer/ the Registry/ the Head of Department as soon as possible to see what I have to do to switch to B.A.. I have a sneaking suspicion I will have to repeat the year but we will see. I hope everything works out okay and my mum does not freak out too much. I also hope and pray I make the right decision. And I also hope I will not be unemployed for eternity. We will see.(the favourite phrase of any master of passiveness). I have to realise that I am grown up now and that the only way I can be successful is to be happy doing whatever I do, even if it is more difficult to find a secure job. And my parents understand. They always do in the end.

I wish I could blog in a more polished way but I am a bit too busy at the moment (groooann!) and, being a rather slow blogger, I do not have so much time for it now
:(. Watching Live Earth online at the moment but I think I will miss/ might have missed Keane. Groan!

Till next time,
Take care
xxxxxxxxx

Bryan! Bryan!

It has been a week since I last blogged because, believe it or not, I have been too busy! Yes! busy! in this weather! And I am not busy with countless types of ways to amuse myself. I am busy with seminars and assignments as well as work, which starts on Monday. Right now I am supposed to be working on my Interpersonal Skills assignment(which is thankfully turning out better than I thought), yet I simply cannot do anymore after working on the process notes and starting the actual final essay today. Sigh. As regards work, I really do not feel like facing complete strangers every single day for the next seven to eight weeks. It wears me out, the little wimp that I am.

As you can see, today's title is yet another tour de force of subtlety. Yesterday I went to the Bryan Adams concert unexpectedly with Chris. It was the first proper concert of my entire life but that was as far as my enthusiasm went. The last time I had listened to Bryan Adams songs with that sparkle of approval in my eye goes back to when I was eleven or twelve, probably just before I became a Miserable Outcast and a dedicated Radiohead fan. (ref. Dark Ages post). Yet once the concert started I could see what made/makes Bryan Adams such a star. His songs make you feel really good and at the end of the day there is nothing like a positive attitude and a catchy melody to give you that warm glow. I found myself digging up his songs from the recesses of my childhood memories and the lyrics just started flowing effortlessly (and rather out of tune) out of my mouth. I was singing along at the top of my lungs as well as screaming like my life depended on it. Morale of the story- Large-scale concerts are seriously good fun and I should start dragging myself to them whenever they happen. Morale number two- I cannot sing!

Despite the great night (hence the title) I woke up this morning with a dull worry buzzing at the back of my head. It is a rather private matter, so I will refrain from going into it. However it is one of those things I keep trying to solve but I keep tumbling wearily into failure. So I listened to this sweet sweet song I found. And that was me trying to post a link. Hope it works. Sweet songs always seem to attach a certain allure to having problems and they always make you think that there is someone who will make it all okay in the end. That's why they're so indispensable.

I think I have moaned quite enough for today and I shall leave you to enjoy your summer in peace. Till next time, I'll wish you countless airconditioned rooms and delicious ice-creams!

Take care
Lizzy
xxxx

Sweet summer days

Summer (the official natural season not the holidays) started today and it started very well indeed. Last night I met up with two of my oldest friends- Desiree and Andrea- at Birzebbugia. We just walked by the sea, ate chocolate ice-cream, gossiped and giggled and talked, and then finally we went to swing on the swings (I'm sure that there must be some other verb but anyways), which is the perfect thing to do after eating chocolate ice-cream, I'm quite sure lol. Anyways, lovely evening on the whole :). Also a big thanks to Deborah for the lovely gift she gave me earlier on:-D.

This morning I went to the sea with Desiree. I usually always go late in the afternoon at about five or six, either because of work or else because I'm too lazy. So it was nice to have a proper (half) day at the sea. First we went to swim at a really quiet place at Zonqor (in Marsascala). The water was really clear and very cool and there was no one but us so it was pretty much idyllic. At about eleven fifteen, an irrepressible urge for a Maltese ftira with fresh oil oozing out of it started haunting our poor stomachs ;so we had the brilliant idea of walking to San Tumas(another bay in Marsascala). Ever since the legendary hike (ref. earlier posts), I have become courageous in the face of such 'titanic' challenges, so the stroll in the scorching sun would have been pretty perfect had it not been for the green-eyed monster, which reared its head as soon as we started walking by those countless humungous villas which practically touch the sea! Why can't we ever learn to be happy for other people? Finally we arrived at San Tumas, bought our ftira and jumped back into the sea to cool down. We actually swam in the very tiny sandy part of the bay which usually looks like a murky little pond choked with way too much sand and seaweeds than it can handle. In fact, I had never swum there since I was a sand-castle-crazed child. But today the water was simply beautiful- crystal clear and cool and containing not too many homo sapiens- Ah the joys of early summer! After that I went home, showered, ate and collapsed on the bed and tonight just took it really easy.

It was a lovely day- a good antidote for the quiet little lonesome sad mood I had been cultivating of late. I'm not miserable, mind you, but I have been worrying about life and how I have to do something meaningful and all that. I've also been reading my sister's diary again.(I think she doesn't mind). It's the only way we communicate sometimes, and I'm perfectly aware of how similar we are, and of how she seems to anticipate my thoughts and dilemmas- she is older after all (to her dismay). We both have dreamt and still dream of becoming artists/writers of some sort and it's touching to read about that sense of failure and helplessness one feels most of the time. In any case, at least she's tried. All I've been doing is writing utter crap all of these years, or to be honest writing nothing most of the time. I wish I could write. Groan. Desiree and Andrea lectured me about having a positive attitude and about quitting being such a fearful wimp, yet I still think that most probably writing was not a feasible dream. Fullstop.

And Btw, I've listened to Early Winter by Gwen Stefani, which was actually written by Keane's pianist Tim. Oh dear me, I have such a crush on that guy! I haven't had such a crush on someone so unattainable since Batman! But Tim's so perfect he makes me want to weep. Sigh. Dream on hehe. Oh dear this blog has exceeded acceptable readable lengths. Must stop rambling and bid you farewell!

Until next time, enjoy zi sunshine!!! Take care!!!
Lizzy
xxxxx

Aimlessness

This post has a pretty straightforward title. I am not in the mood to look for pretty litle metaphors. Yesterday night I came to the realization that I do not have a life. I have all the parts, but not the whole. I have my health, my family, my friends, am doing well at university, have a good summer job, have books to read, CDs to listen to, even my little abode on the worldwide web (this blog). Yet, somehow it does not seem to gel. My days are no longer empty and I'm never stuck at home unless it's my decision. However a lot of the time I find myself wishing I could actually just close myself in my own little bubble. There always seems to be something that has yet to be sorted out, if you know what I mean. (Which would be quite an achievement since I don't exactly know what I mean either.) I still feel a bit hollow most of the time. I'd mentioned it in an earlier post but the whole mad rush of exam-time and the subsequent elation at the end of the school year made me forget about it. But now the feeling is creeping back in. Do not get me wrong, I'm not spending my days moping around miserably. I'm enjoying summer and very cheerful most of the time yet I do not feel fulfilled. It's always the same problem in the end. Time and youth are rushing past yet that dull worry of not making the most of it always keeps buzzing at the back of my head.

The thing with me is that I do everything by numbers. Especially when it comes to writing. I had written a whole post about going back to it. Well I have to admit it, I have not managed yet. Yes, I have been pressed for time. However, I think the problem is that I think that just because I read the 'right' poems and the 'right' novels and the 'right' authors and listen attentively to all the lectures and do well in the exams (thank God :)), I'm going to be creative. It sounds so absurd- I am simply unable to just do something , without thinking there is a right way and a wrong way to do it. I feel I have to learn the right way before I actually start. The thing is, not everything can be done that way and maybe I have to finally admit that I do not possess the creative spark. I feel like I have so much in my mind and then when it comes to writing anything beyond this blog, I cannot even blurt out one decent sentence. It's a bit like being really sad and yet unable to shed one single tear. Suffocating. And I am not saying it to fish for heartwarming compliments. It's no big deal after all. Life is good at the moment. This last week was a shiny sunny happy one, I went out a lot and I got some good results to celebrate, for which I'm very grateful :-D. And, who knows?, maybe I'll find out I'm good at something else, like drilling irregular verbs into the minds of stoned long-legged Russians and loud-mouthed tanned Italians. The joy!

Off to the beach now. Till next time, take care and happy holidays
Lizzy
xxxx