Reality...Check

I've spent so much time this summer doing what feels like nothing.

It involves a lot of reading, quite a bit of writing, loads of manuscript formatting to send stories out, dog walking, reading interesting blogs, playing mafia wars on facebook, eating, writing this blog...these sorts of things.

Today is the first day however that I can register for my course for the next year. Which will be my final year. I have three modules left to do in order to obtain a degree: A sociology research module, a cognitive psychology module, and a basic literature module just to make up the numbers.

I do love literature but it might be weird studying it. Will it make me feel completely inadequate as a writer? The module is being revised but as far as I know it'll still have Shakespeare (Hamlet - which I've never actually read before, and am kind of looking forward to, even though I know the basic premise of the story), Ibsen (A Doll's House, which I read when I was 18 or so and have long since forgotten) and Yeats (Bleugh - moany old git of a poet who never stopped bloody complaining), plus a few others.

One of the reasons I didn't study it before is that there isn't an awful lot that a Literature degree leads to - except teaching, and I think I'd rather blow my head off than be a teacher in the existing education system at least. Hence the sociology and psychology - though seeing as there are no jobs going at all these days, I could probably put down on my CV that I have a degree in advanced nuclear engineering and still be told I'm under qualified to work at a checkout.

And then of course there's the fact that assignment deadlines tend to be in mid December, mid February and early April. With a newborn baby, that will be interesting. I might not have much time to focus on doing anything but scraping a bare minimum of marks in Lit, as it's the other two modules which will count toward my final degree marks.

I really should try to get a headstart, and start reading Hamlet or something now. But I have several books from the library that I really want to read first, like H.P. Lovecraft's short stories, and a book about the science behind Star Trek. And then there are loads of other things to do as well, like write. And pick a fantasy football team. And....and....and...

So I might as well enjoy doing nothing and feeling little baby kicks and stuff while I can....as I may be very busy over the Winter! 

I still dream of smoking

Hmm...ok, this is a test post as much as anything, as I'm aiming to set it to post over the weekend when I won't be online. So...hopefully it does!

I still dream of smoking, like the title says.

I gave up almost 5 months ago now - soon as I found out about being pregnant.

In a way that made it easier - I didn't have a choice about giving up, the way I put it to myself. Harming myself is one thing, but I really didn't want to harm my child. So I quit.

Soon after quitting I started having mad dreams about smoking. One of the scariest and most vivid involved being shot at, and getting away from the shooters, then stopping for a cigarette - which I justified on the grounds of "well, I've been shot at - that's a bad enough thing to have happened to make it ok for me to smoke now".

Strange, the way the mind works. I dreamed of smoking last night as well, though nothing so frightening thankfully.

Your brain definitely plays tricks on you when you're fighting an addiction. I mean, I woke up from that dream months ago almost wishing I had been shot at, because somehow my justification logic for smoking in that situation seemed sound. Also, I think the grumpiness that comes with being off the fags is a trick of the brain too. Your brain wants you to fight with your friends and family, so you'll feel upset, and reach for that common crutch - a cigarette. You create a scenario that is plausibly upsetting enough to justify smoking again.

Manipulated by my own mind. A scary thought. Is my consciousness or subconscious self the one in control?

At least I've managed to stay off them so far. I like being healthier, I like knowing I'm not giving an as yet unborn baby a nicotine addiction, among a long list of other health benefits to not smoking while pregnant.

I think I'll always be an addict though - I'll always have the odd craving. I'll just have to fight them off one at a time.

Solitude and Silence

I have a strange personality. At times I come out of tests as introverted, others as extroverted. There are occasions when I will ignore a ringing phone or knock at the door if at all possible, and other times when I crave company and conversation.

What is even more interesting about that is that I learned earlier this year in psychology that introversion and extroversion are actually created by brain processes. Introverts have a high level of cortical arousal, meaning they seek out silence, while extroverts have low levels of cortical arousal and therefore seek out company, noise and excitement. Is my brain moodier than the rest of me?

When writing though, I am definitely in introvert mode. Ultimately I think I swing more in that direction. I can be sociable, but it takes more effort, even when I want it, then being alone. There are so many things I can do when I'm alone. As many things as there are ideas in my head or books on my bookshelf. Writing and reading suit solitude and silence. Sometimes I like music on in the background, but frequently I'll forget to change the CD when it finishes. I'm barely even aware of it, and I tend to concentrate better on writing at least without it being on at all.

No distractions. The dogs can bark and I'll barely hear it, though at other times I'd find the noise ear-splittingly loud. The cat can go unfed, for all that she whines about it - also quite vociferously, I might add, she has a hell of a miaow for one so small.

There are always distractions, if I seek them out. I have an email notifier, and as well as the daily emails from various mailing lists, organisations, etc, as well as those from friends, and prospective editors, I have facebook and twitter set up to email me whenever someone sends me a private or direct message. When I'm trying to force myself to write (or more often, to edit something I've already written) these distractions do just that. Distract me. When I'm in a truly creative flow though, nothing can interrupt. Little flashes on the screen or noises - I hardly even notice them, and they soon go away.

When really writing, I seek silence and solitude.