Honest Lies – Page 33 – "Okay, so I'm the dragon. Big deal. You still get to be the hero."

Welcome! Honest Lies is the personal site of a 26 year old graduate electrical engineer living in the UK. Covering every day life, books and various other randomness. Read more about me and the site here.

“It was like being in a maze where every path you choose is the wrong one, every path leads to a dead end. Except for one. There’s one path, which is the way out. I just needed to find it.”

It’s currently 2:30am.

I don’t want to fall asleep. I know it would be better for me to do something about my sleeping habits – to go to bed at a reasonable time and to wake up at a reasonable time, but I find myself desperately putting off going to bed. Even when I finally go to bed, I clutch at my smartphone, finding things to do. I can never ever fall asleep and I dislike just lying there, staring at the ceiling, at the walls, at my alarm clock where every minute lingers and its always too early or too late, still awake, always awake, trapped in my thoughts. I’ve started going to bed at 5am some nights, which is just crazy. I stay awake, wanting to exhaust myself. I feel so tired all the time, but that relaxed, sleepy state is always out of reach. Needless to say, Things still aren’t great. I really tried to have a better week though, and I sort of succeeded. I’m finally starting to get stuck into revision – I don’t think I’m doing enough, but then I never think I can do enough. I try and comfort myself that at least I’m doing something now.

The formal thesis draft was submitted last week and somehow my group members and I managed to pull it together into something much better than it was – although I’m still worried about it. We’ve not heard back from anyone. To be honest, I’m not sure how or when we will. And the days are ticking towards the final draft deadline and I think – surely its not ready to be submitted once and for all? Its just crazy, that somehow we’ve managed to put together a 60 page essay. Its my first time putting together such a long essay and it was certainly an experience – its hard, putting together something so long. Its so easy to derail, to go off on tangents. Its hard to make it cohesive and with a clear argument. I really wonder what the moderators think. My thesis is 30 credits, it could be the difference between a 2.2 and a 2.1. Needless to say, I want the 2.1.

I cannot believe I have to write a whole thesis myself next year. I’m not sure there’s anything I’m passionate enough to write 60 pages on it, which is probably the most distressing thing. Trying not think of that one.

My exams are also creeping closer. I’m trying not to think about that, too. Only two exams, yet it takes tremendous willpower to get any revision done. How on earth did I manage with 6 exams last semester? I feel terribly lazy. It feels terribly pointless. I think, well I have a 2.1 and I couldn’t even get a job so what’s the point of keeping up that standard? I feel utterly defeated by my failure. I know I’m supposed to learn from it and move the hell on, but I’m fairly tired. And I’m bored. Studying is really boring. My mind just wanders off, I can’t focus. Its the same as the sleep situation – its impossible me to really immerse myself in any one task. Its hard to get my thought to shut down, so that I can focus, or relax.

At the end of the day, the downside is that there’s just over a month left of everything. But that is the upside too. Just a month or so, and then I’ve got the rest of the summer stretching before me. So I’m not working, or got any plans beside. I’ll take the opportunity to enjoy the time off – it is after all my last free summer. The last summer I have to cling to being a child without any responsibilities. The next summer I’ll be a graduate and who knows what will be awaiting me then – I doubt its going to be pleasant, at the rate that some graduates get jobs. (This year, I let myself hope I wouldn’t be one of them, next year I’m not going to be so reckless.) For now, I’ve got this time to look forward to. A whole summer in my own space, a whole summer to relax and hopefully heal.

I’m struggling with my eating disorder right now. For a while it was going really well, but I crashed recently, slipping back into bad habits and its been hard trying to get myself back on track. I guess its linked to my low mood, this feeling of what’s the point? that tinges everything.

The other thing is: I’ve gained weight. I’ve gained a lot of weight in fact- for the first time since I was a child you could probably use the word chubby to describe me. Its unfair, I think. I’m eating better and doing more exercise and yet, I’ve gained weight. I’m struggling to accept it. I do not want to accept it. Yet the only way I can ever get myself to where I was is to starve myself. Why do I have to have the sort of body that only looks the way I want when I mistreat it? Why can’t I exercise, eat properly and be skinny? I want to fit into a a size 8, a size 10 at the max like I used to. Now I have to squeeze myself into a size 12 and I hate myself. I’m doing thing properly, for the most part. I’m trying to treat my body better. So why? I really hate it. I run my hands over my body and where there used to be the outlines of bone, there’s only the softness of fat. You can pinch my skin now, hold on. Its fascinating, in a grotesque way. My CBT modules tells me to love my body. I’m not quite sure how to go about doing that, when all my clothes don’t fit, and I feel all squishy, and I have all these curves in all the wrong places. I used to have the ideal figure – tall, skinny, no curves. Sure, I got that way because I was depressed and barely eating, but it felt good. It felt like the one thing I had – I was unhappy, I hated my personality, my skin was terrible, but I was thin. That really meant something to me. The fact that I’ve gained weight now just feels like another thing out of control, another thing that isn’t the way I want it to be. Why, I think. Why. I’m wrestling with myself – with the part of me that wants to better, to sort out my weird, distorted relationship with food (and all the things that come with it) and the part of me that just wants to give up – to just go back to the ways things were. I was thin then, at least.

I have my last therapy appointment on Wednesday. I’m fairly dreading it. I really liked my first therapy sessions, but now it feels like I’ve not made enough progress, that I’ve failed at getting better. I feel embarrassed by this, ashamed at facing my therapist like this. I don’t even know. I just feel like a bit of a failure right now. Its hard not to look at other people your age and wonder how they are so well put together. Oh, you know beyond the selfishness of your own sadness that they are probably struggling too in their own ways, they are just as insecure perhaps, that they basically have their own private demons to deal with most likely, but its so easy to slip into this feeling of being somewhat inadequate. Of being 21, and failing at it miserably. This summer I turn 22. I’ll have finished up my third year of university. The future comes ever closer, adulthood looms, and I do not feel ready for it at all.

Post Title: Elizabeth Haynes - Human Remains

Hundreds of thousands. Logen struggled to understand it. Hundreds . . . of thousands. Could there be so many people in the world? He stared at the city, all around him, wondering, rubbing his aching eyes. What might a hundred thousand people look like?

– The Blade Itself, Joe Abercrombie (First Law #1)

I did not go into this book with high expectations, but to my surprise reading this book reminded me of why I love fantasy – it can be so exciting and utterly riveting when done right. This book turned out to be great fun. I devoured it in days – completely immersed and thoroughly entertained. There is a lot in this book that is fairly typical to the genre – this is a classic fantastical country at war story, with some classic characters – a great mage, a strong but weary warrior, a twisted cripple, a dashing swordsman, some fairly corrupt politicians etc. Yet there’s enough different here, and the writing is strong enough that it hardly matters by the end.

The pacing of this book was just right – its a fairly compact book, and a lot happens, so there’s no time to get bored, but you never feel overwhelmed by whats happening either. The writing pulls you along when neccesary, and slows down likewise. The world building was detailed enough to get a sense of place and culture but not indulgent: the writing is minimalistic but conveys everything it needs to. I really liked the world he created – it was nice and gritty. There was plenty of violence and gore, but not to the point where it felt gratuitous. And he does a good job of showing what comes after violence – the effect is has on a person in particular. There was magic, but too much of it – the focus was on human politics which I liked. I also really liked how you get a sense of different cultures in the book and of different languages.

What really drew me to this book though, and held me to it, were the characters. The intelligent, weary warrior Logen, the spoilt, repulsive Jezal who I wanted to slap sometimes (and literally laughed out loud when his lady interest gave him a much deserved dressing down) but provides a…different perspective. I could appreciate that twist on the classic dashing swordsman – this is not a righteous man, he’s vain and arrogant and only letting himself being dragged into things because he wants the prestige. And my favourite character – Inspector Glokta. A very cynical and nasty man – but his thought processes are fascinating in how they contrast with his actions and the way he portrays himself. He is a lot more vulnerable than he shows, but also sharper and more aware. He also provides the book with a lot of its humour, a lot of very dark humour. Which is my favourite kind. They each give a different perspective on the major aspects of what’s going on. I thought the author did an amazing job of giving his characters unique voices, and portraying their personalities consistently in words and action – they were not just whatever the plot wanted, and they weren’t always successful or heroic. They were flawed, imperfect and not just in the angsty ways. I in particular loved the scene quoted above – where Logen come to the city for the first time- after a lifetime of living a in a much more remote, more sparsely populated region, and this confident warrior is now overwhelmed, gawking at everything, feeling lost, and anxious. I thought that so imaginative – how the author could think of that – what it would be like for that character in that situation and how he conveyed it. I also loved that he wasn’t afraid to take his strong warrior and give him aspects where he is weak. He’s not gruff or particularly macho – he’s just trying to stay alive which in his world, required him to become a brutal fighter. Again, it’s these little twists on the classic setups – well, the classic characters mostly – that stop the book from becoming too typical. There are a lot of great side characters too – everyone, no matter how small their part, feels like they have a personality and a life within this world.

This book immerses you in its world and its way of thinking. What it lacks in originality, it makes up for with great writing and great characters. It’s just so very intelligent, and imaginative. And funny. I immediately bought the second and third in the series and am looking forward to them.

“This is your heart, can you feel it?”

Ilam Hall Walking towards Bunster Hill
Ontop of Bunster Hill with Thorpe Cloud in the distance
Walking in the direction of Thorpe Cloud
Thorpe Cloud and the River Dove

Forest
Forest
Forest
Fishpond Bank

Path back to Ilam

I went walking with my dad yesterday. He only phoned me up on Sunday evening to tell me about it. This meant that I had little time to prepare for a very early start. I’d barely slept at all Friday night, and Saturday night likewise, so I’d spent most of Sunday asleep. I felt like I had just fallen asleep by the time my alarm went off at 5:45am on Monday morning. It took me a moment to realise the sound I was hearing was my alarm – I was confused by it, I was confused by the time on my alarm clock. Really? Am I supposed to be awake now? But I dragged myself out of bed anyway, went to shower and get ready. Managed to be late leaving the house anyway, and had to rush to the bus stop. My bus was at 6:50am. By 6:40am I was 15 minutes walk away from the bus station. I ran, walked, ran again. 6:50am on the dot I was there, breathing heavily, feeling slightly feint from the exertion when I hadn’t eaten and hardly slept, but the bus was not. 6:55am, bus still not there. I phoned my dad, panicked. Just as I hung up on my dad the bus came, what a relief. I boarded and arrived into town soon enough. I’d been planning on breakfast at Subway, but it was closed, so I went to Sainsbury’s local, where there were no dairy free options so I was forced to break my diet – I bought pastries, and then I felt guilty so I bought some fruit too. I got to the station and sorted out my tickets then got on the train. Just over an hour later – sometime after 9am- I arrived at Stoke-on-Trent station. I’ve always, always passed through this station to other places, so it was quite weird getting off the train here. My dad met me in the car park and we drove to the Peak District. Today my dad had planned a route in the Dovedale Valley. I’d been around this area before with my walking society, but a different area, and on a day with far worse weather than yesterday.

We started out from Ilam Hall, walking towards Bunster hill. We ascended Bunster Hill, passing many lambs with their mothers watching us warily. In the distance a farmer was herding up his sheep, whilst his sheep dog sat on the back of his tractor and watched. All these sheep were making a right racket, but otherwise it was peaceful. The weather was clear and warm, I’d brought my fleece, hat and gloves and wrapped up in many layers, but soon I was down to my tshirt. The ascent was a long slog, as all ascents are, but as we got higher a nice cool breeze picked up which was very welcome. The views were also beautiful – with the fields, and Ilam in the distance. As we walked along Bunster hill the view opened up so we could also see Thorpe Cloud on the other side of the hill we were on and Dovedale valley with the River Dove nestled in between. The shapes of other walkers were everywhere – Thorpe Cloud and the path alongside the River Dove were teeming with walkers, all of which we could see from above. We sat down to eat a snack – more pastries – then carried on.

We’d been planning to go back on ourselves to take a certain route down to Dovedale valley, instead we carried on to the end of Bunster hill in the direction of Thorpe Cloud. Once there we were faced with a tricky descent down to the valley – it was steep, and the ground was dry with many loose stones. My father held my hand most of the way down, supporting me every time I stumbled, whereas when he stumbled I tensed and had a moment of panic because he would only pull me down if he fell. We picked our way down successfully and then joined the crowds walking along the river. At a certain point on the path you have to cross the river along a set of stepping stones before the path resumes – here is where our path, and the path from Thorpe Cloud meet. There were so many people that there was actually a queue to use the stepping stones. They should build two different stepping stones for the different directions of traffic, my father joked. and another smaller one for the dogs, I followed. Eventually it was our turn and I held my fathers hand in both of my own, as the way the water swirled around the rocks was disorientating and I didn’t want to fall in – the water looked clear but in reality it is possibly diseased due to the presence of the sheep. Once across we carried along the river basically – up to lovers leap and down, then following the river past Ilam rock and all the way to Milldale, and further on towards Wolfscote Dale. By the time we reached Fishpond Bank, just before Wolfscote Dale or within it I’m not certain, the crowds had died down – most had parked off at lovers leap, or Milldale. The Fishpond Bank valley was very quiet. A man in the distance, fishing. A couple lounging by the river bank. Otherwise just us. The green fields were scattered with bright wild flowers. It was less polished there than the path leading up to Milldale, too.

We hardly talked as we walked all this way, and I felt myself falling into a strange, but very welcome relaxed state, my mind unfocused, my thoughts meandering but never settling, not ruminating over bad things. We stopped to eat lunch at Fishpond Bank before we carried on our walk along the river. Eventually we realised we would have to turn back as it was already 2:00pm, even though we both were interested in carrying on and seeing how the scenery would change as we continued to follow the river.

We backtracked to Ilam rock – at which point we changed directions, crossing the river and then taking a steep ascent on another path to Ilam – the path we were actually going to descend on, originally. We took this ascent very slowly- as it was relentlessly steep, and we were both tired. I had to stop quite often, to catch my breath. I felt hot and very thirsty for some reason, my mouth dry. The surroundings were pretty though – forest and more wildflowers, bluebells in early bloom and others. We walked back to Bunster hill and then descended on the same path we had ascended – passing the sheep again. Out of nowhere one of the lambs started to follow me – trotting after me whilst making plaintive sounds. “Why is it doing this?” I cried to my dad, as I picked up the pace, trying to get away from this tiny little creature now running after me. Thankfully its mother picked up on what was going on and called it back. “You nearly took home something extra” my father remarked. Anyway, we made it back to Ilam, where I persuaded my father to buy us a cold snack – ice cream for him, an ice lolly for me. It was a welcome treat. The whole day had turned out to be perfectly clear and very sunny, with a cool breeze on the hills. A good day for walking, actually. I was glad that it had not rained in particular.

We then went back to the car and my dad drove me to Uttoxeter station this time, only to find we’d missed the train we’d wanted by one minute. “At least we didn’t pull up as the train was pulling away,” I said. We went to a local retail park to a store and had a look at the plants, then ate supper at KFC. “All I’ve eaten today is pastries and this, really,” I said, a little dismayed “I guess walking 12 miles makes up for it?” We went back to the station and I got on the train. I felt a little wistful to be leaving my dad behind – a part of me wanted to go home, strangely. Actually, I really wanted to see my cat.

It was cold by then, and I was thoroughly tired out. Once back, I got the bus, and then another bus because the 30 minute walk back from the bus station seemed too much, and then finally I was back at my house.

It was a nice day – I was glad to get away for a bit. There’s something refreshing about taking a long, long walk. I can also see why Dovedale is one of the most popular sites in the Peak District. The walk is very friendly for all walkers – with nice paths, nice resting stops, even a little shop and toilets at Milldale. But you have all the beautiful scenery of the peak district alongside it – the river, the forests scattered with wildflowers, the caves and interesting rock formations, the impressive hills with some challenging enough ascents for those wanting a bit more from their walk. Very pleasant.

“I’m in pain – anger and hatred still remain in my heart”

I cannot be the only blog owner who finds it difficult to maintain their blog when they’re unhappy with how it looks? I’ve become thoroughly sick of this layout, and yet I’m having trouble replacing it – I want my site to look like this but not like this. I know, it makes no sense to me either. But I am likely making excuses. I’ve been feeling lazy, procrastinating over everything – now I’m even neglecting this place.

These past couple of weeks have been a mess.

I managed to get my business coursework submitted, and the thesis draft did get done – even without as much help from my group members as I would have liked, and with two chapters missing. I felt awful sending such a rough around the edges piece of work to my supervisor but there were hardly any alternatives. I got feedback from my supervisor back and it was a long email with lots to work on. After forwarding it to my group members there has been little progress. I’m so worried about this project. Yet, I don’t know what to do about it – should I just write the missing chapters myself? Should I send yet another email to ask for someone else to do it? Do I just give up? Right now, I’m close to answering yes to no.3.

I also got my other coursework back – my circuit design coursework. I got a pathetically low mark. I could have cried. Instead I hesitantly texted my friend to vent a little. It did not remove my disappointment or my hurt over it, but it did help a little bit. I felt proud for having the courage to reach out to someone.

One of the things that constantly comes up in my counselling is the importance of socialising, or rather the importance of getting out the house and doing things, preferably with others. It always makes me uncomfortable when talking about friends and hobbies comes up in my sessions. I don’t have many friends and my hobbies feel quite pathetic (does reading even count as a hobby?) But it makes me more uncomfortable thinking about why its like this. Though I have been trying to take the advice of my therapist.

This week I’ve stepped out of my comfort zone twice. I went to dinner with my Japanese classmates and teacher on Tuesday. It was a little awkward – I tried my best, but I caught myself rambling a couple of times. At least I caught myself, before it go too bad. I did enjoy it a little, but it also left me feeling tired and embarrassed. Then on Thursday I went to see Cats with a friend. I’d asked them ages ago to go with me, and I’ve been nervous ever since. I don’t know them that well but they made attempts to set up things with me at the beginning of the year which I’d always passed on – never rejecting, but never confirming, too afraid to say yes outright. What if they were only being polite? I’d think. So they naturally gave up asking. I wanted to face my fear, I guess. And so I worked up the courage to ask them. I thought if I reached out to them it would make it better- show that I do want their friendship. Perhaps value their friendship? Something like that. I guess I just thought I should stop waiting for something to happen and make it happen instead. Be decisive! Yes, that is probably it.

Anyway, we went to dinner and then on to the show. It started out shakily – they were late, the restaurant was busy. We stood by the bar and chatted and I stuck my hands in my pocket to keep myself from fidgeting – am I saying the right things? Am I being interesting enough? Do they want to be here? These kind of thoughts cycled in my mind. During the lapses in conversation my anxiety would spike and I’d feel panicky, like I should say something, anything. Thankfully this time I managed to keep myself from blurting out strange things to fill these gaps, as is my usual trick. We really over planned it, and so finished dinner about an hour before the show despite the initial 30 minute wait to be seated. We went to the concert hall and sat about for a bit. I was really restless, really anxious by this point, but maybe a little excited. Yet once the show started I was so aware of their presence, so caught up in new thoughts of are they finding it interesting? are they regretting coming here? that I found it difficult to really enjoy it.

After the show, and I had parted with my friend I went to McDonalds and bought myself food. Yes, I had just gone to a restaurant – but I’d been so nervous and self conscious that I couldn’t bring myself to eat a lot in front of them. What if they think I’m eating too much? I don’t want to appear greedy or fat. That’s my eating disorder there – its hard to eat around others. I was starving by the time I left my friend, and I was anxious too so I wanted to eat. I sat at the bus stop staring longingly at the Tesco in front of me – thinking about chocolate, and chips, eating until I felt sick from it, until I didn’t feel anything else but that sickness. I felt slightly shaky, panicked, upset, embarrassed. I sat on the bus and ate my fries – the tiny amount of food I allowed myself to indulge in because I knew I was actually hungry in part – feeling like a pig, feeling utterly ridiculous. The embarrassment growing even worse. I just wanted to be home, away from people. If it was possible to crawl out my own skin, to disappear completely, then that too.

So I don’t get what my therapist is trying to tell me.

I’ve tried to be a bit more social this week. But it stresses me out, leaves me feeling wrecked by anxiety and embarrassed. Even though theoretically I had two nice evenings, I was too anxious and worried to completely enjoy them. That’s pathetic isn’t it? I know I should feel happy in those situations but I just don’t. The anxiety never, ever leaves me. I cannot relax and if you aren’t relaxed how are you supposed to feel happy? I don’t understand. I can cope with texting someone about work- thats ‘safe’- but actually spending a good amount of time in another persons company…its a bit much.

Its Sunday now and I still feel anxious and embarrassed. I have the programme from cats sat on my desk, taunting me. I cringe whenever I see it. Why did I do that? I’m never going to be able to look at a poster or hear cats without remembering these feelings now.

With all this going on – with my anxiety as it has been – with the way work has been going, or not been going, with the stress of trying to socialise, I’ve totally undone all my work for therapy these past couple of weeks. I’m going to bed too late, waking up in the afternoons, eating badly. Its sickening. But I cannot be bothered to fix it. I feel so worried, stressed and anxious that I’ve come to a complete standstill. Given up. I’m hurt, and I’m lonely, and I’m frustrated – I have all these feelings, thoughts, emotions and I cannot process them, don’t know how to deal with them.

I know I always say this – that tomorrow will be better. But I’m really going to try to get back on track this week. Tomorrow I’m going out walking with my dad, and then I’m going to try and get some good revision done the rest of the week. I really want to work on my time management – with no lectures to attend to I have more than enough time in theory to watch all the dramas and read all the books I want even whilst getting revision done. I just need to stop procrastinating. I just need to remember, 2 hours of aiming to get something done is better than 5 hours sitting there fretting that you’re not doing enough.

And I will get a new layout up for this place, too.

Post Title: MC Sniper - Danger

Goodbye Days

So I had my Japanese exam this evening. I really was as unprepared as I thought I was and yet I found myself, very weirdly, enjoying myself. I’m sure that’s going to come back to bite me. But well, its doing wonders for my mood that I came away feeling good about it despite the whole completely unprepared for this aspect.

Perhaps this is one of those situations if you don’t laugh, you’ll end up crying.

I had been told the exam would start at 6pm. Naturally, I spent most of today distracted and fretting over it. I arrived at the exam 20 minutes early, sitting down outside the room to wait. There were only a handful of people, to my surprise. Time ticked by, well passed 6, with more people turning up and then finally the moderator appeared. More time passed and I was confused, so I asked the girls next to me and they said their exams were starting at 6:30pm. Could my Japanese teacher have at least given me the right time for my exam?! Like seriously, there I was with no idea of what I was being examined on and no idea of even the right exam time. At least I got the right room, hey. At about 6:25 there was a large group of people gathered and the moderator finally started calling everyone in by their languages. There was good mix of languages at various levels- Greek, Serbian, Portuguese, Spanish, German, French. Finally it was just me and a handful of other students. A bunch more were called in, leaving just me and two girls sitting next to me who were doing French Level 1. So…I was the only Japanese level 2. The fear that perhaps I had been forgotten about gripped me, and strengthened when the girls were called in and I was left sitting outside. Thankfully the moderator came out again to fetch me and she had a paper for me.

The exam started before I’d even finished taking out my belongings – it was very informal, no rules about bags at the front or anything. It was a nice atmosphere for an exam – a small-ish group, no heavy rules.

Firstly, before I could forget, I hastily scribbled out my essay – which to my surprise I had managed to memorize. I was painfully aware of how fragile my kana and kanji are though. They usually aren’t the neatest, but nerves were making my hands shake which was making it worse. Nonetheless, that task done I went back to the beginning started the exam properly. I could have laughed when I went through the exam paper. I have never tackled Japanese in this manner ever. There were three sections – the first section I was given a huge chunk of text to interpret in various ways – the first question involved fairly open ended questions that I had to give true or false answers to. The other questions asked to answer questions about the text, and yet another wanted me to suggest an ending sentence to the text. hahaha. I did my best though – highlighting the text and translating it to the best of my abilities. It was so overwhelming and yet fascinating – I could feel my mind working through it, sinking into the task, becoming utterly focused on it and even enjoying trying to interpret it.

There was a little bit at the end of section A then asking me to give the readings for kanji and their meanings which was unexpected – my teacher had said it didn’t matter about kanji. That was nice. :|

The next section involved verbs and oh I struggled here – there was one whole question on conjugating verbs and I couldn’t for the life of me remember how. I then had to fill in the blanks for a bunch of other sentences which was a bit better but then I had to translate from english to Japanese for several sentences. I have never translated from English to Japanese. ever. that was…interesting. again: hahaha. I’d definitely given up on doing well and was just having fun with it. I guess because it is not part of my degree I could afford to have fun with it – I didn’t have my degree class hanging over my head. I could just sit there and do my best and to my surprise I could make a guess for everything. I am certain that a lot of it is wrong but I felt pretty pleased that I could at least have a go. At the end of the day I had never done anything like this before, and I had no idea about the exam even – was I supposed to write on the question sheet? in the answer booklet? How? I had no idea what I doing in any aspect. and yet, I tackled it without panicking and I even enjoyed it. I was reminded of – despite all my complaining – just how much I love Japanese and I love how it allows me to use different thought processes compared to my degree. This is what I thrive on: problem solving. Taking a task, breaking it down, finding the solution. This is one of the reasons why I chose engineering – but this is also why I love doing Japanese. It allows me to problem solve in different ways, to test myself and think in different directions. Its more open ended, not quite as methodical, or rather there are different patterns to it.

I found myself completely absorbed so at 8:30 when I finally surfaced I was surprised to look around and find the classroom empty apart from another guy. I wasn’t sure if the exam was even over – the moderator hadn’t announced anything. But I felt pretty embarrassed to be left there – the other guy was even packing up and about to leave. So I decided to accept that I had probably done all I could and I handed it in. Who knows what will become of it – I am hoping that my essay will be enough to get me through. Although that’s a point – the section C was all that essay, however the essay question was worded slightly differently from what my teacher gave me. But I’d like to think that when my teacher helped me to write it she did so geared towards the exam- she wouldn’t help me write a totally unrelated essay? She’s help me get maximum marks? I really hope so.

I left the exam and walked home – even though it was dark and I know technically I shouldn’t walk home so late. I was feeling pretty hyper – pumped up with nerves and adrenaline, my mind still working away. Despite my anxiety I felt pretty good – I hadn’t sat there panicking, confused, I’d approached the exam and tackled it and did my best. I was also so glad I’d chosen to get it over with today – I could have left the exam until later in the week and on Sunday I was wondering why I hadn’t – but it had been a good choice to get it over with as quickly as possible.

Now that the exams for this are over its back to my daily kanji practice – an hour curled up in front of the heater mindlessly writing out kanji is strangely meditative and is something I enjoy. I am also going to sign up for a Japanese level 2 refresher course over April I think, as that’s more focused on speaking. It would be good to have the opportunity to have some more speaking practice as that isn’t something I will have access to otherwise, and its my weakness after all.

I guess sometimes I doubt why I am learning this language – its not like I have enough else to do. But I love this language so much and even though I’m progressing so, so slowly at learning it I need to keep reminding myself that I am making some progress. If I just keep on trying eventually I’ll get there right? I just must avoid going down the path of how is this going to be useful for my future kind of thoughts. At the end of the day its hardly a good business language to have and although I still cling to my hopes of moving to Japan… at my age I’m well aware I’m delusional. and yet, and yet. I just love this language so much. I love that country so much. I was talking to my family the other weekend and we were discussing our favourite places and I didn’t even have to hesitate – Cape Town, followed by Japan. I’m still that 13 year old dreaming of this fantastic, unique place, testing out the sound of this new, foreign language on my tongue, getting lost in it, becoming totally enamoured with it. You’d think 8 years later somehow I would have gotten over it but I never have. It stresses me out, it makes me feel inadequate, but I’m still besotted. More determined than ever to make progress.

So I do hope that I did better than I thought.

This entry is weirdly upbeat compared to the last bunch isn’t it? It’s what I was talking about in a previous posts – these ups and downs in my mood. Today for some reason was a good day. I had a few shaky moments but ultimately I managed to cope and keep on top of my negative thoughts. I hope tomorrow can be a good day too. Its such a relief to feel positive and fairly relaxed for once.

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