A notepad for a mind

Peruse at your own discretion.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

An Intertextual Rant of Exam Period Insanity
(A symphony of revalations in three movements)

You'd think the first few times I had no motivation to study for a philosophy exam and consequently nearly failed the subject would have taught me something. I can't work out if I'm a slow learner, or just a victim of my own stubbornness (or Melbourne University's newfound love of terminating subjects the year I wish to study them, forcing the study of crappy lesser alternatives to contribute to my minor. Oh, Melby; you used to be cool). Once I'm through tomorrow, I'm going to try harder to pretend I give a damn about stuff that will never have any relevence to my life ever again. At least until the end of my degree. That's what most of these educated academic derelicts who know shit seem to be doing.

Given my current mental state, I shouldn't let the disheartening realisation that Andrew Lloyd Webber ripped the Phantom's "Oveture" off Pink Floyd's track "Echoes" make me love his work or the world any less. Right? But it's 5 am, I can't sleep, and I have to be up in two hours to trek to uni to study for an exam I have the following day for which there is little hope. Taking my frustration out on a composer I'm never going to meet who made a sequel to a musical that should never have a sequel makes me feel a lot better. ("Love Never Dies"? "Love Never Dies"?  Would you like some fries with your cliche, Webber? I'm sorry, but in the novel your musical's based on your protagonist wasted away and died of freakin' heartbreak. Art is not for money. Way to trivialise.)

I have a habit of writing lengthy blog posts or notes or poorly articulated ideas when exhausted and frustrated and then never posting them, or deleting them a day or so later. An unrivalled need to have something to say followed by the realisation that I'm really the only one who cares and the only one who has anything to say about it. God forbid I become one of those people for whom writing is an outlet for their own misery with no provision of food for thought... But hell, at least it's honest. Unlike my exam responses will be on Friday. Maybe I can put my needs to better use if I'm smarter, or if I find more things to write about that I actually care about -  which, in a world seemily composed primarily of bigots and indifference and misguidedly 'tragic' martyrdom ("hypocrite!" the hatemonger cries), are increasingly hard to come by. Eh, what can you do.

"The Heavens" photo by Javier Evertz.