don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody

I think I was 13 when I read The Catcher in the Rye for the first time. I don't think at the time I knew quite why I liked it, but I definitely did. I distinctly remember it being one of, if not the first 'adult' book I'd read and I think at the time that was probably part of its charm. My dad had always let me read whatever I wanted to read (eternally grateful) and I think that's one of the reasons I find censorship so difficult to comprehend. But that's a story for another day.

I re-read Catcher for GCSE English, and I'm almost certain I was the only class member to have read it before. We were the only class that had it assigned to us (eternally grateful), our teacher insisted upon having us read it instead of Of Mice and Men.

I began to read differently. Obviously we'd analysed prose before, but this was something so much more than just looking at sentence structure. What did the hunting cap mean? Why all the fuss about the ducks? Do I really care about this kid, who let's face it, can sometimes be a bit annoying?

But I did care. I cared so much. I hated Holden one minute and loved him the next and over time I realised I could feel so many different things towards this figment of Salinger's imagination because he was opening up facets of myself that I hadn't quite been able to access before. He's alone and afraid and he doesn't know what's going to happen to him when the pond freezes over.

Without Salinger I wouldn't be studying Literature. Eternally grateful.

karma

I have so many things to talk about. So, so, so many things.

Sadly absolutely none of them are Internet friendly and thus I shall skip around them with ease and wit.

I will however say this...I still can't say I like university, but oh MY has it been entertaining the past few days. I've been wearing a jacket that states 'what comes around goes around' for several days now (laundry will be done today, I promise) and I think it must have magic powers or something equally as awesome. I need to be in the vicinity of my best friend to tell her about it and do silly impressions and show her ridiculous text messages. Sadly we live in different frickin' countries and for some reason national rail are adverse to giving out free train tickets for necessary situations such as this.

Semester two starts tomorrow and I, of course, have absolutely no idea where I'm supposed to be for anything. I should probably sort that out. I'm looking forward to having stuff to do in the day. Especially when that stuff is 'read books and talk about those books'. It's kinda my favourite thing.

It seems I don't have anywhere near as much to say as I thought I did...secret stuff is fun but not very conducive to blog writing.

I moved flats. I can't remember (nor can I be bothered to check) if I mentioned that before now. Well...I did. Friday night I came in at half 2ish and one of my flatmates was passed out in front of my door next to his own vomit and, as I found out the next day, lying in his own piss. Needless to say I didn't attempt to venture to my room.

Why am I so unlucky with people?

i have no idea what number day this is

I'll be honest, this 100 days project isn't going all too swimmingly. However, I should be revising right now and thus blog writing feels awfully appealing (oof look at that alliteration right there. Maybe I should analyse my own writing, I think that'd count as revision/extreme narcissism).

So it's 2010, eh? Resolutions anyone? Do share.

I have a mass of the things, but not really because it's a new year or anything. I tend to make them constantly throughout the year, allows them to change and grow and suchlike. I'm not good with definite things. Too...definite. Probably.

Aforementioned revision is going horrifically, which probably isn't a good sign considering my first exam is on Monday. I should probably be more worried, but I know I'll get it done and I know I'll do alright. It's my least favourite module at my least favourite place in the world, so I'm not exactly all too bothered by not excelling in it. Ask me again on Sunday and I'll be nervous as hell, but que sera, sera!

This holiday has been gorgeously refreshing. If ever there were a case of pathetic fallacy, it's been the past few days. The snow is stunning. Pure, crisp and fresh. Feeling alive and yet knowing it's going to melt. I wouldn't be surprised if come Sunday it had all gone. Unfortunately I don't think the weather quite reflects my own state of being quite that accurately. It's a good thing really. It'd take away from my continual vagueness if anyone cottoned on.

Yesterday and the day before have been pure poetry. The day before should have been awful. Really terrible. I had one of those horrific stomach sinking realisations and that feeling hung around for a while (I suppose it's still sort of around, but I'm coping well. If I'd been at university I think it would have been a completely different story), but then I just read some Medieval crap outloud in a melodramatic way and had an impromptu one person dance party in my bedroom and it was just...really good. It was nice. I felt like me. It's been a while since I've been able to say that. I do hope it continues.

Yesterday was wonderful. Two lovely lovely people, sledging, moments of genuine cow fear, hot chocolate and a film about blue people. That's another magic thing about snow. Everyone regresses to children. My mum threw a snowball at me. My mum is somewhat mental, but it still threw me off guard. I love home.

I AM NOT THINKING ABOUT SUNDAY LALALALA. IGNORANCE IS BLISS.

I've been here just under a month and I haven't seen the one person I used to spend almost every possible moment with. I'm not okay with that, but I'm...better. Time to put an end to all this tragic pining.