Saturday night I went to Shinsuke's house for a Halloween party. Not knowing where it was, I met him on his bike in my car, outside a foreign foods store right near to his place. I followed him through the pouring rain as he pointed the way with sharp jabs of his umbrella left and right.
Most of the others there had costumes. Then there were two guys who had matching suits, hair-cuts and name-badges, and I wanted to ask, 'What did you come as, tax inspectors?' Turns out they were two of the Mormon missionaries here in Yamagata from Shinsuke's conversation class, and no, they weren't in costume.
I met Shinsuke's family too, all of whom were really warm and welcoming. Turns out his Dad has visited England- he went to Stevenage (the next town along from my home town Hertford) about 20 years ago. Stevenage isn't the nicest place in the world. But it was the first new town in the world, so Stevenage it was Shinsuke's father and some other representatives from the Yamagata city hall visited those years ago.
I wanted it to be true a little too much. I asked, 'So....Yamagata is modelled on Stevenage??'
Shinsuke's Dad said a little, just the south part.
Monday 29 October 2007
Sunday 28 October 2007
Hello cold
I got really excited the other day. I've got an electric toilet seat heater, and I used it for the first time in months.
Friday 26 October 2007
Imoni Kai
I've eaten Imoni 6 times so far this year, but today's bowl was the loneliest, after it had promised to be so much fun.
Let me see now....there were two double header weekends when I had it twice, once on Saturday and once on Sunday. Wait, hold on, first things, I should explain what it is. Imoni is a local stew, although it's not thick like Irish stew, more soupy and lumpy. It's renowned across Japan, and if you want to eat Imoni, then Yamagata is the place to do it. In August they hold the biggest Imoni Kai (Imoni party) in Japan by Mamigasaki river, feeding some 30,000 people from a giant bowl they ladle and mix with mini diggers greased with butter.
The stew itself has, in more or less equal quantities- fatty beef (just how Japanese people love it), thick leeks (Negi), Devil's Tongue- a gelatinous and tasteless substance- and of course the legendary Imoni potato. It's stickier than your average King Edward or Maris Piper, halves reluctantly falling apart as you pincer it between chopsticks. After that, it's soy, sake, water, some other stuff. So much for Shouyuu Aji (i.e. taste or flavour). Miso is quite a different beast, but that can be dealt with another time.
So I had Imoni at the old school nurse, Ito-Sensei's place, during which I stared at her daughter Tomoko for long periods of time, then there was an Imoni Kai with the Yamagata Univeristy Frisbee guys by the river, at which I met Tomoko's boyfriend and I felt a little lighter and not one teeny sad at all but glad, strangely. There was one up in Sakata, there was one on Tuesday this week inside the Washington Hotel with the City Hall people, there was another my mate Shinsuke organised on a day to hot to walk in the sun, let alone eat steaming hot stew. We ate it standing ankle deep in the river water, until we finished and jumped in kit and kaboodle.
Then there was today's, at Osato Shogakko (Elementary School). I'd been looking forward to it for ages- the kids form groups, big kids little kids all jumbled up and they each have their own pot that they each manage. I went along last year, didn't take a camera, kicked myself. The Imoni itself isn't great, but that's not the point- the kids made it. I think the Imoni potatoes they grow too, so they see it through from plant to pig-out.
But today I had lessons at another Elementary School it looked like rain it rained they started early at Osato and by the time I arrived they'd all finished and were busy washing up their pots. I had my bowl, saved just for me, in the teacher's room. They kids were all outside- it was play-time, and I heard one teacher say it'd all worked out perfectly, the kids had just finished washing up.
Let me see now....there were two double header weekends when I had it twice, once on Saturday and once on Sunday. Wait, hold on, first things, I should explain what it is. Imoni is a local stew, although it's not thick like Irish stew, more soupy and lumpy. It's renowned across Japan, and if you want to eat Imoni, then Yamagata is the place to do it. In August they hold the biggest Imoni Kai (Imoni party) in Japan by Mamigasaki river, feeding some 30,000 people from a giant bowl they ladle and mix with mini diggers greased with butter.
The stew itself has, in more or less equal quantities- fatty beef (just how Japanese people love it), thick leeks (Negi), Devil's Tongue- a gelatinous and tasteless substance- and of course the legendary Imoni potato. It's stickier than your average King Edward or Maris Piper, halves reluctantly falling apart as you pincer it between chopsticks. After that, it's soy, sake, water, some other stuff. So much for Shouyuu Aji (i.e. taste or flavour). Miso is quite a different beast, but that can be dealt with another time.
So I had Imoni at the old school nurse, Ito-Sensei's place, during which I stared at her daughter Tomoko for long periods of time, then there was an Imoni Kai with the Yamagata Univeristy Frisbee guys by the river, at which I met Tomoko's boyfriend and I felt a little lighter and not one teeny sad at all but glad, strangely. There was one up in Sakata, there was one on Tuesday this week inside the Washington Hotel with the City Hall people, there was another my mate Shinsuke organised on a day to hot to walk in the sun, let alone eat steaming hot stew. We ate it standing ankle deep in the river water, until we finished and jumped in kit and kaboodle.
Then there was today's, at Osato Shogakko (Elementary School). I'd been looking forward to it for ages- the kids form groups, big kids little kids all jumbled up and they each have their own pot that they each manage. I went along last year, didn't take a camera, kicked myself. The Imoni itself isn't great, but that's not the point- the kids made it. I think the Imoni potatoes they grow too, so they see it through from plant to pig-out.
But today I had lessons at another Elementary School it looked like rain it rained they started early at Osato and by the time I arrived they'd all finished and were busy washing up their pots. I had my bowl, saved just for me, in the teacher's room. They kids were all outside- it was play-time, and I heard one teacher say it'd all worked out perfectly, the kids had just finished washing up.
Wednesday 24 October 2007
Big Cheeses
The advantage of not writing diddly-squit for ages and then bursting out with a torrent of crap is that you can kind of cast an eye back, a retrospective, and tie things all up nice neat, draw threads and pick out all the pairs and similar things.
A while back, then, there was a training day for all the English teachers across the city. Aside from me, there was only one other English assistant, Nick. When asked for comments and questions, he stood up and asked what mistakes ALTs (Assistant Language Teachers- us) make, in order that he can better himself, improve etc bless his cotton socks. You could almost hear the collective sucking of air through tight teeth. Nobody ventured an answer, and I watched in rapt fascination as the question was bounced from the Professor heading the meeting, to another teacher, and finally to me. So I, as an ALT, ended up answering on behalf of the teachers a question about common mistakes we make. Unberievable. You just cannot get anyone Japanese to speak their mind in front of others.
But that's not what I wanted to write about.
By virtue of being foreign and nothing else, following the Professor's speech, Nick and I got invited along to the Head-Teacher's office with the diminutive man to take tea and discuss matters English. The professor had put one hand in his pocket as he worked with the chalkboard during the speech and he had a fussy, boisterous manner about him when you said something he didn't quite understand, which isn't to say I disliked him. I just didn't particularly like him either.
His speech had included a model of concentric circles, inner and outer, representing various Englishes. The Inner was native, the outer, pigeon, bastard, fresh, like Nigerian pigeon English. And I felt it strangely appropriate, given that I was invited into a different kind of inner circle that day, to take tea and discuss.
That's all for that one.
Next was the Governor of Yamagata. I first met him at the reception desk of the Komian Club, the social venue for film makers and fans alike at the Yamagata Documentary Film Festival (come on, you must have heard of it..). He was volunteering too. I was wondering why everyone was taking his picture, and upon questioning I found out who he was. But every time I asked a question, he'd look at me real strange, as if to say, 'And who are you to ask me?' before literally turning his shoulder on me, having given as curt an answer as was feasible (he spoke immaculate American English).
Two nights ago I saw him again, at the after-party for the volunteers of the Komian Club. Nothing happened but for me to get a picture taken along with him. I didn't want my picture taken with him, but when Satomi Sensei took my camera, I had little say in the matter. With all the hauteur of a traveller returned he regaled a small audience at one table with anecdotes of his time abroad (he worked at the IMF once). He told exactly the kind of stories you'd expect the Governor of Yamagata to, and I noticed he even wore a badge on his jacket lapel of the little green monster character that usually sits above the slogan 'Oishii Yamagata', advertising home-grown produce and local specialities. A big fish, a puddle.
Then yesterday I met Oba Sensei, top dog, boss of bosses, the man I don't see often and don't want to annoy. I want to get a famous foreign t.v. 'Tarento' guy called Daniel Kahl to come and speak at Nanachu. I think the kids would get a kick out of it. It just so happens he was an ALT here back in the day when there weren't any others. He travelled all over the prefecture, only visiting schools that requested him. That seems so refreshing. He mastered the local dialect, Yamagata-ben. He made his mint. He pissed off to Tokyo.
When I told K-T the idea at school, he said go speak to Oba Sensei. Daniel Kahl still returns to Yamagata and he still sees Oba Sensei when he comes back. So. I duly did that. Butter up the big man and get Daniel Kahl along to school.
So I feel like I've been mixing amongst the elite of Yamagata lately.
A while back, then, there was a training day for all the English teachers across the city. Aside from me, there was only one other English assistant, Nick. When asked for comments and questions, he stood up and asked what mistakes ALTs (Assistant Language Teachers- us) make, in order that he can better himself, improve etc bless his cotton socks. You could almost hear the collective sucking of air through tight teeth. Nobody ventured an answer, and I watched in rapt fascination as the question was bounced from the Professor heading the meeting, to another teacher, and finally to me. So I, as an ALT, ended up answering on behalf of the teachers a question about common mistakes we make. Unberievable. You just cannot get anyone Japanese to speak their mind in front of others.
But that's not what I wanted to write about.
By virtue of being foreign and nothing else, following the Professor's speech, Nick and I got invited along to the Head-Teacher's office with the diminutive man to take tea and discuss matters English. The professor had put one hand in his pocket as he worked with the chalkboard during the speech and he had a fussy, boisterous manner about him when you said something he didn't quite understand, which isn't to say I disliked him. I just didn't particularly like him either.
His speech had included a model of concentric circles, inner and outer, representing various Englishes. The Inner was native, the outer, pigeon, bastard, fresh, like Nigerian pigeon English. And I felt it strangely appropriate, given that I was invited into a different kind of inner circle that day, to take tea and discuss.
That's all for that one.
Next was the Governor of Yamagata. I first met him at the reception desk of the Komian Club, the social venue for film makers and fans alike at the Yamagata Documentary Film Festival (come on, you must have heard of it..). He was volunteering too. I was wondering why everyone was taking his picture, and upon questioning I found out who he was. But every time I asked a question, he'd look at me real strange, as if to say, 'And who are you to ask me?' before literally turning his shoulder on me, having given as curt an answer as was feasible (he spoke immaculate American English).
Two nights ago I saw him again, at the after-party for the volunteers of the Komian Club. Nothing happened but for me to get a picture taken along with him. I didn't want my picture taken with him, but when Satomi Sensei took my camera, I had little say in the matter. With all the hauteur of a traveller returned he regaled a small audience at one table with anecdotes of his time abroad (he worked at the IMF once). He told exactly the kind of stories you'd expect the Governor of Yamagata to, and I noticed he even wore a badge on his jacket lapel of the little green monster character that usually sits above the slogan 'Oishii Yamagata', advertising home-grown produce and local specialities. A big fish, a puddle.
Then yesterday I met Oba Sensei, top dog, boss of bosses, the man I don't see often and don't want to annoy. I want to get a famous foreign t.v. 'Tarento' guy called Daniel Kahl to come and speak at Nanachu. I think the kids would get a kick out of it. It just so happens he was an ALT here back in the day when there weren't any others. He travelled all over the prefecture, only visiting schools that requested him. That seems so refreshing. He mastered the local dialect, Yamagata-ben. He made his mint. He pissed off to Tokyo.
When I told K-T the idea at school, he said go speak to Oba Sensei. Daniel Kahl still returns to Yamagata and he still sees Oba Sensei when he comes back. So. I duly did that. Butter up the big man and get Daniel Kahl along to school.
So I feel like I've been mixing amongst the elite of Yamagata lately.
Naoya
Last week we were doing a new topic in the textbook with the Ni Nen Sei kids.
I think----.
What do you think?
I think so too.
I don't think so.
There was a choice, you see- I think so. I don't think so.
Naoya is one of those kids who commands a fair amount of respect from the others. He gets on with stuff, most of the time, he's got an older brother who all the kids look up to who comes along to football practice a lot. He's got hair that's a little wild, thick and too long for Hitoshi Sensei who told him to get it cut the other day. I don't think he has yet. He's a good kid. Last week we did the question 'Do you think studying English is important?' and all the kids respond together, as one higgly-piggly voice. God forbid they voice an opinion alone, in a classroom, in front of everyone else...no no no, that's simply not how things are done here!
Except, this time, Naoya raised his voice, practically shouted actually, 'I don't think so' amongst the chorus of unidentifiable responses. The lesson continued, Naoya got on with it all.
I kind of felt a little sad at that. There's nothing like taking a language and using it against itself for impact. There's nothing life taking a language and using it.
So last weekend was the Kentaikai- a wee while back the football boys went and got to the final of the Shinjinsen tournament, came second but won a place in the Prefectural tournament. They got through the first round, but not the second. They looked a different team in that second game. Gone was all the verve from their game. Nervous on the ball, anxious without it, they went down 1-3, I think. It was an entirely forgettable performance, and it was without Naoya, the little general, the fulcrum of the team, won runs at the opposition and backs himself not only to beat men, but to then take it all the way and pelt the ball away to the back of the net. And he bloody does it too.
But not in the second game at that tournament last weekend. He sat that one out, the team spirit not so much dropped as vanished, we went out to Kaminoyama Minami Chugakko: coincidentally the school the kids' old football coach and Industrial Arts teacher, Shoji Sensei, got sent to at the re-shuffle in April.
Naoya got floored from behind in the first game when they were already winning 3-0 or so. It was a heinous challenge, right in front of all of the supporters. Yellow card, Naoya dropped his head, and got flattened again seconds later. No card or free kick that time, and he was pulled off soon after. He showed me the graze on his calf after the match.
No, it's not for me to second guess just how bad his injury was, whether it was painful enough to keep the little general out of the second game...but I got to ask, could he have played in that second game?
I think so.
I think----.
What do you think?
I think so too.
I don't think so.
There was a choice, you see- I think so. I don't think so.
Naoya is one of those kids who commands a fair amount of respect from the others. He gets on with stuff, most of the time, he's got an older brother who all the kids look up to who comes along to football practice a lot. He's got hair that's a little wild, thick and too long for Hitoshi Sensei who told him to get it cut the other day. I don't think he has yet. He's a good kid. Last week we did the question 'Do you think studying English is important?' and all the kids respond together, as one higgly-piggly voice. God forbid they voice an opinion alone, in a classroom, in front of everyone else...no no no, that's simply not how things are done here!
Except, this time, Naoya raised his voice, practically shouted actually, 'I don't think so' amongst the chorus of unidentifiable responses. The lesson continued, Naoya got on with it all.
I kind of felt a little sad at that. There's nothing like taking a language and using it against itself for impact. There's nothing life taking a language and using it.
So last weekend was the Kentaikai- a wee while back the football boys went and got to the final of the Shinjinsen tournament, came second but won a place in the Prefectural tournament. They got through the first round, but not the second. They looked a different team in that second game. Gone was all the verve from their game. Nervous on the ball, anxious without it, they went down 1-3, I think. It was an entirely forgettable performance, and it was without Naoya, the little general, the fulcrum of the team, won runs at the opposition and backs himself not only to beat men, but to then take it all the way and pelt the ball away to the back of the net. And he bloody does it too.
But not in the second game at that tournament last weekend. He sat that one out, the team spirit not so much dropped as vanished, we went out to Kaminoyama Minami Chugakko: coincidentally the school the kids' old football coach and Industrial Arts teacher, Shoji Sensei, got sent to at the re-shuffle in April.
Naoya got floored from behind in the first game when they were already winning 3-0 or so. It was a heinous challenge, right in front of all of the supporters. Yellow card, Naoya dropped his head, and got flattened again seconds later. No card or free kick that time, and he was pulled off soon after. He showed me the graze on his calf after the match.
No, it's not for me to second guess just how bad his injury was, whether it was painful enough to keep the little general out of the second game...but I got to ask, could he have played in that second game?
I think so.
Autumn
is certainly my favourite season, surely.
I spend a fair amount of time at school staring out of the windows. What is it they say? Things change and stay the same. At school I stared out onto the quad and watched the swallows swoop up into their nests in between the mortar and the roof tops. At Uni in Amsterdam I stared out onto a canal and 7 geese that came to rest on the opposite bank, through thick thin snow and sun, until one day when there were only 6. Back in Edinburgh, studying, I'd scrutinise the wall instead, because the window was too small and facing the wrong way (up-ish) and besides it was time to buckle down and work by then. I had to, after all those years of staring out of windows.
But that's behind now, and I look out of new windows, facing Mt Zao to the south and the smooth lump and craggier description of, respectively, Hayama-san and Gas-san to the south. The teachers room doesn't face that way though, so I snatch glances when I can. This morning was the first time since last winter that the haze burned off and both Hayama and Gassan were sharp to the eye as a knife to the heart. There's still snow on Gassan, I guess from last winter (you can ski in summer there).
Elsewhere there's all kinds of flowers out. Cosmos, the purple pink petals that fade and fray at the edges as they die. Kinmokusei, tiny little beads of yellow that nestle in between otherwise unobtrusive and ordinary green leaves. The smell is otherwise, once you get close enough. Then there's some other ones I don't know the names of; then there's the persimmons. Orange and big as a kid's fist, growing brighter even as the tree grows blacker and hardens against the cold, as the leaves curl and fall until the whole thing resembles an absurd and living chandelier, outside.
Then the leaves. I've never seen prettier reds oranges yellows and all between.
I spend a fair amount of time at school staring out of the windows. What is it they say? Things change and stay the same. At school I stared out onto the quad and watched the swallows swoop up into their nests in between the mortar and the roof tops. At Uni in Amsterdam I stared out onto a canal and 7 geese that came to rest on the opposite bank, through thick thin snow and sun, until one day when there were only 6. Back in Edinburgh, studying, I'd scrutinise the wall instead, because the window was too small and facing the wrong way (up-ish) and besides it was time to buckle down and work by then. I had to, after all those years of staring out of windows.
But that's behind now, and I look out of new windows, facing Mt Zao to the south and the smooth lump and craggier description of, respectively, Hayama-san and Gas-san to the south. The teachers room doesn't face that way though, so I snatch glances when I can. This morning was the first time since last winter that the haze burned off and both Hayama and Gassan were sharp to the eye as a knife to the heart. There's still snow on Gassan, I guess from last winter (you can ski in summer there).
Elsewhere there's all kinds of flowers out. Cosmos, the purple pink petals that fade and fray at the edges as they die. Kinmokusei, tiny little beads of yellow that nestle in between otherwise unobtrusive and ordinary green leaves. The smell is otherwise, once you get close enough. Then there's some other ones I don't know the names of; then there's the persimmons. Orange and big as a kid's fist, growing brighter even as the tree grows blacker and hardens against the cold, as the leaves curl and fall until the whole thing resembles an absurd and living chandelier, outside.
Then the leaves. I've never seen prettier reds oranges yellows and all between.
Monday 22 October 2007
postsecret.com
If you haven't ever been to the titular website, go now. Leave my blog! Better more stimulating things await you there.
I remember finding out about it in a Sunday paper (oh! to have a Sunday paper, I'd read all of it, even the rubbish motoring section!) sometime in final year at Uni, and flatmates and I shocked moved burst out laughing at some of the secrets there. That flat, in final year of Uni, was a happy place. 6 of us who'd lived near, above-below, close to one another for 3 years but never actually all-together-who-ate-all-the-beef-leftovers-together until 13 Gilmore Place.
I then proceeded to do other things, degree, move country, speak lots of English in classrooms, and completely forgot about the website, until today. It's on the blogger bulletin roll. And here's the best bit- in the intervening time, a book of some of the secrets has been published. Wait, that's not the best bit, the best bit is that people have started writing their secrets out and leaving them in copies of the book in book shops, instead of/as well as continuing to send them in to the website. Isn't that just fucking beautiful?
Now go go, go.
I remember finding out about it in a Sunday paper (oh! to have a Sunday paper, I'd read all of it, even the rubbish motoring section!) sometime in final year at Uni, and flatmates and I shocked moved burst out laughing at some of the secrets there. That flat, in final year of Uni, was a happy place. 6 of us who'd lived near, above-below, close to one another for 3 years but never actually all-together-who-ate-all-the-beef-leftovers-together until 13 Gilmore Place.
I then proceeded to do other things, degree, move country, speak lots of English in classrooms, and completely forgot about the website, until today. It's on the blogger bulletin roll. And here's the best bit- in the intervening time, a book of some of the secrets has been published. Wait, that's not the best bit, the best bit is that people have started writing their secrets out and leaving them in copies of the book in book shops, instead of/as well as continuing to send them in to the website. Isn't that just fucking beautiful?
Now go go, go.
Tuesday 16 October 2007
Old News- Names
A while back I gave the entire Ichi Nen Sei English nicknames. At first I wanted to give them a variety of names drawn from different groups- theme it, if you will. 1-1 was going to be popular 50's England names, 1-2 My Heros' Names, 1-3 Sports stars.... but I soon realised that was a bad idea.
At 13 I was re-christened Michel by Madame Maynard (was it?), much to the hilarity of the rest of the class, who didn't have a girl's French name. And, oh, how it still stings to this day! What if the little tykes, god forbid, actually make it outside of the prefecture, out of the country even, nay dare speak it, will it, could such a thing ever happen? What if they did, and took the name I gave them, a Cuthbert or a Rio, (equally ridiculous) and used it as an alter-ego, a substitute name like Prakit Sanguanpiyapand from Thailand did at my secondary school, Prakit, known as Jim to everybody in his year?
So I played it simple, played it straight. Akiba Yuusuke became Ben (Takuya called him BIG! Ben after I put pictures up of his illustrious namesake; Ben chased him round the room). Unno Riho became Leanne. I ran in to difficulties with Oyama Momoka and Oyama Momoko, respectively solved Olivia and Molly. Occasionally I had to fit two of the little smurfs with the same name, made unique only through spelling: Ota Kenichi is Kenny...Togashi Kensuke is Kenni. But they both really are Kennys, so I had to do it.
1 hundred and some 17 names later, nameplates and all in different colours according to the houses of Hogwarts (that flew over their heads) and the weirdest thing is I found it easier to remember two names than I did one. Jimbo Ryo-kun really does look like a Ryan, and once Ryan has hit me, Ryo isn't so far away. And as for little Tucker... well, who wouldn't see the resemblance with Kusakai Tomohiko??
At 13 I was re-christened Michel by Madame Maynard (was it?), much to the hilarity of the rest of the class, who didn't have a girl's French name. And, oh, how it still stings to this day! What if the little tykes, god forbid, actually make it outside of the prefecture, out of the country even, nay dare speak it, will it, could such a thing ever happen? What if they did, and took the name I gave them, a Cuthbert or a Rio, (equally ridiculous) and used it as an alter-ego, a substitute name like Prakit Sanguanpiyapand from Thailand did at my secondary school, Prakit, known as Jim to everybody in his year?
So I played it simple, played it straight. Akiba Yuusuke became Ben (Takuya called him BIG! Ben after I put pictures up of his illustrious namesake; Ben chased him round the room). Unno Riho became Leanne. I ran in to difficulties with Oyama Momoka and Oyama Momoko, respectively solved Olivia and Molly. Occasionally I had to fit two of the little smurfs with the same name, made unique only through spelling: Ota Kenichi is Kenny...Togashi Kensuke is Kenni. But they both really are Kennys, so I had to do it.
1 hundred and some 17 names later, nameplates and all in different colours according to the houses of Hogwarts (that flew over their heads) and the weirdest thing is I found it easier to remember two names than I did one. Jimbo Ryo-kun really does look like a Ryan, and once Ryan has hit me, Ryo isn't so far away. And as for little Tucker... well, who wouldn't see the resemblance with Kusakai Tomohiko??
Saturday 13 October 2007
Hisashiburi here!
I've been slack lately.
No writing here. No writing anywhere.
So apologies to the regular readers!
I'm going to take an exam in December, you see, and I'm studying hard for that instead of writing at work/in free time. It's a little strange- at first I had to pace myself when it came to studying. I got sick of it some days, literally, and not just headaches sore back or weary eyes but actual nausea, a real unsettled feeling. It might have been something else, of course.
But lately, i can't get enough of it. I study at the weekends, in the evenings, when I'm hungover, three persistent periods when I would never usually have studied before.
Full steam ahead. We'll get this bloog business back up and running to.
No writing here. No writing anywhere.
So apologies to the regular readers!
I'm going to take an exam in December, you see, and I'm studying hard for that instead of writing at work/in free time. It's a little strange- at first I had to pace myself when it came to studying. I got sick of it some days, literally, and not just headaches sore back or weary eyes but actual nausea, a real unsettled feeling. It might have been something else, of course.
But lately, i can't get enough of it. I study at the weekends, in the evenings, when I'm hungover, three persistent periods when I would never usually have studied before.
Full steam ahead. We'll get this bloog business back up and running to.
Monday 1 October 2007
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)