Undecisions

I think at times of becoming a nun. The life style appeals to me, at leas the life I things they have. It consists mainly of silence, contemplation, reading, studying of texts, helping out in the community, taking in visitors and taking care of them, teaching and living with only women. (It is the last part that appeals to me the most.)
At a moment of more indecision than usual, in the middle of a spiritual period I had a while back, I even looked up what kind of orders I could join, and was disappointed and discouraged. It would take long time--to not speak of the fact that most orders are catholic... Which does not appeal to me. Where is the vaguely protestant order which you can join and participate in after a year? Or even better, the agnostic order? I do like the idea of serving some kind of higher purpose, even if I don't believe in that Abrahamic god.

This is ridiculous and unrealistic, naturally. But nevertheless, I want to be in place of quiet and solidarity and where I am less and just part of a whole. Oh the quiet, and the space, and the slow passing of time.

2015 Reading Challenge

In order to keep track of my reading, and to cross things off a list, I will participate in the reading challenge What's in a Name. I did it a couple of years ago in another blog, but want to pick it up again. Here is the challenge:

The challenge runs from January to December. During this time you choose a book to read from each of the following categories (examples of books you could choose are in brackets):

A word including ‘ing’ in it (The Time Of Singing, Dancing To The Flute, Lex Trent Fighting With Fire) My examples are verbs but you can of course use other words.
A colour (The Red Queen, White Truffles In Winter, On Gold Mountain)
A familial relation (Daughter Of Smoke And Bone, Dombey And Son, My Cousin Rachel) By all means include in-laws, step, and halves.
A body of water (The River Of No Return, Black Lake, Beside The Sea)
A city (Barcelona Shadows, Shanghai Girls, Under The Tripoli Sky)
An animal (Black Swan Rising, The Leopard Unleashed, The Horse And His Boy)

Extra information
Books can be any format (print, audio, ebook).
It’s preferred that the books don’t overlap with other challenges, but not a requirement at all.
Books cannot overlap categories.
Creativity for matching the categories is not only allowed, it’s encouraged!
You don’t have to make your list of books beforehand, you can choose them as you go.
You don’t have to read your chosen books in any particular order.

I think I will try to post a review of the books that end up to meet the challenge--a way to motivate me in my writing as well!

2014 review

I wanted to write something about the year (I have writing itching in my fingers), so I have taken a list from a favourite blog of mine and edited/translated it.

Describe the year with three words.
Leeds, lit-studies and depression.

How did the studies (and job) go this year?
My studies were great. Both terms were fantastic, educating, uplifting, inspiring and absolutely wonderful. At the same time it has been incredibly difficult (at one point I even considered dropping out). The spring was mostly wonderful and my grades were fine--I got the UK grade 2:1, which is something like C/B I think. The autumn has been more anxiety-filled and exhausting, but I have gotten great grades, so far all A's on essays, and A in the only course I have finished so far.
The job has gone on. It has been both meditative and boring. Lately, mostly boring. I am in charge of social media which is at times fun but mostly anxiety-inducing and horrifying. I am thinking of quitting it.

The people in my life this year.
I have attempted to withdraw, which I have succeeded with I would say. I don't have to see people as much what with living alone. But friendships are more or less the same, although I am less close with one of my best friend. Gets along better with certain people at work. Met lovely people at Oxfam in Leeds. Did not really befriend anyone this year, except possibly someone at work.
Social life has, overall, been very difficult this year.

The best trip this year.
Naturally Leeds, but if I had to specify more (what with being there for six months...), it woul be the short trip to Haworth I did when I wandered on the moors, the longer trip to Cardiff, Bristol and Bath and maybe my first few days in London before I went to Leeds--with the flavour of freedom in my mouth.

Best memories or moments of the year.
The evening I went to the poetry reading at uni, in Leeds, where I had wine and fell in love with poetry and talked to and saw people I liked.
When I got use to being in Leeds and realised my freedom of being there. Those freeing walks and bus rides and coming home to my flat.
The Head and the Heart concert in Manchester.
Any one of the good seminars/meetings I have had with my two favourite teachers this year.
Travelling alone. Some of the other concerts. Coming home to my flat, even this one in Stockholm.

Worst memories or moments of the year.
I would rather not think of them, but some of them are: the first few days in Leeds, when I was leaving Leeds, the first week home in Sweden, this entire autumn. When I was too drunk at two points, but my mainly last New Year's Eve. Some of the concerts I went to this year, when the mass of people have me panic.

What was the best thing you bought?
Maybe my black skirt on sale in Leeds, or books such as Glass, Irony and God, The World's Wife, Division Street, and The Waves. Can't think of anything else in particular. I bought a lot of skirts and dressed in England that I love.

What was the best gift you received?
Virginia Woolf's and Sylvia Plath's diaries. An analogue camera I got from Lina. Gift certificate to get a tattoo (which I haven't used yet). *The gift of knowledge.*

What was the biggest musical discovery?
BY FAR Kent. They made my months in Leeds. God I adore them, especially the latter albums. They are my favourite Swedish musicians.
Here is a playlist with the music I listened to this year.

What was the biggest literary discovery?
TOO MANY. Whole genres! The English 18th century literature, Boswell, Maria Edgeworth, Ann Carson, Helen Mort, and the re-discovery of Virginiaa Woolf.

What did I watch?
Few movies--the only one I remember liking is The Hours. But on TV: Orange is the New Black, Downton Abbey, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Parks & recreation, Broad City, Historieäterna, Hannibal, Buffy (still stuck on the sixth season), Friday Night Dinner, Girls, Game of Thrones, Orphan Black, Pushing Daisies, and Veep.

This I should have done more of.
Always reading. Maybe talked to someone. Said yes. I did dare to do a lot, but I could have dared more. Believed in myself. Oh, and writing, definitely more writing. And more taking photos and blogging. Ugh. I will try to be better this year...

This I should have done less of.
Drinking wine... Doubted and hated and been ashamed of myself so much. I have been wrong to doubt myself so much this year. I should have done less of the things I did not want to do.

Biggest insight of 2014.
That I am unwell, maybe. That I realised I am actually depressed and anxious--that this is what depression and anxiety is.
And the insight, that Leeds is where I want to live, and English literature is what I want to work with, study and think about.

This I bring with me into 2015.
Very little. 2014 has not been good at all--and I don't believe 2015 will be any better. I will remember that I like running and that I can get good grades in literature courses. But a whole lot of memories from my home on this planet.

The Best Books of 14

These are my top ten books I read in the last year (including poetry collections and graphic novels etc), in the order of reading (starting with the latest read).

The Waves, Virginia Woolf
The very best discovery by Woolf this semester--the long prose poetry books, with so many beutiful quotes, and a rhythm like a dream. I loved Rhoda and Bernard.

(Mrs Dalloway, Virginia Woolf)
I re-read Mrs Dalloway this autumn and this time I adored it. It was very much like reading it for the first time, again. Furthermore, I wrote my BA essay on this book and got to spend a lot of time with it. Clarissa, always.

Kunskapens frukt, Liv Strömquist
Fantastic, funny, depressing, illuminating, as always. Everyone should read it.

We are All Completely Beside Ourselves, Karen Joy Fowler
Gorgeous book that was mostly sad and sometimes funny. It was incredible to read without knowing what it was about--that surprise, when it was revealed. Staggering ideas and new thoughts on anthropomorphism's good and bad sides. I want to give this book to all my friends and family.

Villette, Charlotte Brontë
I thought it was extraordinary, especially how it was about solitude and loneliness and pride. Perhpas better than Jane Eyre.

"The Glass Essay," Glass, Irony and God, Anne Carson
I have yet to write a post on this one! It was partly the reason I started this blog--I wanted to write about "The Glass Essay." And I will. But for now, I can say it is my best essay ever, and my favourite longer poem. And I fell in love with Emily Brontë because of it.

Girl Reading, Katie Ward
Lovely book, on this list mainly because of one story. Which I want to re-read now.

The Song of Achilles, Madeline Miller
It was the last book I finished in Leeds, I think. I read it on my Kindle and was floored. I remember finishing it sitting in Caffé Nero in Chapel Allerton (god I miss it) and trying to hide my tears. Beautiful and sad and perhaps the greatest OTP of this year.

Division Street, Helen Mort
Wonderful poetry collection, with sharp lines and grey skies. Her wonderful voice echoing in my head. Words that feel near.

Belinda, Maria Edgeworth
This was my favourite book I read in my spring term. What I loved was the female friendships, the complex utterings of feminism, and Belinda being ridiculous and wonderful. And I loved that I discussed it afterward in my favourite room in Univerity of Leeds, with my favourite teacher.

Code Name Verity, Elizabeth Wein
This was a mid-term reading break, of sorts. It went quickly, because it was impossible to stop. Gorgeous writing, awful story, an admiration of language, and more than anything else, the love between Maddy and Julie. Such a fantastic love story between them. I think it is a book anyone of any age, gender or interest can read.



It was a good reading year. This autumn, especially, I have read such good books. Most by Woolf, of course, but a few other good ones.


I have read or re-read 61 books this year, including poetry collections, non-fiction and short story collections.

53 books were written by women, 6 by men, and 2 were novels or collections with writing by both men and women.

Clearly, I have read almost entirely books by women this year. It started out unconsciously, but then I more or less decided to keep doing it--excepting school reading, naturally. I did read mainly women authors in school as well. I have loved it and I plan on keeping it up. Not rigorously, but with that vague aim.

I have read a few books in Swedish, more than usual, I think: 11. I am glad of that. I want to keep adding Swedish books to my reading. Similarly with poetry. I have read 7 poetry collection, and many more online.


This has been a great reading year, supported by a fantastic year in school in terms of the modules and courses I have taken. I have learned so much. I need words, books, writing to breathe.

A Collection of Quotes That I Will at Some Point Post on My Tumblr or, Why Is This so Unbearable?

“Listen to me. I’m shy. I’m not stupid. I can’t meet people’s eyes. I don’t know if you understand what that’s like. There’s a whole world going on around me, I’m aware of that. It’s not because I don’t want to look at you, Lucinda. It’s that I don’t want to be seen. I’m afraid of what you’ll see inside me.”
— Jonathan Lethem


“With special regard to unreality, I shrug in silence. I am not scared. I love this fully conscious imprisonment in unreality; it somehow makes me romanticize with something sensuously genuine. Oh it’s another self-trap; you know best. Yet there is something very consoling, very personal in it. I am constructing my reality with unreal, otherworldly materials. It is almost poetic; this outstanding self-manipulation. (I am rather scared to death.)”
— Sylvia Plath, Letters Home: Correspondence 1950-1963


“My dear, you are in danger of being burned by your own flame.”
— Jeanette Winterson, Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit


“Don’t try to picture everything bad that could possibly happen. Stick with the situation at hand and ask, “Why is this so unbearable? Why can’t I endure it?” You’ll be embarrassed to answer. Then remind yourself that past and future have no power over you. Only the present.”
— Marcus Aurelis, The Meditations


“I am aware of myself. And, of course, the only things that are aware of themselves and conscious of their individuality are irritated eyes, cut fingers, sore teeth. A healthy eye, finger, tooth might as well not even be there. Isn’t it clear that individual consciousness is just sickness?”
— Yevgeny Zamyatin, We

The Waves

I read The Waves for class a few weeks ago.

It is the fourth novel by Woolf I have read this semester. In addition, I have re-read "A Room of One's Own" and read two short stories. We have two texts left to read. It seems actually ridiculous that I, at the start of the semester, was reluctant to start with Woolf and give up 18th and 19th century literature, and that I did not then know Woolf as I do now. Well, that I did not know her is not too strange. I had not then spent around three months reading nothing but texts by Woolf or texts about Woolf. But to think, at that time, I did not realise how extraordinary her writing is. I did not even particularly like Mrs Dalloway then.

So ridiculous.


But I read The Waves and it filled me with awe from the first page. I was amazed, genuinely, to think of a novel written in that way. I had no idea before I started so it was a surprise. Then I had to read it pretty quickly because I had started late and it is quite long. My amazement abated, until I sat down in the class room for the seminar.

Somewhere in the space of three hours I realised that this book was maybe my favoruite of Woolf. Most people in class did not like it, so naturally I had to defend it. But what I loved the most was the things I couldn't voice, which was a theme during the seminar--everything I could and did not say--and I want to, need to, write it down. I wish I could have said it in class and defended the book properly.

It is a long prose poem, I guess. Or it is a novel written in very poetic prose. It is a conversation between six persons, but they never talk with each other, they just talk at each other, or at the reader. It is a novel consisting of six different voices--thoughts--running, repeating, complaining, groping, trying to explain, failing to explain, and reaching. It works, definitely, to think of as a prose poem. The sort of poem where different people speak but where the refrains and the theme and the words hold it together. It works to think of as a novel, too, albeit one without a particular plot (but To The Lighthouse does not really have a plot either, or Jacob's Room for that matter). It could also be thought of as a play, where six characters have monologues, or soliloquies, in Woolf's own word. Or, you can think of it as a radio broadcast where voices are heard and they speak without knowing if anyone listen so you have to listen.

It has fantastic language. So my favourite way of thinking about The Waves is as a long prose poem, because of the refrains and the repetitions. Oh, I loved the repetitions. I love how they defined the characters and made them recognisable. Bernard and his phrases. Neville and his perfection and classic studies. Jinny and her flames and fire and red and orange. Susan and her body working, doing stuff, and the nature and green. Louis and his self-consciousness (but the most difficult, I think, to define). And my favourite, Rhoda, immaterial, unhappy, unable to do what everyone else did, faceless and connected to water. (The women, in particular, stood out for me in terms of colours and elements: Jinny and fire and warm colours, Susan and earth and green and Rhoda and water and insubstantial grey-blue colours.)

In order not to make this too long, I will cut it short here. And only say that I loved loved loved Rhoda and Bernard. Rhoda's description of the world is fairly similar to mine (I re-read parts of her speech in a waiting room and had to put the book away because I was so nauseous and her words made me almost agitated).

The best things is the quotes. So many beautiful quotes. The second best thing is how strange it is. I can hardly believe the same writer wrote "A Room," or Orlando, or Jacob's Room. Anyway, here are some of the best quotes (put together in a way they were not put together in the book):

There was a star riding through clouds one night, and I said to the star, "Consume me."
I catch your eye. I, who had been thinking myself so vast, a temple, a church, a whole universe, confined and capable of being everywhere on the verge of things and here too, am now nothing but what you see.
I — so imperfect, so weak, so unspeakably lonely.
... the weight of the earth is pressed to my ribs.

And the poem, I think, is only your voice speaking.

It seems as if I can get to the centre of something if only I read everything Woolf wrote. Somehow, with all her exact descriptions and innovative narratives and clear-sightedness, I can understand why it is so beautiful and also so ugly, this, this, life.

November

I am having a bad time.

I try writing and I end up deleting it all.

I imagine myself saying it out loud and my skin crawls.

There is something with the dark that makes it impossible. I cannot get sunlight, not even moments of sunlight, not even moments of light.

I got home at four in the afternoon and made dinner. Got ready for the night. And there are hours left of the day.

I sleep too much.


I tried, sitting down at dinner, to follow along with my heart when it reached out and forward for something. When it searches for another time, to a future place, to something I will do or could do.

But my heart was flailing and I realised that it is not going to get better.

A doctor told me this week I was depressed, so I am looking for symptoms (is this depression?)

I suppose being unable to look forward to something is a sign of depression.

But it is also true. What could get better? What, in a single day, could be better than this? It is all up to my mood and my mood is such a slippery thing.

It does not matter if I change the house. If I live somewhere where I move differently. If I eat something else or see other people. It is still. Just. This.

Is this depression?

Or is it just facts? That, to an extent, it all comes down to my mood. (Is the world only my perception of it?)

There are hours left of the day, that I could use writing, but I just want to go to sleep. I imagine that I might need sleep. Sleep is always good, isn't it? I have to get up early tomorrow.

And tomorrow night will eat more of the day and then it won't be anything left and can't the night just eat me, too?

Is this depression? Being unable to organise the day to use the hours I am awake to write essays and not transform them into night hours (November helps me in this).

I am clearly doing something wrong. Something I ate made me this. Something I did not do. A book I read at the wrong time. A class missed, where everyone learned how to be human beings.

I don't believe I am depressed because that seems an awfully easy way to solve the meaninglessness of life.

Is that depression?

I don't have to tell anyone, honestly, and I can write it only to myself. And imagine that I tell you.

Nevertheless, it is not the easiest time. This November (and October and September and August). And I don't believe it can be any easier.