Like I said, I had a lot planned for Thursday. Didn’t mean for everything to get pushed up against the end like this, but after turning in my two essays to the undergraduate office that morning, I didn’t care, I was free. Normally I try not to put all my self-worth into a single task, but when that single task is part of what’s keeping me in this country, and I’d have to pay supposedly £100 for a late submission, things are a bit different.
I had a one-hour make-up lecture from the week cancelled due to snow, and then three more hours of regular lectures. All four were international relations. I’ve really liked both lecturers we’ve had for this module, and I recommend it to anyone who has the opportunity to study it anywhere. That’s my focus within Peace Studies at the moment, though I get the chance to change it before going in to second year. The extent of the goodness of next semester’s Conflict Resolution will largely determine whether I switch or not. However, I can’t deny that I struggled to keep my head up in it today. I soon slipped into the cycle of nod off, pry eyes open, listen, nod off…tried to break it with gum, but English stuff was just too weak. Used another precious Japanese piece, and that kept me up for a while.
Ultimately, though, the best antidote was walking in the brisk Bradford winter air, as we did when we went shopping between the first two hours and the second two. I was intent to make the most of my first day of weight-off-my-shoulders and managed to assemble the final ingredients for attempting my mum’s eggnog recipe, which I tried my hand at after finishing lectures at 5.
Oh, before I go on, I had a Peace Society meeting between morning and afternoon lectures as well, and though I’m sorry to say our last meeting of this year was poorly attended and uninspired, through no fault of the members present, I did volunteer to make a “Peace Times” Peace Society Newspaper website. I’m thinking I’ll use WordPress, but do you guys have any ideas for this? I know most of you aren’t Peace Studies, but, you know, what would you wanna see in an online newspaper? I’m hoping to get a start on that this break.
Right. With the last lectures of my first semester finished, and finished with applause, which only our international relations lecturers received this year, I headed back to my flat for some Christmas-itising of my beverage choice.
For those of you who’ve never had eggnog, it’s fantastic, but I wouldn’t have been too quick to offer my concoction as your first sampling. I ran into a few problems, though not what I had originally worried about – getting the correct ingredients. I think it’s safe to say evaporated milk and dried milk are the same thing. But I didn’t have enough of certain ingredients! My vanilla flavouring, which is apparently one of the most expensive liquids in the world, was only 38 ml when I needed 45, and the dried milk was lacking about another cup. Furthermore, I had no electric mixer, so while I could do a decent number on the eggs, beating the milk powder into the water proved challenging. I never did get all the lumps out, and finished with a thick, lumpy, overwhelmingly richly sweet nog of egg.
Yes, the flavour was actually not bad. I devoured it over the weekend, sprinkling my proudly acquired ground nutmeg on it each time, and though I was sick of it by the end (tried to drink it too fast as our date for bussing to London approached) it was ever so worth it. With an electric mixer and proper proportions, I feel I could do a well good job.
After the eggnog I was hungry for supper so I succeeded in making what I’d call my best spaghetti yet. Sure, it was only store-bought bolognese sauce, but I added minced meat (not to be confused with mincemeat, though they are at times used interchangeably), chopped up hot dog wieners (not worthy of the same title ascribed to the varieties of sausage my German friends have allowed me to sample), and onions (nothing worth parenthetically asiding here except ow, my eyes), and it was good. Made enough for two meals, though the second half proved problematic to finish before leaving. I had more food at the end than I’d realised.
Before I knew it it was time to go meet the Christian Union for…ice skating! After several weeks of watching the uni hockey team battle it out on ice, I was eager to get back out there and see if I hadn’t completely lost any ability to stay upright. As it turned out, I had not, and it was immensely fun. Will certainly be going several more times next semester. I guess this winter will be one of ice skating rather than snowboarding, but that’s alright. Ice skating is one of those things that, while perhaps considered less-that-manly by some (there are those gender roles again), I’ve always wanted to be good at. One of the many things, I should say.
It cleared out shortly before the hockey team practice at 11:00 (I don’t envy their practice and game hours) so we basically had the place to ourselves to revel in our antics. The diving stomach-slide, however, did not pan out. That and the matching scratches and blisters from budget skates were the only negatives of that excursion.
Back to the campus! Some of the Union went…somewhere…but I returned to the university for the Peace Studies end-of-semester party (this is what I meant by busy day, two parties in one night, yeehaw, party animal and all that) By this time I’d all but forgotten about the previous night, or lack of it, and aimed to thoroughly enjoy myself. Unfortunately it was mostly master’s students (either they’re much more into socialising with fellow peace studiers or they recover from deadlines much more quickly) but we enjoyed the company and the candy- er, sweets, but that kills my alliteration. Saw some classmates drunk that are usually much more dignified, and some that aren’t, had the distinct pleasure of having grown up in Japan and witnessing two non-Asians discussing anime with more interest and knowledge than I could ever muster, and enjoyed the company of a high-class native Bradfordian. At least he exudes that aura (not to be confused with aurora, not that you ever would). Really just wanted to use the word ‘exude’. Say it.
But I can’t say anything about drunks, seeing as
- seventeen hours of sustained wakefulness leads to a decrease in performance equivalent to a blood alcohol-level of 0.05%. I was past double this by that point, which, according to Wikipedia, is a level consistent with blunted feelings, disinhibition, extroversion; loss of reasoning, depth perception, peripheral vision, and glare recovery. Me? Surely not!
- After five nights of partial sleep deprivation, three drinks will have the same effect on your body as six would when you’ve slept enough.
There’s some more sleep facts for ya. Clearly lack of sleep and alcohol are not a safe mix. Funny that it’s such a common mix.
Just when I thought the night was winding down, it wasn’t. Ended up having the most enthralling conversation of the semester, not a moment too soon. Talked for hours, and it all started with personality types. And so I’ll end my recount of this day with a brief discussion of labels.
I claim to hate labels. I’ve said that several times on this site. And yet I was challenged on this point today, because I use them on others and I use them on myself. My defence was that while labels describe what a person is, they can never fully grasp who a person is. And that’s true. But I’m guilty of stopping at that shallow label level, and worse, I’m guilty at stopping with the labels of my own judgements, not even the ones they stick on themselves. I don’t need to meet people to think I know all that I need to know about them. I don’t need to meet people to not like them.
I’m terribly judgemental but that doesn’t have to keep being me. I hope to one day outrun this, but know inside that it’ll take much more than running. While I believe I have grown more accepting of people and lifestyles (emphasis on style, not life), I’ve also grown more arrogant in presuming my first impressions of people be accurate and unchangeable, by them or by me. That’s flat out wrong. I guess I want you guys to know that I know it’s wrong, even though it’s how I am, right now.
So I’m guilty of using labels on others, and I’m also guilty of using them on myself. INTJ…MK…TCK…even the fact that they’re all acronyms reveals something. I use labels to distance myself from people, to say both overtly and implicitly that I’m different from you and you won’t be able to bridge that gap because you don’t even know what I am, unless I condescend to walk with mortals. And it’s justification in numbers: I’m different (read: better) and it’s not just me that thinks so, we’ve got a proper group thing going on that you’ll never be a part of.
While the whole what-I-am-not-who-I-am definition of labels still stands, I’m realising that I’m not as free from this as I thought. Labels are distance, and I use them just as much as the next guy, if not more, for my labels are cryptic and exclusive.
This was just a fraction of the mullings that conversation engendered, the conversation that marked forty-two hours of wakefulness. Sheesh. Considering bragging rights to be a poor reason to do anything – well, almost anything; things like roller coasters could be made a case for – I promptly went to bed at half past four.
Slept well into the double digits the following morning, it was glorious, though I usually hate doing that. Such a waste of daylight. Well worth it. Everything.
Inspiration's Waiting Room 