May Day. (Also known as 13 days before I have to start real life.)

I should be writing a dissertation right now. In fact, I should actually be writing three dissertations right now. Needless to say, I’m taking a break. Who knew that it was actually possible to do work over a fortnight before it is due in? Crazy. I used to be able to write an entire essay (or two) the night before hand-in, now I’m getting excited about the fact that I’ve managed to write 1,000 words in a day. What a nightmare.

Naturally, now that it’s got to that point in my degree where I should be “knuckling down to hard work” I actually just want to do everything else. I’m procrastinating by thinking about the future – however scary (though exciting) that may be – and have started watching television (the BBC) religiously for the first time in three years. Admittedly, it’s The Voice, which, until this week, has been a brilliant concept. Judging people on their ability to actually sing rather than how they look is something that I feel massively strong about. However, introducing the whole now-the-audience-get-to-vote-to-save-people thing is horrible. There’s no other way to describe it. And on top of that, they have a terrible presenter. Anyone who can say, on live television, to the first person to be voted out “I don’t know what to say to you…” should really consider a different profession. Don’t get me wrong, Holly Willoughby is probably a lovely person, but that was shamefully tactless. Despite that, I’m hooked. Talented musicians always get a smile from me. I can’t help it. Music junkie right here.

In other news I’m officially losing my mind. Apparently sitting surrounded by books (you haven’t read) and trying to create a coherent academic argument on their narrator’s unreliability/presentation of reflection in children’s literature/fetishizing of the suffering human body is enough to drive you to destroy your sanity. I rock a lot more than I usually do. I’m frequently shouting at inanimate objects for their refusal to co-operate. I’m almost at the overdose point in my daily caffeine intake. I’m giggling. I don’t giggle. Ever. It is beyond bizarre. Having said that, it’s also excitingly inspiring. Just not in the dissertation-writing sense. It is however making me want to create crazy theatre that is basically an extension of my current mind-set. I keep finding myself down a path in my brain that I haven’t found before, in some terrifying little hole that’s crammed with exciting (terrifying) blinking eyes and black glitter and millions of post-its and bottles of laughing and tears and fear and dreams. It’s bloody odd, to say the least.

At least I know that I want to do things when this dreaded fortnight is over. That’s got to be worth something. Sitting doing sweet F-A doesn’t seem like my ideal future. But I have to get there first. And that, of course, is the challenge.