Yesterday, I finally got out of bed and made the conscious decision to do something with all the free time I’ve been granted by this quarantine. Previous to that, I’ve been lounging around the house in the same oversized Nirvana shirt, sitting at the edge of my seat and letting my anxiety drive me to refresh the news just one more time for the thousandth time that day.
I got dressed in a loose dress and cardigan and got to work. I cleaned my whole room, decluttered every single nook and cranny then reorganized my bookshelves. For the first time in two months, I felt like I had my life together.
I spent the whole day cleaning, then I settled down to read for the night. Curling up in the corner of my lounge chair with a book and a candle flickering almost in sync to the crescendo of Stravinsky’s piano felt like returning home after a long, long trip. Finally, normalcy during this time of so many unknowns.
I believe the catalyst to this sudden change can be credited to the creation of a new account. I’ve gone down the rabbit hole of Tumblr again, but this time instead of the grunge, rock scene, I’ve found a community that so closely resembles what I’ve been searching for for so long: dark academia. Everything from the visual aesthetic, the love for literature, the thirst for learning about the most obscure topics. Everything just fit, and I loved it.
If you want to follow my DA tumblr, then feel free. I reblogged post after post and, almost out of nowhere, a lengthy list of books and poems was born. Finding out about this almost hidden society sparked my love for everything academia once more, and I cannot thank it enough.
As a result of this new found love, I found R.C. Waldun and ended up watching his video essays on literature and philosophy for longer than I would like to admit. A video that stood out to me in particular was one titled “The Role of Writing – The Fly Problem.” I’ve posted it here for your convenience, but I will briefly outline my point if you do not plan on watching it. At the beginning, he relays a short story about a fly and personal experiences; how we all go through similar experiences but in solitude and how literature allows us to see that we are not, in fact, alone in our walk of life. For some odd reason, this one minute fable sparked my interest and drove me to write a bit of an expanded version.
I have loved creative writing for all my 17 years, but it has been a while, so putting words on paper for the first time in years felt intimidating, but somehow not at all at the same time. Having this story already told to me made it easier. I just put my own touch on it, a little flourish. It’s not great, I will admit, but it is something. I hope to publish it tomorrow once I finish it up and run through final edit. Maybe this little piece will allow me to dive back into writing, for real this time.
Aside from mediocre writing and musings about why literature exists, I decided to choose a subject to self study during my summer since my virtual exams are nearing their end. Having always been interested in politics and international relations, I chose to sink my teeth into a global politics textbook. Just reading the introduction made me realize how little my knowledge spans. I found it incredibly odd that I’ve never really thought of a definition for the word. Something as simple yet complex as defining a whole field into a sentence felt daunting. I am nowhere near widely read about political theory, but knowing I have so many summer nights to explore it weirdly puts a smile on my face.
That was my day, and now, in the cool embrace of 3AM, I’m taking a short break to write this before I get back to studying for my exam tomorrow. I still am unsure of what direction my blog is taking after this whole new start situation, but I enjoy writing on here significantly more compared to a couple years ago. Expect to read some academic style essays, gushes over art, some more of these stream of consciousness, journal style posts, maybe some more fiction, some music… I do not know, but thats what excites me.