9:30am - I woke up! Achievement one of the day! Today, I did it with a bit of a sense of dread. Tuesdays are a busy one for me, and sometimes I’m not sure I have the energy for it. I stayed in bed for quite a while, honestly, with that weird feeling in my chest of really not wanting to do all of this. But, laying in bed rotting away scrolling my three Apps doesn’t actually take the feeling away.
10:30am: I told you I laid in bed for a while. No more – I made some toast for breakfast. Gourmet. I also made a run to the corner shop for an energy drink, knowing I’d need one to get through today. I chose a strawberry Monster, and much to my displeasure, found out that my corner shop is closing for four weeks from tomorrow for refurbishment. Where the hell am I gonna get my cheap silly drinks from?! Anyway, to accompany my toast and energy drink, two episodes of Breaking Bad, a show I’ve watched time and time again. Perfect for when I don’t actually want to think about anything at all. I need to preserve my brain power for four straight hours of classes.
12:15pm: After my Breaking Bad time, it was time for lunch and afternoon meds. For lunch, I kept up my absolute gourmet university student diet and had [drumroll please] pasta with butter, cheese, and garlic granules! It was really bad, thanks for asking! Greasy, pretty flavourless, and with the hallmark texture of gluten-free pasta. But, it cushioned my stomach for 10mg of Prozac.
12:30pm: Bus time! I could technically walk to university, but it’s a very, very uphill battle, and trust me, it’s a battle alright. I begrudgingly spend £1.20 on the bus for the sake of my sanity and leg muscles.
12:45pm: Bus trip over, and I made it to uni. With about 15 minutes to spare until my first class, I actually had a book to return to the library today, so I went there. I dodged canvassers on my way – I already bloody voted, okay?! How many times?! I jest, I appreciate their… vigour.
1pm: First class of the day starts now, but not before a trip up to the fourth floor in a lift I really do not enjoy being in. It’s a seminar for my International Relations Theory module, and this week’s topic is Marxism. We, first, as a class, go through some of the key concepts of Marxism. I bring double-freedom into it; “you’re free to sell your labour value however you please, or you’re free to starve and die.” Then, we break off into pairs to discuss the events of the weekend in Iran through a Marxist lens. Me and my partner come to two conclusions. First, that it all comes back to oil money and owning the means of production in Iran – see the 1950s. Second, that the positioning of the war of aggression as “for democracy” serves to reinforce false consciousness. If you believe it’s about democracy, because the top dog says so, you won’t question monetary motives. Therefore, capitalism will have you right where it wants you – unable to truly see its ghastly form all around you and within you. All in all, a good class. I really like this module, actually, which surprised me. Having a good lecturer goes a long way when it comes to theory.
2pm: I leg it across campus, up a lot of stairs (you wouldn’t believe this campus, honestly), to my second class. It’s a very Feminism 101 esque course. This week, we’re discussing queer experiences in the global south; specifically, Hijra communities and lesbians in Uganda. If I’m honest, I was pretty zoned out in this class. I had gotten some good but questionable feedback on my performance from the leader – that I made great, useful points from further reading, but that I should basically hold peoples’ hands through my complex “sophisticated” points (I’m literally just roleplaying Judith Butler, it’s not that hard, man). Weird. I didn’t feel like holding anyone’s hand today, so I kept my mouth shut for the most part. The one point I did make was on existence as resistance for queer people, pointing out the “do drugs now!” sticker I have on my laptop referencing HRT. I talked about how reclaiming derogatory phrasings about ourselves, such as the word “queer” and HRT as “dangerous drugs” is often particularly poignant in resisting our oppressions.
3pm: Back down the hill for a lecture I go, trailing along with my table-mates from the feminism seminar. A nice bunch, they let me sit with them in the 3pm IR theory lecture despite not really being part of their friendship group. Coincidentally, this IR theory lecture is also on feminism! This module moves really quickly, though, exploring a new theory every lecture. We go through the very basics, the waves of feminism, the different conceptions of feminism, be it liberal, radical, Marxist, post-structuralist, or post-colonial. We go over gender, and even sex to my surprise, as social constructs, mere groupings. A little bit of queer theory gets sprinkled in, too, also to my surprise. We talk about homonationalism and pinkwashing, LGBT rights at home being used to reinforce ideas about sovereignty in justifying restrictive immigration policies and so on. Because it’s an IR module, the main body of the lecture, or the main point, is how feminism expands our understanding of IR, a typically masculine and male-dominated field, asking where the women are. How feminism changes our understandings of security from the security of the ever-masculine war-fighting abstract state, to ideas of women’s security and security of the body. This is probably the best lecture on feminism I’ve been in so far, and I leave very happy.
4pm: The dread really kicks in as I walk with an acquaintance up to our next lecture. On our way, we discuss how terrible this module is. US intelligence. It’d be fascinating were it not for the sheer disorganisation of the lectures. Not only are the lectures completely incomprehensible and non-linear, never explaining anything, but the lecturer is one who simply reads off the slides. We say how we’re both going to be lucky to pass. As we enter, the tables are missing? So we write on our laps. It’s a lecture on US intelligence agencies counter-terrorism and counter-intelligence programs and events, and that’s honestly about all I can tell you. I think the point was that… actually, I don’t even know. I’ll get back to you. Or not. God, I’m so failing this class.
5pm: I start my descent down the ever-treacherous hill to come home. I decide on my walk to write a day in my life blog post, because I’m a nosy little fuck and love knowing all about peoples’ days and lives, so maybe you do, too.
5:20pm: I get home, and I start writing this! It’s nice to talk mindlessly after a very mind-full day.
6pm: Another mammoth task is to be done; dishes. Made much more entertaining by my housemate, who has a downstairs street-level bedroom, telling me about how, last night, a man fingered a woman outside of his bedroom and he heard the moaning. Just in the street! And they walked as they did it! That’s some skill. I giggle and return to my bedroom for some minor tidying up – throwing recycling away, putting shoes and clothes in their rightful places.
6:30pm: Rot.
7pm: I keep having weird hot flashes – I think down to being glutened a few days ago, and being due to start my period any day now. Not the combination. I take a shower to try and calm my body down, and to get out of dirty clothes and into cozy pyjamas. I’m not a cool person. I’m in my pyjamas in bed with Netflix at 7pm, and damnit, I love it.
7:45pm: Sweet and sour rice for tea! It’s not good, but I’m not going food shopping until tomorrow, so it’ll have to do. I might as well sign off here, since I’m having a night of Netflix and doing absolutely nothing. Bye bye :)
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