Emily Rivers, the girl who was writing that rather esoteric (and not in a good way, at all) blog over two years ago, has come a long way since then. She is now at the University of East Anglia reading English Literature and Philosophy.
I'm not quite sure why I've just been talking about myself in the third person.
So I've been here in Norwich for almost seven weeks now and I'm loving it. I appear to be one of the only students between our two flats (Flat 21, the flat I'm in, and Flat 22 next door) that is not ever-so-slightly homesick. Originally I wasn't really planning on coming to UEA to do Literature AND Philosophy, but those ten marks off an A in Drama and Theatre Studies really screwed me over. But all in all, Philosophy is a really interesting subject and I'm certainly enjoying it. It's all rather hard work though; Aristotle appears to be a confusing man to get your head around. I'm sure it'll all click soon.
I have 5 wonderful flatmates: (Native) Christine, Sheila, Alex, Nathan, and (American) Christine. They're all such great fun and we gelled pretty much instantly. American Christine will be leaving us at the end of the semester and it's going to be such a say day. We are all really not looking forward to it. It's going to be weird for the new flat mate though. I would be really scared coming into a new place where everyone's already had 12 weeks to bond. I guess we will have to be especially nice to him or her.
Anyway, the reason I decided to restart blogging was that in tutorial for Reading Texts (one of the Literature modules I'm enrolled on), we looked at Sylvia Plath's journals and discussed how a reader can read these, when it is reasonable to assume that she may not have written them for an audience. However, due to the nature of Plath, I think she most probably wished that one day someone would want to read her journals - and of course she was right. In that case, did she take a more creative tone to her journals than she would have if they were purely for her eyes only? That we will never know now, but it seems to me that the style in which she wrote them is one she would know would be interesting for an outside to read - therefore making them publishable. This way Plath could enjoy reading back on her writings (or not, as the case may be in her tragic case), and possibly share them with the rest of the world.
I realise I have gone off on a rather wild tangent. Basically, reading Plath's journals gave me the incentive to start blogging again. I am of course writing for an audience, anyone on the WWW, but as I won't advertise this so much as to get a following, it is mainly for my personal pleasure, to look back in years to come at my life during university, and to remember all the stupid things I said as a young impressionable student. Perhaps some people will stumble across my posts one day and take the time to read them. But chances are they won't. There will just be a little piece of my history living on when I'm dead, a small part of myself that I've left behind, and perhaps it'll show something about the way young people were living through the first few decades of the 21st century.
Or perhaps no one will ever find this blog at all.
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