Allow me to indulge in cliches for a moment.
Today was the perfect example of a day threatening to spoil what has been a sensational week, but which, thanks to resolve, has become another excellent set of memories. And so, I’m afraid, cliches best fit the situation. Here are a few of the awful things which work well: ‘I fell, but I got back up‘; I came ‘back from the brink‘; I thoroughly ‘would not give up‘; I ‘looked into oblivion‘ but did not jump.
Horrible. Disgusting. Putrid.
However, very true. What happened is this: I thought, cleverly, that I should reduce the intake of caffeine in my first coffee in the day before my logic lecture. ‘I don’t want to overdo it and get a headache when I drink more before my workout, so I’ll skimp a little,’ I thought, as I tipped a singular desert-spoonful of Nescafe into some Cravendale milk (I’m expecting endorsement from all brands I mention). Error.
I didn’t even feel too bad until the second half of the lecture when all around me (luckily I sit with the brightest people on the course, which is usually a source of great discussion, debate and poignant wit — but only when I’m not pining for a stimulant to awaken me) raced off to devise full truth tables with the logical adequate set of {V, ⁓} which requires actual brain work (which I’m usually excited to take part in). Minutes later there were brackets in brackets in brackets (in brackets, like this), and I felt like the world was passing me by.
This, dear reader, is where the cliche kicked in: I took to twitter (who couldn’t care less — even less now I’m writing a blog post about it): “a little setback? Okay, I’ll go twice as hard.”
And, the joyous thing is, I did. I marched to the gym, probably acquiring no shortage of odd looks, stormed my way into the weights room and began the 90 minute clinic only to find out that I felt vile. Of course, I couldn’t lie to my 80 followers on twitter, now, could I? I perservered, somehow managing to work in Pink Floyd into my cardio (never done before by anyone, ever) and returned home to a cup of tea and to attack the logic work I had let bury me earlier.
And how delightful it feels. Of course, it could have gone completely wrong (as it has many, many times) and I may have been in a foul mood: I might have come home, set fire to all of my clothes, deleted this website, replaced it with the word ‘FUCK’ in huge letters and jumped, head first, out of my (ground floor, double glazed) window to my death.
Instead? I feel triumphant, resurgent, and sublime: since finishing my logic work I conversed with my delightful flatmates, finished reading the delightful Jane Eyre, sang to the delightful Beatles and then wrote this ridiculous blog post.
One other thing I forgot to mention is that my anti-Gaga (more accurately, anti-’Monster’) piece was published in the Sussex Uni newspaper today, which was delightful.
What was the point of this? Why have I wasted your and my time? This being 2012, the year that the world ends, I feel that we should all live life as if it was a cliche. So I will leave you with this philosophical nugget: