small.

I've had an essay to write. And an article. And a short story. And I've got an exam coming up. So I've mostly just been 'noticing' papery things - lined paper, books on 'time and modernism', the novel Mrs. Dalloway (beautiful book), the changing shape of my handwriting throughout the day (at the start: neat, by the end of the day: not so).

Other than that here are three small noticings: (one) the boy on my train picking an eyelash off his girlfriend's cheek, (two) the light hitting my glass of water, making it look like it was glowing, (three) the funny/wonderful spelling of the word 'vacuum' (two 'U's in a row!! How have I never noticed this before?!).

And... I've recently come across the drawings of Gemma Correll (you should take a look at her website, if y'like. Brilliant). I thought I'd share a couple of them on here because they made me smile:

mindmaps are wonderful (essays are not).

I may have overdone it slightly with the mindmaps... I'm currently trying to coax all of this (and more) into an essay structure. Difficult when your mind doesn't really work in a linear fashion...

forgotten words.

Many things gave me completeness
They did not only touch me
My hand did not merely touch them
but rather
they befriended
     my existence.

~ from ‘Ode to Things’ by Pablo Neruda (cited in ‘Lost in Wonder’ by Esther de Wall)

I stumbled across these words again last week. I keep copying them out into various journals or on the back of envelopes ...and then forget about them, only to find my breath taken away a little when I reread them. In this poem, Neruda is writing about how he loves ordinary things (like cups and coins and spoons and fabric). ‘I love all things...’ he writes.

...not only the grand,
but also the infinite
-ly
small.

I’d like to try and read more poetry over the summer. Poets often have a way of saying things that I’ve always felt deeply, but have never quite known how to say. These words - ‘they befriended my existence’ - when I read them, I feel like I am filled with little bursts of light.

(picture from: Cake with Giants)

I should invest in a compact mirror.

While sorting through the pictures on my phone, I noticed that I have about four hundred and eleven* photos of the back of my head.

'But why?’ I (don’t actually but will imagine for the purposes of this post that I) hear you ask.

 

It’s not because I particularly like to look at the back of my head (although, you know, I am glad it’s there). It’s more because I’m trying to check for unruly hairs in order to flatten them. I tend to attack my hair with millions of kirbie grips to keep it up and in the process, little strands of hair tend to stick straight up ...which (to the UFO-fearing-eye) can make it look like I have antennae coming out my head.

To answer your question then (yes, I know you didn’t actually ask it, but play along with me here), I take these pictures to try and reassure the people walking behind me that I am, in fact, human. I take them to avoid having to overhear whispered conversations like this:

‘Is - is that an alien walking on front of us, Fred?’

‘I’m not sure, Mabel. It doesn't appear to be. It’s got arms and legs like us, and I can’t see any green skin.’

‘I know that Fred. But the antennae? What about the antennae, Fred? They look quite extra-terrestrial-ish to me.’

Fear not humans. I am one of you! 

(*note: possibly a slightly exaggerated number. Anyway... I should actually be writing an essay just now so cheerio!)