Constructing the Dissertation

The Dissertation:

(or, maybe, magnum opus)

A year’s – a life’s? – work

All my fears about my honours year dissertation in one handy haiku. I have been writing about the international law on rape during war, and what improvements can be made, since around July last year when I picked the topic. Some of the research was harrowing, but necessary. I am extremely proud of the work I’ve put in but I naturally feel that I could have done more. Fingers crossed now for a First! Lol.

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numb

So, 3 whole months since I last created and posted anything. During that time I’ve been:

busy, hopeful, sad,

heartbroken, lonely, nervous,

proud, happy, tired

That’s as much as I can manage for now. Poetry involves expressing feelings and emotions that it’s often difficult to allow to happen.

Outside In

A hothouse orchid

is ignorant to the plight

of the wildflower

 

I’m back! It’s been a while, but the must has returned and I am writing again. Deadlines be damned! Every time I have to write an assignment or bits of my dissertation I sit at my table in front of the window and I can see into some of the flats across the road. Watching the families come in and out, and now putting up their Christmas trees, reminded me that I live alone. It’s hard not to feel a bit left out sometimes!

Confidence

So I’ve been thinking a lot recently about inspiration for creativity – I’ve written a bit about it here too. I am incredibly self-conscious in everything I do, and constantly second guess myself. Good for some things, not for others. Being creative requires a certain amount of flow – it has to be natural, sometimes spontaneous, to be really good and that can be difficult if you’re worried about being wrong/silly. So today I finally had a bit of a day off, and got home from the shops, broke out the notebook, and wrote this based on my observations and experiences in the last hour:

 

rain darkens the sky

bruised purple, night closes in

I head for shelter

 

I really, really enjoy reflecting on something as mundane as popping out to the shops and hoping to get back before the rain starts – I’m happy with that little haiku.

I kept the notebook out and wrote a silly wee sentence because I was just in the mood for writing, and realised that  I had written it in exactly 17 syllables, without trying. I fear it may be time to stop second guessing myself.

 

Damn. I just ran out of wine, but it’s raining outside. Dilemma. Hmm.

 

It’s still autumn? Ok, one more then

fiery sunset

train rumbles towards darkness

blue skies left behind

 

The sunset today was incredible, but the train was so full of people and yet so quiet that I couldn’t use my phone to get a pic of it for fear of being seen acting really weird (my phone takes the loudest pictures). You’d think I’d be ok with being branded as a bit strange after a whole lifetime of strangeness, but some days I’d rather just blend.

After a Long Break

the search for the muse

can lead to unknown places

or bring you back home

 

you remain silent,

so longed-for answers must wait

maybe forever

 

Just about every word of this post has at least a double meaning. Inspiration has finally struck. I generally don’t like to refer to an anonymous “you” in anything I write, but in this case I think it’s appropriate. “You” know who “you” are.