Ear Plugs

I have been wearing them an awful lot this past week.

On a bit of a whim I decided to get a cheap packet of ear plugs with a purchase I was already intending to make. I did not do this out of necessity. There are times when I do want silence and this is not fully possible due to other people. Usually in these circumstances I would put on some music to drown out the noise; for at least if there is sound, I want it to be sound that I can control.

Ear plugs seem to take this issue of control even further. I have found myself wearing them at times that extraneous noise would not even really bother me. The fuzzy vibration of them and the cutting off of the sense of hearing allows me to focus to an even greater degree. Even if the outside noise is at a minimum, completely blocking it out noticeably helps me to work.

Wearing ear plugs is quite a unique sensory experience. It is amazing to rap your hands on your desk and not actually be able to hear the result. I would liken it to being at a very loud concert, singing along except completely unable to hear yourself. It forces you to question how real those actions actually are. I would not posit that just because I cannot hear something, it is not happening. However, the experience of clapping your hands is a very different experience to clapping your hands when you are temporarily deaf.

My only problem now is a growing addiction to these ear plugs and a wariness of enjoying this retreat away from a sensory, tangible world.

-The English Student

New Shoes?

My shoes are in a bad way.

I have had them for a good few months at this point and their age is starting to show. Both heals are just about separated from the rest of the shoes. There are holes in various parts of them that invariably let whole puddles of water into them. The laces refuse to stay tied for more than a twenty minute walk. Finally, they are really starting to smell unpleasant.

So the answer to this non-question is to get rid of them. But I sincerely do not want to. To one extent it is a monetary concern. Another concern is the actual process of shoe shopping that I find painful. Both of these fears however, are mitigated by the fact that I already own a spare pair of shoes that are exactly the same as my current ones; only not on the point of falling to pieces. Is it just stubbornness then that keeps me in this so-called shoes?

I believe that they have a certain latent memory in them. For instance, I do not know what shoes the laces came from but I have had them for awhile. There is a certain continuity in wearing the same shoes throughout different seasons, different situations and different places. I have often been asked why I do not give up these relics and indeed, I soon may be obliged to. But my answer has to be that I do not want to lose an element of personal continuity in a world that disrupts all claims to this continuity.

Are my shoes me? No. But they are a linking point from the person I am now all the way back to the person who originally bought them.

-The English Student

Crying in My Sleep

More odd dreams seem to be surfacing.

In these recent dreams I find myself inexplicably crying. As with most dreams, the actual events that lead up to me crying in this dream are shrouded in mystery. I had no idea why I was crying except that it felt like it was from a deep well of sorrow. Not tears of joy then.

Upon awaking I felt suitably terrible. yet not for the reason that I initially thought. Of course, whatever it was that had me upset in the dream lingered for a few moments when I awoke. However, after reflection I began to wonder if this dream affected me so much due to the fact that I feel unable to actually cry while awake.

The release of crying has eluded me for years, much as I have tried to find consolation in it at times. In some respects, this dream mimics a more standard erotic dream. Except instead of sexual release, I had emotional release. Much like a sexual fantasy, the events that created my recent dream are lost in my psyche and the fulfilment of the fantasy is no nearer.

Perhaps this fantasy of catharsis can some day be realised. Until then, I will have to take comfort from crying in my sleep.

-The English Student

A Mini Modern Colony

Colonialism in a traditional sense is dead.

Colonialism in an economic and cultural sense is very much alive. What better way to enact the goals of colonialism - the subsummation of an area into your own - than the exportation of culture. What is more, the illusion that this culture is a choice for people and that they can ignore it if they decide to do so highlights the pervasive nature of this colonialism.

I have grafted a colony in a certain space that I sometimes occupy. It contains nationalist symbolism and cultural objects that paint it as a very certain cultural power within the lands of a counter-cultural power. However, this small 'colony' is less about controlling other people than controlling a certain space.

Herein lies the difference between these demonstrations of nationalism. I have a cultural relationship with these places and their influences manifest themselves in every aspect of my personality. I am not forcing cultural colonialism onto people, I am simply expressing that part of my cultural identity that is currently disconnected from its foundation.

These mini modern colonies are far more wholesome than the overarching cultural imperialism that affects them.

-The English Student

Constantly Leaving

I am sick of saying good-bye.

I had a great time over the holidays and I got to greet a lot of people that I had not seen for awhile. Quite soon however, these hellos became good-byes. When I was talking to people early in the holidays it was all about greetings because there was no immediate sign of us parting again. When our time began to run out the greetings became inseparable from the good-bye.

I should have anticipated this. The argument goes that separation fosters relationships as you gain perspective on these relationships and realise their value. I do have to say that I did find this somewhat accurate. Triumphant returns were all the more triumphant after this separation.

However, the benefits of these partings become completely hollow in the moment that they are occurring. If I have to keep saying good-bye to people then I will feel increasingly isolated. My relationships are becoming compartmentalised to certain times and certain places. I used to compartmentalise them myself. There is a luxury in blaming myself for that separation, but these days it is one enforced on me by situation.

That type of leaving is far more difficult to suffer.

-The English Student