Write the night away, and dream the day away…

It’s that time of year again. When the days are getting longer, sunnier, and warmer, and all I want to do is roam, free as a bird, and take in the atmosphere of an approaching summer.

Then there are the exams. And essays. Those big bullies. They force me to remain inside, locked up in my room, or behind big glass windows in the library, laughing at me as I longingly look out on the sun-bathed city and harbour.

This year, another bully has joined the others. A bigger and badder bully than the rest. His name is Rugby World Cup. And he teases me with the prospect of drinking and partying all night long, and having a lazy as day the next day.

But my brain, bullied and beaten, recoils from its dark corner, and tells me that no matter how tempting it is to give in to the bullies’ taunts and bad influence, I must focus on my assignments first and foremost. And so I try to do that.

On the first day I wrote 1,100 words on a 2,500-2,800 word film essay. On the second day I added another 1,000 words. On the third day I decided to try a different approach and started all over again; 660 words on the third day. On the fourth day the New Zealand national rugby team, the All Blacks, were playing Australia in the world cup semi-final. Words written: 0. Beers consumed: roughly 7.

I can’t know the meaning of self-discipline unless I cave in once or twice, right?

On the fifth day, I woke up at 11am and then spent almost 4 hours reading Harry Potter. Word count so far: 281. On assignment: Zero.

Time to turn the day upside down and live out my fantasies while I’m awake and spend the dark hours writing without interruption…

Wait, what?

We’re celebrating Halloween tonight? Oh, well, I suppose my invitation to at least one of the hundreds of parties happening in Wellington right now just got lost in the mail… or cyberspace… or space…

No, who am I kidding? Since when have I ever been the one who gets invited to parties? Trust me, I got used to being left out a long time ago. (My near inability to make new friends is also to blame.) Besides, I’ve satisfied my brief want of society for today. I’m not the kind of person who goes to parties – I’m the kind of person who goes to the supermarket at 11pm to buy coffee – and that’s enough interaction with other people for me.

I get the weirdest urges when a stranger talks to me or looks at me when I’m in town. If they talk to me, depending on what they say, I usually ignore them or give them a vague smile or, if they ask me something, I shrug my shoulders and keep on walking. If they merely stare at me, I get a mad desire to punch them – especially if they give me one of those sleazy looks. I thought cynical me had been banished from my life, but apparently that part of me is alive and well and speaking and acting on my behalf whenever I’m around people I don’t know. It’s kind of frustrating how my claim that I’m a ‘recovering’ cynic seems to be a lie – I’m just a cynic. My recovery isn’t making any progress.

Also, I was (un)fortunate enough to walk past Public (my favourite pub on Courtenay Place) just as the rugby match between the All Blacks and the Wallabies was in its final minutes, so I stopped to watch the rest of it. The score was NZ 24 – AUS 19, and the Wallabies were pushing for a try, hovering very close to the dangerous line. The All Blacks kept holding them back – they entered injury time – and then, past fulltime, the Wallabies managed to break through NZ’s defense and score a final try, making the score 24-24; and with the successful conversion made afterwards, the final score was NZ 24 – AUS 26. Gutted. Here’s a report of the match.

I  can hear fireworks again. For real. I’m amazed, there’s nothing to celebrate tonight, is there?