Tenatively Updated

There is another post in the works, also inspired by Hannah Nicole, entitled "Quotidian Life in Twenty-Eight Verbs", and it will be up before the end of the month if my to-do list behaves itself and refrains from flinging any obnoxiously time-consuming task in my lap at the last possible moment. However, that must wait, as I am taking advantage of a day planned in exclusion of science (barring a bit of homework from the previous day's chapter) and venturing to scribble out a slapped-together post for the sake of those readers who fall into the category of 'family', and therefore merit the time even if I had not originally begun with much to say. Indeed, I have little of substance to relate: daily occupation is falling into the presumably disinteresting categories of study, chores, entertainment, and frivolousness. The last is not strictly pointless, as it pertains to far more than a twiddling of thumbs and gazing blankly at the wall in pretended thought, but I shall address the items on the list chronologically and avoid premature explanation.

 

Study:

 

Despite my original trepidation regarding the detraction study would prove from preparation for November's writing project, I did set out after all to crack open the Human Biology textbook so generously provided for me, and have been, for several days, steadily working through the first several chapters. While the factual material appears to be accurate enough, I was quite disappointed to find that the caliber of the study questions and the clarity of the text had been compromised by an unanticipated infiltration of intellectual stupidity. The number of ambiguous pronouns used is enough to induce a peremptory attack of red ink in hopes of rendering the material clear enough to actually facilitate learning instead of producing a panicked grammatical confusion—it does make all the difference in the world if that "it" refers to human beings instead of a particular chemical process; it changes the answer entirely, and by so doing alters my grade! Not that the grade has any bearing on my performance, which is one of the nice things about studying on one's own time, with no obligation to school or teacher or certification intended for achievement. There is no one but myself to care how many study questions I answer correctly, or how well I grasp the criteria for determining whether something is a living organism or an inorganic object. Not only am I free to select whatever topics I wish to master, I am also at liberty to determine what constitutes a satisfactory level of achievement in those areas, and such power is refreshing after being imposed upon by the regulations of formal education for so long.

 

While not actually assigning myself any work from the textbook today, homework did make the agenda: the reviewing of cellular reproduction by the process of mitosis. This afternoon, equipped with pen, notebook, and anatomy and physiology colouring book, I set out to accomplish the monumental task of grasping mitosis. And, much to my surprise (and—be assured—glee), I did just that. The occasion required celebration, two hours later, with a five-o'clock lunch of honey nut cheerios. After how many courses of science with the process cogently explained how many times, and I, in post-high school study, finally, for the first time, comprehend an overview of what takes place? That is either tribute to my mental density or a poor case for the effectiveness of science curriculum in general; I leave it to you to decide the answer.

 

Chores:

 

Sweeping the kitchen floor is a remarkably effective method for relieving stress. So is folding laundry. However, to be properly relaxing, both tasks require a bubble akin to that which is necessary for engaged writing, and that bubble has recently been punctured. Because of this, considerably less attention is being paid to such tasks; sedentary employment is proving more appealing.

 

Entertainment:

 

Recent indulgence in reading a slew of children's books is bringing about acquaintance with such necessary childhood classics as Harold and the Purple Crayon, Mrs. Pepperpot and the Magic Wood, and the ever charming Winnie-the-Pooh, which, I am ashamed to admit, I am reading for the very first time. Children's stories are not the only reading that has occupied my time lately, though; just today I finished Lynne Truss's Eats, Shoots & Leaves, a delightful and informal read on the casual usage of punctuation in these contemporary times, as well as another non-fiction book that had been sitting on my metaphorical shelf for some time: Letters to Barbara, by Leo Meter; both books had been in my possession for far too long, and both were in sore need of reading, being volumes of considerable worth. The former has imbued in me a fresh zeal for punctuation and a renewed awareness of those small marks of clarity, which means I shall, from now on, be making considerably more conscious use of the semi-colon and deliberately employing hyphens, commas, and colons for emphasis, not to mention keeping careful watch over apostrophes lest I, through careless scribbling, misplace a one. The latter, having whetted again my long-held interest in the intimate history of World War Two and the individuals who walked upon this earth during that time, has given me immediate reason to pick up The Diary of Anne Frank sooner than I had anticipated, to read and savour once again; it has also romanticized the idea of pictorial correspondence, so that all of my little friends and correspondents may be certain of receiving letters with poorly-drawn sketches done in ink over the margins. Leo Meter took lessons in drawing from his early teens. I, on the other hand, lack skill enough to even draw a decent representation of a cell nucleus's nucleolus.

 

Frivolousness:

 

This category of assorted activities would include anything from browsing suspicious websites for paper dolls to running through Mozart's "Rondo alla Turca" on the keyboard, something which involves far less skill than enjoyment, and is this procrastinating dilettante's method of musical education, along with roaming YouTube in order to unearth new and appreciable artists and songs. Compulsively keeping tabs on my own Goodreads statistics and browsing my friends' shelves to collect new titles for my 'to read' pile is a guilty pleasure; also, for some odd reason, an urge to journal has been nudging its way into my life, much like a dog shoving its nose into a bystander's hand in hopes of petting: while I have no designated journal, the Logbook is reclaiming its identity as a scribbler, and does receive the occasional confidence. As of today, the newest task on this particular to-do list is the watching of the latest The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, for the sake of showing it as it truly is, in all its flawed pathos. While I had never intended to see that movie again, necessity requires it of me, and exposing it for the cheap sensationalism that it is will more than do justice the time spent watching it.