Ringing the changes

Brrr, it's cold. My excuse for posting to my blog now is that I won't be able to start on my essay until my hands have warmed up a bit anyway. So. I've decided that I'm bored of my blog's name and wish to change it, but I'm not imaginative enough to come up with anything (maybe the cold has numbed my creative capacities). So it's down to you, my beloved readership. Come on, it's not hard to come up with something better than what I've got now, which exists mainly because I created this blog late at night and couldn't be bothered to sit there and think up a decent name because I wanted to get to bed.

Any ideas?

What a week...

Well, lots of fun and exciting things have happened since I last blogged, and I'm uber-busy as usual, so again it's going to have to be a mere list of fun and exciting things. Just imagine each one is an extensive blog entry.

- Last Sunday, I played cello in Beethoven's 9th Symphony in King's College Chapel. Ooh, it was awesome. I couldn't play the damn thing to save my life, but it was awesome. And I managed to ward off indigestion pains just in time to not spend the concert doubled up in agony, which is always handy.

- Last Wednesday, I went to Thanksgiving Superhall (superhalls are super-good King's formal halls). Ooh, it was tasty. There was turkey with chestnut and apricot stuffing, and pumpkin pie, and warm mulled cider. My God, it was tasty. And there was a ceilidh afterwards, which means much Scottish-dancing fun for all! Yay!

- On Friday, it was Cambridge Christmas (25th November), and it snowed! It was just icing-sugar and it didn't settle at all, but in my book it's still a White Christmas and nobody can tell me otherwise! Also, there was a big party in Emma's room with a Christmas tree and mulled wine and carols out in the corridor (accompanied by various people who produced violas and flutes and things out of nowhere), to which about half the block turned up. The only explanation I can think of for it not getting closed down by the porters despite going on till about 5am is that everyone for many rooms around was there, so there was nobody left to complain.

- Yesterday, I rowed in Clare Novices, my first and quite possibly last boat race for King's. We lost, of course, due to having only rowed as an eight about four times and therefore being quite rubbish. But in fairness, we were racing Newnham, who have about three times as many girls to choose from as we do. Anyway, it was lots of fun, and losing meant we could go back to the boathouse and eat chocolate instead of having to race in the next round, by which time it had started pouring with rain, so I think we got the best deal.

- Also yesterday, Mark won National Novel Writing Month for the second year in a row! Woo! (Well, if he's not going to blog about it, someone has to.) Look at his funky winner's icon here, and his funky wordcount-graph here! And ignore the silly photo! (That hat's mine, by the way, which is why it looks so foolish.)

Ah, blogging's so great. I hadn't realised what an ace week it had been until just now.

Read more books, watch less TV

In an effort to speed up my woeful workrate, I've started typing notes from my reading for my current Politics essay rather than writing them out. Because the essay is on Benjamin Constant (and very interesting he is too), this means I now have a Word file named "constant reading".

Thinking about it, that is a pretty fair summary of my SPS workload.

It's time, Jim, but not as we know it

Cambridge is an odd place. Not just because of the weird university-bubble you exist in, or the strange archaic customs (if you get a first you can legally challenge someone to a duel on King's Bridge, apparently), or the fact that you eat your Sunday brunch in a massive Harry Potter-style hall with oil paintings glaring down at you. Oh no, the bizarreness of Cambridge goes much deeper than such trivialities. Cambridge actually has its own system of time.

Weeks go from Thursday to Wednesday. Do not ask me why; I'm sure there was a reason once. At first, this was just needlessly confusing - week two becomes week three on Thursday, rather than on Sunday or Monday as it would for any normal person. It made deciphering our lecture timetables from the Cambridge Reporter a nightmare which gave me brainache unmatched by any actual work we've had to do since (well, except maybe reading Marx). But this week, the up-side has emerged! See, we've just finished one course of Sociology lectures, which was on Friday afternoons, and are about to start another course, which are on Wednesday afternoons. We had our last lecture with Dr Baert (sob!) last Friday, but because this Wednesday was technically part of that same Cambridgey week, our next Sociology lecture isn't till next Wednesday. (Are you still with me?) In any normal person's calendar, this effectively means we get a week off Sociology lectures. Yay!

But wait, there's more! Cambridge hours go from five past the hour to five to the hour. Together with the closeness of King's to my lecture halls, this puts me in the fantastic position of being able to be still doing my laundry, or talking to Jess on MSN, or having my lunch, at 2 o'clock, and still make it on time for a 2 o'clock lecture. Ah, it's great.

So, I suppose the moral of the story is that stupid fossilised traditions that are only kept up to maintain a general aura of academic eccentricity do have their uses. Which is reassuring.

Things can only get better...

According to Facebook, I now have 6 friends at Cambridge. Woo!

In other news, Crazy Dr Weinberg said my Marx essay was "excellent" (though that may be because he is Crazy), which almost made it worth the endless brain-crushing reading about alienation and the species-being. Woo!

Oh, also, I did a silly thing on Wednesday - I stood for Ethical Investment Officer at CUSU. And I won! Woo? (I am ambivalent about this because it's an amazing opportunity to start a huge campaign for an ethical investment policy, but I have a suspicion it will a) eat my life, b) stress me out no end, and c) disillusion me greatly. I have been told by my college dad, Luke, that working for CUSU is "soul-sucking". But hey, no pain, no gain, right?)

Anyways, I'd best toddle off now, I have to finish reading The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism before 9pm, when there's an Arabian Nights Bop at the Union...