JOURNAL. March 2024.
entry (30.03.2024)
Finished reading La Peste today. Camus is a very strong writer. I will have to properly reread Sisyphus one day. I wrote another page and a half of my sociology essay today. The pieces are fitting together quite well and there is not much left that I need to write. When I initially submitted the essay proposal, my teacher wrote in one comment that if I was going to polemicize with modern psychiatry, that would be a bold move and I would need appropriate literature. I had not at first been much considering polemics with modern psychiatry, but this has turned out something of an inspirational warning, and a sourced criticism is easily accomplished. I am quite happy with the encouragement this essay has provided in developing my own thought (as well as the encouragement I am finding in the philosophical essay I will write under my tutor's supervision). I'm really proud of this, as it is not just synthesis in service of an argument which has been gone over many times but I think a relatively new perspective, which I should be able to develop on later beyond these essays. For a very rare thing I feel driven to learn deeply and follow and the interesting threads I encounter (and there are so many) and finally articulate something. It has been so easy to forget my interests before or very passively engage with them, but this is sustained and pulling.
I spent so many years hardly caring about anything.
Writing (29.03.2024)
I am finally drawing together all of my threads for my sociological essay on the schizoid experience, and it's mostly written. I need only to finish it up, perhaps add the section on Tetsuo, and formalize the citations (I have been keeping the page numbers noted in comments for now). This has required my to engage with the psychiatric approach to schizoidity, which is incredibly frustrating. The DSM authors state that schizoids will admit that schizoids, in the rare instance where they feel comfortable, will admit to social pain. The entire chapter, however, is dedicated to presenting an image of a person with no care for the presence of others and ontologically does not possess any "capacity for intimacy". This is despite the years of literature on schizoidity ever since its conception indicating a deep conflict in the schizoid retreat. To have this, and to have heard the pained admissions of a lonely person's isolation, given with a rare trust, and to discard this entirely is a callousness much deeper than that of which the schizoid is confused. At any rate, I have written one page today and will need three more before I have the minimum of what I need. That should be easy enough, as I have not yet written the conclusion of the piece nor elaborated on the "normal" alienation which schizoidity exposes. This is a somehwat bold essay and bound to be either very good or very bad.
Exhaustion (23.03.2024)
In a particularly mood lately—not merely of exhaustion, as the title would imply. It has been (still is?) a sort of hypomania which at least has given me the ability to go in and talk to people when I need to, even at times to say what I wish to say. I visited my tutor's office hours yesterday to discuss the title of the paper I am to write under his supervision. This would seem to be a simple action for most people. However, it is unintuitive to me to speak to another person unprompted. The severity of this within myself was only observed as a consequence of my having realized how simple the action ought to have been for me. I wonder if sometimes I am treated with a certain delicacy by people who realize that I am "not right". He seemed very insistent that he was not trying to persuade me of anything in particular.
He has gotten me somewhat mixed up with Deleuze. The title amendment he had suggested and which I had come to refuse was based on a certain phrasing of Deleuze which I had not at all discussed with him earlier. But he retreated easily.
I did some grocery shopping today, then went out again. This time I tried a seytan kebab box, which was pretty good. Seytan has a very pleasant texture. Unfortunately I did not manage to read as much as I did the week before. I was very tired by the time I finished (likely a consequence of my not having consumed any caffeine) and it was raining, so I took a tram home instead of walking further to the library. I will need to pick up some of the sale items I know are nearby tomorrow; this will be more inconvenient because I will be going to the library with a full backpack tomorrow to do coursework.
I recently wrote a poem (of a wound), which I uploaded today. I had been worried about getting a decent typography with my limited HTML, but I am satisfied with how I have managed to format it. I worry sometimes that a diachronic look at my poetry reveals a growing incomprehensiblity of my thought and expression.
Doings (16.03.2024)
Went out for several hours today Offline, taking only my old phone (no data) as a glorified music player. Walked to a certain street to get bubble tea and imitation chicken strips, and sat for a while reading La Peste while eating. After I finished, I walked to the library and continued reading. (The book is very interesting in terms of the contradictions of humanity and our alienation, which we tend to suspend except in the case of extreme events (such as a plague). Perhaps when I have more time I will write an analysis of it.) Being without an internet connection was in fact quite relaxing, and I may have to make a weekly routine of this. It was also good to intentionally restrict myself from Working On any of my university projects today, allowing myself to actually focus on the novel I was reading and on simply Enjoying the day. I still allowed myself to note down any ideas which came into my mind, but only as they did so of their own accord. This forced time off actually reignited my interest in the projects I'm working on, as I made them temporarily beyond my reach. I also ended up having some very promising thoughts about the structure of my sociological essay, so that fills me with a new drive.
I wrote some thoughts about the novel down in my "thinking journal", and placed quite a feew quotes + my thoughts on them in my "commonplace journal", which I started recently with a journal I was gifted. So far very early, but I think it's been quite nice for me to have a journal for me to write down things which strike me, without it being part of a particularly organized system (such as my reading journals on here). It allows me to process something deeply without having set out to do so and gives me a lot of freedom in this, as well as providing a nice store of my thoughts.
Today I uploaded to the site a poem (TUMOR) which I had forgotten to add here until now, despite my having written it in November!
Happenings (12.03.2024)
Mailed in the documents for my residence permit today. Had to go to a notarial office to make a certified copy of my rental agreement. Did that in the morning and still got to class on time (on the downside, by waking up an hour early). Hopefully the application goes well enough.
I did get a response back from my tutor on Thursday. He's being picky about the title, but otherwise settled on the topic. Went to speak with him today looking for recommendations on a thread somewhat related to my essay, but about which I might not necessarily write in it. But he had some suggestions, which he promised to send later. He also wanted to agree to have a conversation once I've read what he will send. I did agree to this, as it could be interesting, but it's a bit of a new thing for me. It may be good, though. He could be someone with whom I could discuss my philosophical ideas as I develop them.
Ended up explaining the politeia well enough in my essay. Now I am yet more burdened with unwanted knowledge about Aristotle.
I feel pretty well today. I think I am pulling out of one episode (although, perhaps, into a hypomanic one). In a way I think it may have been prompted by the certain business of my past weeks.
Last Monday, I went into the foreigner's office to submit my fingerprints and further formalize my residency application. My phone's screen also ended up dying (stopped responding to touch) that day, but I was busy all of Tuesday, so I didn't bring it for repairs in until Wednesday. That day I also went to the bank to get some documents I needed to mail in for my application. I navigated both of these situations successfully, so I felt pretty well about that. (I moved my sim card into my tablet, so I've been surviving). On Saturday I participated in a feminist protest, and on Sunday I met up with an acquaintance from Germany. This was all quite a lot, but it went well enough that it was in a way rejuvenating (of course, I wouldn't be able to do something like that every week).
Today I did get a message about my phone being ready to pick up, but because I had classes until evening, I'll pick it up tomorrow.
Yesterday someone brought her cat to the philosophy building. I heard people making strange noises as I left the building and was rather perplexed until I noticed the group gathered around this girl holding a cat. I asked if I could pet her, and I could. Very sweet little dilute calico named Nastazja. I can't discount joy and love in the world when people take care of cats and allow others to see them as well.
Now that I've finished L'Étranger, I'm onto La Peste. Intersting so far, although it took a bit for me to get used to the style after the former work. The edition I'm reading has a note explaining that Camus read The Theatre and its Double as part of his reading for this novel, which I didn't know. It makes me want to read that writing of Artaud's evening more (I need to read it anyways).
entry (02.03.2024)
Blank entry for now so the page isn't empty. Making this as I wait for the bottom coat of my nails to dry.
Of course my tutor promised Tuesday of last week that he would write back about my essay and then did not. He then promised yesterday that he would do so that day, and again did not. I'm not angry, as I know he is busy, but it is difficult for me. I may have to get used to going into speak with him during office hours just because of how difficult email contact is. The problem will be managing to do this even with my alogia.
Did the resit for "classical sociological theories" on Thursday orally. As I had predicted, speaking was perhaps even more difficult for me, and the professor/course coordinator asked me if I would prefer taking the written resit the next day. This ended up really upsetting me, especially as I did have reasons for retaking orally—I had difficulties understanding the intentions of the written questions (for example, thinking that on the question of if Hobbes was authoritarian or liberal, I was supposed to pick one, instead of describing both). We continued orally and he gave me the points I needed to pass (only 2), and told me to write an essay on Aristotle's politeia, which I had struggled with during our conversation. The retake for everyone else was written yesterday, and most failed again. The professor asked if my first language was English, to which I responded affirmatively but clearly reluctantly. He mentioned that I could write in English if I want, but since I study in Polish it may be better for me to write in Polish anyways.
I had the "tutorial" section for that same class later that day, and the teacher for that section told me "congrats" when I walked in, and then asked "did it work?" Presumably he had already heard from the professor how it had worked, but then why ask...? I don't particularly know. It seems he also heard of my dstress from the coordinator as well, given how delicately he responded to something I brought up during the lesson. But that had been a particularly rare moment for me to become so visibly emotional earlier.
Finished L'Étranger yesterday morning. Was good; I really should have gotten around to it earlier. Never expected to find a book with a narrator so emotionally similar to me. Which also made it interesting to read people's reactions to this character as so apparently strange.
At my first university, I took a creative writing course in which I wrote a character with a similarly emotionally blunted approach and not much to say. Classmate remarked on the bluntness and also the humanness. This was one of the moments in which I began to understand humanity as contradiction.