Asthma

These days I have struggled against my old complaint asthma, which finally returned after long-sustained cough. I could hardly breathe and my voice has been horse for about a month (It seemed not mine!). I could barely utter a voice due to hacking dry cough. Bad condition lasted on me several weeks, but a few days ago, suddenly became better. It was helped by the wet days as well as my doctor’s prescription (I really like my doctor, Dr. Kim), I think. Lovable English weather has put down yellow sand in the air.

Though I cannot sing because my singing voice is not stable yet, my talking is not so irritated. Finally, I can speak freely after the lapse of a month. I’m happy for that. Asthma, known to only those who know!

Brit…

Prof. Gilloch’s seminar

Yesterday, attended a seminar hosted by Professor Graeme Gilloch from Lancaster University. His seminars will be held six times every Tuesday from yesterday (except 25 May). The subject of the seminars can be defined in a word, “Urban”. The first one is titled “The Return of the Flaneur” (v., the second is “Seductive Strangers”; the third, Urban Rhythms; the fourth, Orpheus in Paris Ⅰ: Maps and Memories; the fifth, Orpheus in Paris Ⅱ: Images and Others; the sixth, ‘You must remember this . . .’).

The text of yesterday was Michel de Certeau’s one chapter, ‘Walking in the City’, from his work, The Practice of Everyday Life. I’ve ever read Certeau’s The Writing of History, and it was an excellent work. I could know Certeau was deft in writing (his thinking as well) though the text I read was a translation, so he became one of my favourite French thinkers including Michel Foucault. Both of them are based on History.

Professor Gilloch’s British accent was familiar to me, and I felt comfortable on listening to him. Besides, he purposely spoke slowly and clearly for auditors, all of whom were Koreans, so I understood every word of him. In fact, my taste in English has inclined toward British not American since childhood, and I often listen to BBC radio through the internet, not watching CNN, yet cannot wholly understand what the radio says, but just listen.

Professor Gilloch showed us Michel de Certeau’s photo with several theorists’. About Foucault, Benjamin and others, I’ve ever seen their photos, but never Certeau’s, which it was the first time I saw Certeau’s appearance. He is good-looking as Foucault. Foucault’s handsomeness as well as his remarkable works has captured my mind since I first read Foucault. Certeau is definitely different from Foucault in and out, but has attractiveness of his own. Certeau’s side face from the photo reminded me of Jeremy Irons, a little bit.

Yesterday’s subject “Walking in the city” made me imagine listening to one of my favourite song “Walking in the air”, which singing I prefer Aled Jones’s voice to anyone. I was further led to imagine various things such as Dickensian London, Mrs. Gaskell’s Victorian Manchester, Joyce’s Dublin, and so on. And I recalled Conrad’s “damp” and “fluorescent’ night of London in his The Secret Agent. My imagination doesn’t mean that I diverted myself listening to Prof. Gilloch, and I just recalled urban images represented in novels. Therefore, ‘two hours’ was not long to me.

Brit…

Art of refusal: Michael's advice

How can I decline someone (sometimes, something) with good intentions without hurting his/her pride and feeling when I'm not in the mood to accept? Sometimes I become irresolute when a decision is need. I know being refused is a heart-breaking thing, and it naturally hurts one’s feeling. Everyone resumes in their own ways of reacting to rejection, and the effect of being refused varies on each of them. Of course, it depends on situations and personalities, someone easily forget, and someone doesn’t.

I’m not a kind of person who easily requests anything at all, in fact, I rarely request (sometimes, offer) something to others, whatever it is, even if s/he is my friend. It’s because I’m prone to be easily hurt. If I feel requesting easy, I would not mind its consequences, but I cannot. Since I hate/fear to be hurt my pride or feeling, I’m reluctant to present my hands to others before they do. Therefore, I don’t want others’ heart to be hurt as well.

Michael gave advice for me. He said, “If they have enough pride to ask, they should have enough pride to handle whichever answer they're given. You don't have to feel responsible for their feelings. If you were responsible for their feelings, you would have stopped them before they asked in the first place.” He added, “People just don't confront each other and don't like to say ‘no’ when they really want to. I understand why it's difficult, but I would never want to agree to something I oppose. It's important to be true to yourself first and foremost.”

He’s right and the most important thing is that I must be true to myself. I am as I am and I should do as I do.

Brit…

A friend

I think I was frivolous with being stirred up by indescribable feeling. Flippant in old sense and flighty, I disdain, yet I was. I can’t tell why. Often forgetting myself, I miss the very moment to walk the line. I cannot define that I didn’t behaviour properly, but “too much is as bad as too little” (過猶不及). The matter is that I feel I talked too much, just trivial things of mine. People usually don’t want to hear about insignificant others. My own story is nothing to them.

I just got a web-friend yesterday. He is not only my generation but also on a par with me as far as I concern. At least, more than one point of view let us come to a mutual understanding, I think. I know people are naturally different after all, even though they share opinion and interest, and I don’t expect sameness. No one totally matches, and sometimes even I myself discord with me. So many selves in me!

To talk of the new friend, I barely know about him, yet I don’t think his capacity would be as much as Dimitri’s. Dimitri lives on absolutely another horizon, the only one who can chat with me about music, cinema, fine arts, literature, etc, though his literature is mostly Korean, while mine is Western. Our understanding communicates, perspectives levels, and romanticism matches. Thank God I’m always his Violetta! I’ve never met a man like him, but never thought him as a man. He has been good to me all the time, above all, his tolerance and embracement for me compare with none, but just a [male] friend not a boy friend to me. I cannot decide his feeling for me, whereas mine is definite. I miss him, but I won’t. . .

A web-friend is just a web-friend, no more, no less. Nevertheless, he reminds me of Dimitri because we are all of same age and he seems to be a communicable person after a long vacuum. Maybe so, I couldn’t exercise moderation. Hope I wasn’t light.

Brit…

Still not well

After unusual illness in April, I felt better for a moment. Last week I went to school on Wednesday and Thursday. Damn intervallic dry cough remained however, and it didn’t go down. Sometimes a hacking cough held my breath and words. Then the cough has become more and more frequent since weekend and became so severe that I even vomited during coughing, so I couldn‘t go to school again.

My professor/supervisor phoned me this morning, saying he called up at his office. Nowadays I usually study at his office and he calls me up at his office whenever he has something to tell me. After appointed to the Dean of the College of Humanities, he moved to Dean’s office, so his personal/professorial office is vacant for two years. Then he let me, whom his assistant, use his personal office as my own. His office is full of books that I have to (and want to) read for my doctorial thesis. I know I’m endowed with some privilege, because he is not a man who easily shares privacy with others. I am the first person/assistant whom he gave the security key of his office and I deeply appreciate his thoughtful consideration to help me on studying.

Now I can hardly talk since a hacking cough beats me every time I utter a voice. My voice sank down and I feel my throat swollen. I begin to worry about losing my voice. I think I must see the doctor again.

Brit…

Sang a Song

I’ve been deadly ill with flu for three days and nights. Fever, sick and all my body ached. Much worried about that I could not sing at Professor Chung’s retirement reception, which he eagerly wanted me to. I almost recovered by Saturday afternoon, but cough remained and became husky. Anyhow I could sing for him, though it did not meet my satisfaction. In good condition, I could show much more, give more impression to the audience.

I sang “You light up my life”, Debby Boone’s old song without accompaniment. In fact, “You light up my life” is a song that I shared for my professor Bae. I wanted to sing the song for him, because he has really backed me up. His retirement leaves ten years more, however, at then I’ll count on my sixties. Perhaps I’ll have no chance to sing for him. Ridiculous it’ll be if a woman of almost sixties would sing such a song for a man?!

Yesterday I thought it was my last chance for such singing, so sang the song. I think it’s a reasonable song at teachers’ retirement reception, since teachers guide students like a lighthouse and professors are teachers. Professor Chung is also my guide though not my thesis supervisor. I appreciate him for his concern and affection. I know he cares for me. Thank God I’m beloved.

Brit…

PS.)

A song of reserved for the reception! What a super woman I was! It was a very short interval of amazing revitalisation, nobody knew I was ill, but soonest I fell down on bed after that. Going on lying in sickbed with Ringer’s solution till today, I’m almost recovering now and tomorrow may go to school again. (Added on 27 April)

Exhausted Day

I took nosebleed for snivelling.

Everything which irritates me depends on my management. It’s all up to me, and no one can replace me. Frequently I feel some emotional oscillation between uplift and downcast. When suffering from swinging unstableness of mind, I wonder if I’m a manic-depressive psychosis.

Life often seems to go beyond my will and expectation. It is so arbitrary that it may look sporting over me. The life-devil, the dark and negative face of life, uses depression as one of its playing tools, which the tools are its arms to fight against me. Depression produces all the unexpected or haphazard illness. I know all that, nevertheless, can’t help it now and then. I cannot be knelt down to it, however. Even though it is deadly hard to overcome it, I can’t lose. Avec ma solitude, I’ll stand tall.

Wilful it is, yet I must be happy. When feeling like crying, I’ll cry loudly under my pillow, and then regain smile.

Brit…

English Conversation

English conversation is always my hot potato. It claims immediate reactions, so doesn’t allow time for me to think over proper words and expression fitting to situations. I need time to hit upon answers, to select fit words, and to shape passable sentences, however. Thus I often miss right moments to speak and make steps-delayed articulations.

Having lunch with Wallace yesterday, I felt like being a dummy. I got much to tell him, but didn’t cover my thought with words. Clumsiness at speaking foreign language always snatches words away from my lips and disturbs me in keeping up with my mind. My speaking [in English] was steps-delayed as ever, and most words which I intended to were at a standstill on the tip of my tongue. Wallace used to complete my unspoken words or correct my wrong-structured sentences, in doing so, he usually makes me comfortable, but I become distracted now and then. Of course, he knows I’m sensitive regarding this issue.

I wish conversing can be comfortable like writing. Even in Korean, sometimes I feel easy at writing more than at speaking. ‘Face to face’ or eye contact makes my head stiff, I think, so I frequently feel awkward. Some indescribable anxiety would block my way, and I, and my eyes, get lost. English makes it worse at any time. How and when I can naturally converse in English?

Brit…

Fatigue

I’m suffering from fatigue. Whole my body aches. Sorry to say fatigue, I don’t deserve it. Anyway, what’s the cause of it? Definitely not from hard work, because I didn’t have any hard work! Then, what about ill food, the sushi of yesterday, or a touch of cold, or breathlessly thick yellow-sand of the weekend, or some kind of fretting/anxiety? Did comprehensive exams make me exhausted? Nothing can totally claim it, and my damn chronic headache, too! (The headache has tortured me since my teens, which sometimes had periods of respite, though. When I was eighteen, I absolutely sympathised Nietzsche with his pain, who had suffered from terrible headache. ;D)

The only thing I can tell is that I’m always anguished with various mental/psychological reasons. The pressure of dissertation—several theses, as well-- heavily falls down upon me, and my physical condition, which is weakening day by day, doubtlessly gains a cause, and besides, my emotional unstableness often makes everything tougher. The uncertain future of this getting-older female student, who has no good connection, adds gloomy vision. What for is her struggling? I didn’t re-begin study for specified purposes, but desires have grown as studying more.

I need to be poised and strong mentally as well as physically, and I should not want so much, but it’s not easy to control. Like manic-depressive psychopath, my mind and body is repeatedly vacillating between ups and downs. Once lively and then groggy, and again! Maybe I miss someone to talk with, like Dimitri. I haven’t got in touch with him for nearly a year.

Brit…

The Comprehensive Exams

Today, I took comprehensive exams for finishing my doctorial course, that is, a kind of graduate exams. If we don’t pass the exams, we’re not allowed to present our dissertations. Among seminars we’ve taken in the course, we doctorial graduates choose 4 to be tested. My choice included in a Study of Contemporary British Writers, a Study of Contemporary American Fiction Ⅰ, English Poems in the Sixteenth-century, and a Study of Contemporary American Drama. For last three weeks I’ve been engaged in preparing the exams, and finally they’ve gone. A little nervous, but I’ve managed well as a whole, and I think I’m going to pass them successfully. From now on I can concentrate on my dissertation, sometimes helping my professor in his work when he needs my hand. My professor, who always backs me up, proposed me to edit The Humanities Quarterly, which is one of his projects as the Dean of Humanities College. I’m willing to help him.

Brit…