Questions of science, science and progress.

I got my third year results yesterday. 74 to the nearest whole, that's a First. It was what I had hoped for, and I think it's what I deserved, given how hard I worked, and how much I had to put aside and overcome to get there.

One more step to ascend. One more year, then I'll have done it. I'll have a Masters degree. Master of Maths. Sounds kinda awesome. (Not quite as good as Master of Physics, which is what my boyfriend now is. YES!)

I got an email out of the blue, from a familiar source. I used to be a part of Great Writing, a website where I would put all my scribbles and musings in poem-shaped parcels, and let the internet decide if they liked it.

I got a comment today, from one of the last poems I wrote. I wrote it right at the beginning of first year. I went along to the writing society's gathering, and they told us to write a poem, and I wrote something that wasn't what they were expecting. I wasn't sure if it was any good, so I put it up, and I got some good comments.

And today, I got another one. Same vein as the others, liking the same stuff.

I ended up looking through the whole back catalogue of work I've done.

It's good. Objectively, I just think it's quite good.

I need to start writing again. For my music, for my poetry, even my prose. It's not something I'd want to make a career of; I'd hate taking something creative I love and making it my paid work, and the fear of writer's block is enough to make me want to pick something I can consistently deliver, you know?

I love how when I'm just going about my life and then all the sudden a phrase pops into my head, followed in quick succession by a whole stanza, then nearly a whole poem. It's how I write; it's as if I'd been thinking about it, letting the poem gestate for weeks, and then I give birth, and there it is. Pretty much ready. Except you don't get really fat-looking if you're working on a poem subconsciously. (At least, I don't think you do.)

So, what's the summary?

I am a good mathematician, objectively. I was a good poet, objectively. I think I can be a good writer again. (It'll probably be easier to pick up chicks with good writing than with good maths, anyway.)