Did Stalin just really hate birthdays?

I spent a lot of today doing history revision in an attempt to allay that 'impending panic attack' feeling I get when I think about exams. I didn't work, but I did find this paragraph in my textbook:

'[The] cult of Stalin was at its height at the celebrations held for his seventieth birthday in December 1948. Celebrations, festivals and processions were held throughout the USSR, culminating in a vast balloon floating in the sky about the Kremlin, with Stalin's face projected on it. None of his colleagues took seriously Stalin's statement before these events that he did not want excessive celebrations.'

 They thought he was being modest, but what if he just really hated birthdays? I like to think that conversation went something like this:

Stalin: Now comrades, you know why I've gathered you here, right? We need to talk about my upcoming birthday.
Unnamed Communist 1: We've got some awesome things planned, boss!
Stalin: Like what...?
Unnamed Communist 2: We can't tell you! Then it wouldn't be a surprise!
Stalin: Oh come on guys! You know I hate birthdays!
Unnamed Communist 1: Yeah, yeah.
Stalin: No, seriously: no parties, no singing, no nothing.
Unnamed Communist 2: But...don't you want us to celebrate your glory?
Stalin: No! Just give me a bottle of wine or something. I don't want any fuss.
Unnamed Communist 1: So...no party? What will you do instead?
Stalin: Oh, I don't know. I was thinking of having Molotov over to watch Sex and the City re-runs. He's always free since I put his wife in prison.
Beria: But what about me?!
Stalin: Beria, you know I'm not going to invite you over until you stop perving on my daughter, right? Cut it out. It's creepy.
Beria: Sorry... It's just... I think she's really hot.
Stalin: I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that.
Unnamed Communist 1: So, what you're saying is that you don't want us to do anything for your birthday?
Stalin: That's right.
Unnamed Communist 2: Not even sing the song?
Stalin: DEFINITELY not sing the song.
Unnamed Communist 1: Oh come on, we all know you love the song really!
[All sing, except Stalin] Happy birthday to you!
Stalin: Guys!
[singing] Happy birthdayyyyyy to youuuu!
Stalin: That's it. I'm out of here.
[Stalin storms out. There is an uncomfortable silence]
Unnamed Communist 1: He was totally kidding, right?
Unnamed Communist 2: Yeah, totally.
Unnamed Communist 1: So we're still going to float a giant balloon with his face on it above the Kremlin?
Unnamed Communist 2: Oh yeah! He's going to love it.
Beria: You guys don't think I'm creepy though, do you?
Unnamed Communist 1: Err... Oh! I just remembered! I have to...return...my...library books
[He leaves]
Unnamed Communist 2:  Oh yeah, me too! I've been reading...Lenin...books...
[He leaves too]
Beria: Wait, what?! Guys...! Guys!
[He runs after them]

Wreck this journal

While nosing through the wares of my local Waterstone's today, I caught sight of this book:

Ooh, intriguing! I already kind of wanted it and I didn't even know what it was yet. I wanted it even more once I'd read this:

Think of "Wreck This Journal" as the anarchist's Artist's Way - thebook for those who've always wanted to draw outside the lines but wereafraid to do it. For anyone who's ever wished to, but had troublestarting, keeping, or finishing a journal or sketchbook comes "WreckThis Journal", an illustrated book featuring a subversive collection ofsuggestions, asking readers to muster up their best mistake - andmess-making abilities to fill the pages of the book (and destroy them).Through a series of creatively and quirkily illustrated prompts,acclaimed artist Keri Smith encourages journalers to engage in'destructive' acts - poking holes through pages, adding photos anddefacing them, painting with coffee, colouring outside the lines, andmore - in order to experience the true creative process. With KeriSmith's unique sensibility, readers are introduced to a new way of artand journal making, discovering novel ways to escape the fear of theblank page and fully engage in the creative process.

(Source: Waterstone's website)

Cue much fluttering of hearts and flushing of cheeks. This is definitely a book I need to own and I can't wait to fill it with vaguely artistic spontaneity! The tumblr tag is making me even more impatient - it's full of pictures of other journals and they're all AMAZING.

After a conversation I had with a friend yesterday about how we both love buying notebooks but hate 'spoiling' them with writing, I think this is just what I need to make me a bit irreverent again.

Awesomeness courtesy of the internets:

Why books are bloody brilliant (and an apology)

I meant to finish writing this post weeks ago, but coursework and family drama both got in the way. I wanted to find a suitably contrite sorry poem to communicate my apology and somehow wandered onto a website called Perfect Apology, the kind of website which seems to cater for uninspired businessmen who've upset their mistresses:

We here at Perfect Apology believe that I'm sorry poems should be thought of as any poem that expresses feelings or sentiments about your relationship, the mistake that was made, or even the people involved. 

Hmm. But then I figured I'd be a pretty bad English student if I couldn't even whip up a super short haiku for the occasion, so this is what I came up with:

Nineteen days since last

I forced upon you my blog.

Really sorry guys.

 And with that out of the way, I present to you: 

THE ACTUAL POST

or

WHY BOOKS ARE BLOODY BRILLIANT

A lot of the time, when I tell people that I want to study English, they ask me questions:

'Why?'

'What's the point?'

'Why should people waste their time reading poetry when they can be curing cancer?'

Well, firstly, there's a practical reason: I'm good at English, while I can barely count up my change at the cinema (my friends will back me up here). I'm sure many people are the same.

But there's more to it than personal skill.

Asking why literature is important is basically another way of asking why books are important. I know that not everyone is a great reader, but books are undeniably on a level with cinema, love, theatre, art and Sunday morning cuddles as things which can carry us away from the grey days of reality into a world where everything is just that little bit brighter.

I was always that kid who used the library as a hiding place and who checked out the most books because I read them all night long (this is where my intense love affair with fantasy fiction began. But that's a story for another day). Diving headfirst into a story takes you away from your own problems and makes you see them differently when you touch back down to earth.

You're definitely going to want to see this bigger

There's that great scene in The History Boys between Posner and Hector where this quote comes from:

“The best moments in reading are when you come across something - a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things - which you had thought special and particular to you. And now, here it is, set down by someone else, a person you have never met, someone even who is long dead. And it is as if a hand has come out, and taken yours”

And it's so true! I still remember the first time it happened to me, years ago, while reading a book called Happy Ever After. One of the characters gets bored and starts cleaning under her nails with the corner of a piece of paper. It's such a stupid, tiny detail, but the fact that I remember it all these years later shows how much of an effect it had on that lonely thirteen year old girl who all of a sudden felt like these fictional girls could be as real as she was (And yes, I talk about old me in the third person).

Books can give company and comfort to those who need them, even hundreds of years after the author first put pen to paper, and if that doesn't make them worthy of study then I don't know what does. What's the point of curing cancer if there's nothing to stop your life from being damned miserable?

And don't even get me started on their historical value.