Just Call Me Procrastination ( 'Cause That's My Middle Name)

So it's the very first working day of the year, loathed by so many like no other day. Yet, I got to be lucky again, since I am still at home in Miskolc and will remain until the 11th. It's exam period at the uni, but I don't have any exams this semester, so I have nothing else to do than concentrate on my thesis during January. Although I am writing my thesis on Sylvia Plath, whom I have been truly and deeply admiring for years, I am somewhat having  difficulties with not only writing but even with getting started on doing research... I have been procrastinating for weeks, but yesterday I finally got down to business and started reading SP's Journal. Although it's about 800 pages long, I must get through it in the next 4-5 days, because I must read a few reference books/essays on her as well before returning to Budapest, especially since I have/should have the bibliography and a raw summary ready and presentable to my thesis adviser by mid January... 

So much to do in so little time, yet, I could not resist wandering back to the library in the afternoon and getting more books by Polcz Alaine. I finished Asszony a fronton (One Woman in the War) a couple of days ago which is an autobiographical novel of hers: she writes about her experiencies in World War II: how she got married right before the war broke out, her marriage, her escape, being a refugee, working at war hospitals, nursing wounded soldiers, how the Soviet soldiers treated (and raped) her. The whole book is utterly unsettling, although there's absolutely no whining in it, just the bare, ugly, and painful truth. The power of the book lies in Polcz's flawless style: how she doesn't judge anybody, neither does she blame, simply states what she saw, felt, and went through during those horrible times. The moment I finished Asszony a fronton, I decided that I would read other works of Polcz Alaine, anything and everything I could get from the local library. So today I went, and got two more novels of hers, and I can hardly wait to get started on them. I know I should be reading SP, and I am and enjoying it; yet, I have an unresistable  hunger in me for Hungarian literature and reading  in Hungarian. So I guess, I will put myself out of misery, and read what I really want tonight, instead of yearning... But from tomorrow morning, it's Sylvia-time again!