hawkwing_lb: (No dumping dead bodies)
Today I did things. Things like spend three hours in a library without internet, so that I could focus properly without distractions on reading for research. Like go to the gym and get advised on a fitness programme to build my stamina back.

I am so tired. I have very little endurance. It is coming back bit by bit, but right now I am brainless and rather sad. SO I think I will go away and play videogames for a while.
hawkwing_lb: (Default)
Winter isn't coming. It's still far too warm. But the earth continues to rotate around the sun, and daylight hours grow ever shorter -

- and now we're on Winter Time, and it'll be sunset by three minutes past five.

And the sea area forecast from 1200 today has a gale force warning in operation.

Forecast for coasts from Malin Head to Carlingford Lough to Wicklow Head and for the Irish Sea north of Anglesey:

Wind: Southwest to south, force 7 to strong gale force 9, gradually decreasing force 3 or 4 for a time tonight, but increasing west to northwest force 5 or 6 by morning, then westerly, force 6 to gale force 8.

Forecast for coasts from Wicklow Head to Hook Head to Mizen Head and for the Irish Sea south of Anglesey:

Wind: Southwesterly, gale force 8 to strong gale force 9, decreasing southerly or variable force 4 to 6 for a time early tonight but increasing west to northwest force 6 to gale force 8 overnight, with a risk of strong gales or storm force winds for a time mainly in the southeast, becoming westerly force 6 to gale force 8 early tomorrow.


High winds. Yay.

PS: I am still not healthy and terrified I will never be so again, so that's another annoying thing. Although I did go for a three-minute run with slightly less wheezing than yesterday, which is something - but now my kidneys ache again. FEAR. TERROR. HYPOCHONDRIA.
hawkwing_lb: (DA 2 scaring the piss)
Today, for the first time in a very long time, after the fatigue and weird shit antibiotic stuff wore off a little, I felt moved to go outside and try to run.

I wasn't very ambitious. I suspect the distance to be around 500m. It took three minutes, and although it didn't hurt my legs much... well, my wind is shot, let's put it that way. I gasped like a fish. I salivated buckets. My teeth hurt. I'm still wheezing and coughing up bits of mucus, or I was five minutes ago.

Persistence. I will have to try again tomorrow.
hawkwing_lb: (Default)
First I get the evil 'flu. It combines itself with a probable kidney infection. I recover, sort of, after three weeks. Then I go to Octocon, and on the Monday following have everything that is discomfort-like-unto-itch and fatigue and dull ache around the kidney region.

The doctor hears like an itch and decides it must be thrush, I need anti-fungals, not an antibiotic. But let's have a lab test, anyway.

It's a good thing I'm not dying, because it's taken a full week for the test results to come back and they have at last revealed the actual presence of bacteria. I am vindicated in my conviction that this was more than thrush, and greatly relieved to have an explicable reason for my unpleasant-but-consistent kidney-area discomfort and continuing fucking fatigue. Cause! Cause with foreseeable cure: this does not have to represent a new normal, thank god, because I don't think I can stand it for very much longer.




On the other hand, I got paid this weekend. And since I had to go into town anyway to return some library books before university librarians came hunting my liver, I went and bought myself a nice violent-green Polartec microfleece, some socks, a copy of An Litir, and a copy of Josephine Tey's The Man In The Queue.

I may have overspent. Still, that's a problem for later in the month. (I am still waiting on a cheque from Tor.com.)
hawkwing_lb: (Default)
What are the symptoms?

A number of symptoms are associated with the flu. The most obvious ones are headaches, a dry cough, and fever of a temperature in the region of 38 to 40 degrees centigrade. A good indication that one is suffering from flu, not merely a cold, is if the symptoms are of sudden onset, and thereafter over a number of hours one feels increasingly unwell.

Persons suffering from the flu may have a combination of some,or all of the following symptoms:

-Fever (with temperature in the region of 38 to 40 degrees centigrade).
- Runny nose and sore throat, usually accompanied by a dry, tickly cough.
- Aching pains in the muscles and joints.
- Severe headaches.
- Dry cough
- Chest pains.
- Lack of appetite.
- Inability to sleep at night - may feel cold and shivery, or hot and sweaty.
- Vomiting or diarrhoea.

Remedies: Rest, fluids, staying warm, paracetamol.

Symptoms of influenza usually persist for five to ten days. Fatigue and weakness may thereafter persist for three to five weeks. If fever returns after recovery has begun, it is a bad sign, and may indicate bacterial pneumonia.

Why, you might ask, am I talking about this?

Because last night I woke sweating among sheets sodden enough to wring water from them, weak in every fibre and with a sensation as though of having been punched below the floating rib. I'm presently lurching from "uncomfortably hot" to "weakly shivering," and although my throat no longer feels entirely full of ground glass shards, it really doesn't feel good, either. My nose produces snot like it's going out of fashion, and the skin around my nostrils and upper lip is chapped and raw.

Yesterday I had an email from the college service telling me to come in for my cheap 'flu vaccine. Too late for me. Too late - but not for you.

This sucks. Get the vaccine.



Hippocrates, Epidemics 4.23:
"Patients were shivering, nauseous, without appetite, relapsing, haemorrhagic, splenic - mostly painful on the left... Aristophon's daughter was feverish on the third and fifth day. She was dry throughout for the most part, and her belly was upset. It stopped on the thirtieth day without a clear crisis."


History is excellent for showing you how much worse things could be.
hawkwing_lb: (Helen Mirren Tempest)
...got up and left before I was quite ready for it. Consequently I came home earlier than planned, rather than staying for the interestingly-titled evening lecture, and staggered up the road from the train station. In the dark. In the rain. With fallen leaves scuttling on the pavement.

I tried too hard to do too much today, and I'm paying for it. Sigh.
hawkwing_lb: (In Vain)
The sickness is passing off, but I remain limp as wet noodles, weak as a week-old kitten. I managed to walk 500 metres today (in the course of which I was eyeballed by a giant, fat and fearless rat, ah, seaside living) but the last twenty metres were leaning on my mother's arm.

Books 2012: 192


192. T. Aaron Payton, The Constantine Affliction. Night Shade Books, 2012. Ebook.

I gave up waiting for the review copy to arrive (clearly the postal system bears a grudge) and resorted to buying the ebook via Baen. Preliminary thoughts on the first book from Tim Pratt's latest alter ego: Oh god so good - Victorian mad science! Holmesian detective! Intrepid lady reporter! Squint and it looks like steampunk! Frankenstein's monster! A sex-changing disease! Lovecraftian monsters!

It's several different flavours of brilliant, is what it is. Go out and read it, so that by the time my review proper appears at Strange Horizons, you know what I'm making squeeful noises about.
hawkwing_lb: (Default)
1. The Centre for Gender and Womens' Studies (of which I was not heretofore much aware) is having a visiting lecture next Wednesday. "Sons of Belial: contaminated/contaminating Victorian male bodies," by a certain Dr. Hall of the Wellcome Library. With a title like that, how can one not want to go?

2. I am still sick, tho' slightly less so than yesterday: I begin to hold out hopes for a reasonably complete recovery by Monday. (Although, seriously, this has been one hell of a vicious bug, so my hopes are leavened with fear.)

3. I am not impressed with the slowness with which Sony Europe is arranging for my new laptop to be delivered. It's been a fortnight, lads. I expected rather better.

4. The paper that I have to give for the postgrad seminar on Monday continues not to write itself, but I hold out hopes it will not be so bad I have to commit seppuku thereafter.

5. Being sick means falling even further behind where I'd like to be with my thesis. On the other hand, I've managed to catch up on some relatively undemanding nonfiction reading (albeit not for research), so I suppose it hasn't been a complete loss.
hawkwing_lb: (In Vain)
And I have made some progress towards recovery, though I should like to state, for the record? This is a nasty wee dose as far as the common cold goes.

(Symptoms: the usual cold symptoms, plus evil tonsil soreness, swelling, and a brief deficit in the ability to speak above a whisper. I can actually speak aloud today, but not for long, and it still hurts. Whichever of last week's New People What I Met gave this thing to me, I would like curse them roundly.)

Today I began to write the paper due Monday, and translated (as you may have seen) some Plato. But this, I fear, is the summit of my accomplishments. I have very little focus, and what little of it I did have has been expended in the above-mentioned pursuits.

My appetite is back, though. I have eaten all the things and I still feel hungry. Also, menstruation picked a really awkward time to arrive (late!)
hawkwing_lb: (Aveline is not amused)
Books 2012: 187


187. Kelly McCullough, Broken Blade. Ace, 2011.

An entertaining and undemanding adventure starring a former assassin for the now-dead goddess of justice. I will be acquiring the sequels.




Still sick. Today I cannot speak louder than a whisper. I've been bored and unable to concentrate for days now: can I please be well soon? Please?
hawkwing_lb: (Bear CM beyond limit the of their bond a)
The ick advances, taking my defences by storm, laying siege to my outworks. This morning I discovered it has advanced a division to my stomach, which is now all acid and crampy and shit. It hasn't yet managed to entrench itself in my chest, though. So with any luck I'll be able to dislodge its pickets and move on with my own campaigns.

This update brought to you courtesy of reading much about the Thirty Years War last night.




[24ξ]
φησὶ γὰρ δὴ τοὺς νέους ἀδικεῖν με διαφθείροντα. ἐγὼ δέ γε, ὦ ἄνδρες Ἀθηναῖοι, ἀδικεῖν φημι Μέλητον, ὅτι σπουδῇ χαριεντίζεται, ῥᾳδίως εἰς ἀγῶνα καθιστὰς ἀνθρώπους, περὶ πραγμάτων προσποιούμενος σπουδάζειν καὶ κήδεσθαι ὧν οὐδὲν τούτῳ πώποτε ἐμέλησεν: ὡς δὲ τοῦτο οὕτως ἔχει, πειράσομαι καὶ ὑμῖν ἐπιδεῖξαι. καί μοι δεῦρο, ὦ Μέλητε, εἰπέ: ἄλλο τι ἢ

For they say that I do wrong, ruining the young men. But I, O Athenian men, I say Meletos does wrong, because he jests with a serious engagement, bringing men easily to trial, concerning matters which - although he pretends to be serious and to be distressed about - he cares for nothing in this at all: that this is in fact the case, I'll try to show you too. And come here to me, O Meletos, say: [isn't it] another thing than

[24δ] περὶ πλείστου ποιῇ ὅπως ὡς βέλτιστοι οἱ νεώτεροι ἔσονται;

ἔγωγε.

ἴθι δή νυν εἰπὲ τούτοις, τίς αὐτοὺς βελτίους ποιεῖ; δῆλον γὰρ ὅτι οἶσθα, μέλον γέ σοι. τὸν μὲν γὰρ διαφθείροντα ἐξευρών, ὡς φῄς, ἐμέ, εἰσάγεις τουτοισὶ καὶ κατηγορεῖς: τὸν δὲ δὴ βελτίους ποιοῦντα ἴθι εἰπὲ καὶ μήνυσον αὐτοῖς τίς ἐστιν. —ὁρᾷς, ὦ Μέλητε, ὅτι σιγᾷς καὶ οὐκ ἔχεις εἰπεῖν; καίτοι οὐκ αἰσχρόν σοι δοκεῖ εἶναι καὶ ἱκανὸν τεκμήριον οὗ δὴ ἐγὼ λέγω, ὅτι σοι οὐδὲν μεμέληκεν; ἀλλ᾽ εἰπέ, ὠγαθέ, τίς αὐτοὺς ἀμείνους ποιεῖ;

οἱ νόμοι.

you'd make it of the greatest importance, how that the young men will be as excellent as possible?

"Indeed."

Come now, tell to these ones, what makes them better? For it's clear that you know, since it's an object of care to you. For, discovering someone who corrupts - as you say, me - you bring [me] to these ones and you prosecute [me]: now come, tell who makes [them] betters, and disclose to them who he is. - Do you see, O Meletos, that you are silent and you don't have [anything] to say? And does it not seem to you to be infamous, and a sufficient proof of that which indeed I say, that nothing has been an object of care for you? But tell us, good man, what makes them better?

"The laws."
hawkwing_lb: (Default)
Making another run at the next section:




[23δ] καὶ λέγουσιν ὡς Σωκράτης τίς ἐστι μιαρώτατος καὶ διαφθείρει τοὺς νέους: καὶ ἐπειδάν τις αὐτοὺς ἐρωτᾷ ὅτι ποιῶν καὶ ὅτι διδάσκων, ἔχουσι μὲν οὐδὲν εἰπεῖν ἀλλ᾽ ἀγνοοῦσιν, ἵνα δὲ μὴ δοκῶσιν ἀπορεῖν, τὰ κατὰ πάντων τῶν φιλοσοφούντων πρόχειρα ταῦτα λέγουσιν, ὅτι ‘τὰ μετέωρα καὶ τὰ ὑπὸ γῆς’ καὶ ‘θεοὺς μὴ νομίζειν’ καὶ ‘τὸν ἥττω λόγον κρείττω ποιεῖν.’ τὰ γὰρ ἀληθῆ οἴομαι οὐκ ἂν ἐθέλοιεν λέγειν, ὅτι κατάδηλοι γίγνονται προσποιούμενοι μὲν εἰδέναι, εἰδότες δὲ οὐδέν. ἅτε οὖν οἶμαι φιλότιμοι

And they say that a certain Socrates is most polluted and that he is ruining the young men: and whenever someone asks them by doing what and by teaching what, they have nothing to say but they're ignorant, and so in order not to appear to be at a loss, they say these things convenient according to all those who teach philosophy, like "the heavenly things and the things under the earth" and "not to acknowledge the gods" and "to make the worse argument the better." For I think they may not be willing to speak the truth, that plainly those who lay claim to know things, are knowing nothing. So, seeing that I know they love honour

[23ε] ὄντες καὶ σφοδροὶ καὶ πολλοί, καὶ συντεταμένως καὶ πιθανῶς λέγοντες περὶ ἐμοῦ, ἐμπεπλήκασιν ὑμῶν τὰ ὦτα καὶ πάλαι καὶ σφοδρῶς διαβάλλοντες. ἐκ τούτων καὶ Μέλητός μοι ἐπέθετο καὶ Ἄνυτος καὶ Λύκων, Μέλητος μὲν ὑπὲρ τῶν ποιητῶν ἀχθόμενος, Ἄνυτος δὲ ὑπὲρ τῶν δημιουργῶν καὶ

excessively and greatly, and [I know] they speak vigorously and persuasively concerning me, your ears have been satisfied of old, [I know] they also slander me violently. And from this Meletos laid [the charge against] me, and Anytos, and Lykon, Meletos being grieved on behalf of the poets, and Anytos on behalf of the artisans and

[24α] τῶν πολιτικῶν, Λύκων δὲ ὑπὲρ τῶν ῥητόρων:

the politicians, and Lykon on behalf of the orators.




I'm stopping again for now, to wallow some more in self-pity and primeval slime. Maybe I will watch bad movies, or something. Or perhaps I will come back and bang my head against Greek some more, when there in food in the house and in my stomach.
hawkwing_lb: (DA2 isabela facepalm)
Well, the snot has turned into oh-yes-I-really-am-sick, and it took all I had this morning to go to the pharmacy and acquire some pseudoephedrine (with the parent: I could not have walked it, so the lift was much appreciated), and to put on some banana bread, so that the soggy blackening bananas did not go to waste.

Also to put laundry on and sort out my sock drawer, so now that I consider it, I suppose I have done rather a lot for a woman colonised by Primordial Slime.

Naturally, my brain is incapable of braining. So I suppose I'm going to make a mess of the Plato that I have for translations this weekend. More of a mess than usual, I mean.

Still. Onwards!
hawkwing_lb: (In Vain)
I am still unpleasantly sick. The worst now, however, is the fact that the skin of my nose and upper lip is chapped and abraded from the constant nose-blowing of the last two days. Since I forgot to get either Vaseline or chapstick in my run to the chemist earlier this morning (and am extraordinary reluctant to go out again today), I am raiding my small knowledge of ancient medicine what is alleged to work, and applying a mixture of honey and oil to decrease the dry flakiness.

This is doubtless more information than you ever wanted concerning my nose.

In other news: I watched Immortals today. Plot aside, it is a beautiful film, visually striking, very stylish. Well-acted, with dialogue that did not often descend to cliché. The plot is utter nonsense, although the progression thereof actually manages a tense arc. It's worth watching for the pretty, though.

I also watched Underworld for the first time in years, and remembered why I loved it: it is tailor-made to hit a great many of my narrative kinks in the shortest possible space of time.

And since I'm out of things to say, go read Jim Hines being smart and funny again.
hawkwing_lb: (DA 2 scaring the piss)
In case you're wondering, I'm still sniffling, Whitechapel is a decent little BBC miniseries, and my ears itch. Also, my shorts have ripped through the crotch. Life, so much fun.

Tomorrow I will stagger to the chemist and see if anti-histamines stop the evil sniffly itching any better than cold meds. In the meantime, I will be here, writing and dozing by turns.

Sick

Apr. 21st, 2012 02:33 pm
hawkwing_lb: (Default)
I am sniffling and sneezing and attempting restrain the urge to stick a fork down my throat and scratch and scratch and scratch. Really fucking annoying, and it's the weekend, so the pack of Nurofen Cold&Flu I got yesterday has to last me until Monday.*

(Aaaargh.)

In lieu of content here, I came across this lengthy analysis of Robert E. Howard's Conan stories. (Via.) It is a smart and entertaining interrogation of Howard's themes.

And now I will return to huddling in dull and inchoate misery.


*Update: Very very kind AD volunteered to see to my ibruprofen and pseudephedrine needs from the one open pharmacy in the district. So I can just sit here and die peacefully.
hawkwing_lb: (DA2 isabela facepalm)
Books 2012: 58


58. Mary Gentle, The Black Opera. NightShade Books, US, May 2012; Gollancz, UK, August 2012.

Read for review for Ideomancer. This? This is one hell of a brilliant book. Go right now and order a copy to read. I loved it to bits.




I'm not feeling so good today. Nauseous and sleepy. I do not think it fair.




Editorial over at Tor.com decided not to publish my review of Royal Street, so here it is below the cut:

It didn't do much for me )




I had something else to say, but I have forgotten it. Now I must go hang up laundry and sleep more.
hawkwing_lb: (Bear CM beyond limit the of their bond a)
Almost definitely TMI:

Today is apparently my day to be stricken down with the gripe. (Not la grippe, but it's dysenteric cousin. Although there's no blood in the stool... but it's been kinda hard to tell.)

It is such fun to be weak and headachey with dehydration, and mildly stomach-cramped, and shivery, and aching in unrelated muscles, and ground down under an exhaustion that fills my head and limbs with gritty sand. And utterly unable to eat anything other than plain white bread and sugared water, for fear of the consequences. Oh, and unable to concentrate enough even to watch TV: I'm half-typing this with my eyes closed, because it's that much easier only to concentrate on one thing at a time.

Fortunately, my body believes in the direction of down very firmly, which means that the worst of up has been one moment of dry heaves. But shitting water is fucking disturbing. But there is Imodium, which is apparently an opioid receptor agonist. I don't know how that works, but it seems to be working.

I had plans for today. God help me, I hate being sick.
hawkwing_lb: (Default)
So I have a brain again. Just in time, since tomorrow I have to get up much earlier than I'd prefer and toddle off to a conference in a different country.

Northern Ireland. Contiguous, but definitely different.

I crawled out of bed today to make a presentation. Which is now done. And now I have to not freak out about getting up in front of other people with a paper which still has not got any kind of brilliant conclusion, and speak.

(At least I can speak now. Monday, not so much.)

I have a week's worth of Greek language to catch up on, among other things. But right now, I think I am going home and taking a nap.

I truly despise colds. And this one, while not in any way life-threatening, sucked away every newton of energy. Dammit.

hawkwing_lb: (Default)
So I have a brain again. Just in time, since tomorrow I have to get up much earlier than I'd prefer and toddle off to a conference in a different country.

Northern Ireland. Contiguous, but definitely different.

I crawled out of bed today to make a presentation. Which is now done. And now I have to not freak out about getting up in front of other people with a paper which still has not got any kind of brilliant conclusion, and speak.

(At least I can speak now. Monday, not so much.)

I have a week's worth of Greek language to catch up on, among other things. But right now, I think I am going home and taking a nap.

I truly despise colds. And this one, while not in any way life-threatening, sucked away every newton of energy. Dammit.

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