between the rock and the cold, cold sea

Dear self:

No, you may not duck out of climbing because you are tired and introverted and want to go home to cry in your beer (if you had beer). This is how we lost all our upper body endurance, remember?

No, not even if you promise to go to karate tomorrow and climb next week. No. No. Did you hear me say No yet?

Yes, I know we have our period. We've had our period for days. This is not a good excuse. Maybe it's a reason to be tired...

...Okay, I know we did massive cardio on Monday and Tuesday and yesterday. I know.

Okay, guess what? Fuck it, you're right. If you're dreading the thought, go home and sleep.

Not really with the love,

Me.

Routine has begun again. I'm not very good about sitting down to work on the damn thesis, but so far I'm making a good show of Greek, exercise, and getting caught up on the posts which I'm supposed to do for Tor.com.

Last night was my first night back at jujutsu since before I went away. Our Mad German instructor was there, and thus, much exhaustion was accomplished. On the other hand, I can survive a 1.5 mile run (14:25 minutes: I need to try to get it down under 14:00) and a 5 mile cycle followed by a two-hour jujutsu session, so I'm pretty sure my cardio fitness isn't too badly off.

Today, of course, I ache in a hard line across the back of my neck and shoulders, and at the small of my back. Such is the price of amusement. Unfortunately - or fortunately - I can no longer attend the grappling class due to a timetable change, so I suppose I need to go back to karate instead.

Right. Onwards.

My funding application has been turned down.

I knew it was going to happen - it was long odds to start with - but I couldn't stop myself hoping. Now that hope is gone, I should start dealing with the reality of having Zero Income next year. (The government is still good for my fees, at least until next year, I hope.)

But first, I think I'm going to go scream in frustration and cry for a bit.

Longest day of the year!

I celebrated by going back to bed with a hot water bottle. I sincerely wish to complain to The Management about the design flaw in the human body (subtype: female), to whit, the fact that it insists upon leaking vital fluids once a month. Not very good planning there, what, chaps?

(The Management: *resounding silence*)

So, since I'm not getting anything done anyway, I guess I'm surrendering to the sloth and declaring today a Rest Day.

I've been going through my wishlist at The Book Depository.co.uk, which I use as a handy little collector of Interesting Titles. (And can I just say, free shipping? Cheap books? It's enough to seduce a girl from the path of righteousness and supporting brick and mortar bookshops.)

Ah, covetousness. I suffer from it - desiring to possess books on everything from that which I am supposed to study, Classical Antiquity, to ancient China, to medieval Islam, to early modern Europe, to everywhere in the age of (European) travel and exploration.

Also, how come I haven't read more stuff by Anthony Burgess? I should really read more than just A Dead Man in Deptford.

(The more I read, the more I want. No, self, you may not have all the books. You don't have any money.)

Here comes the rain again, spattering on the pavements, damp and grey. Maybe I'll go watch something lighthearted and attempt to overcome the resounding greyness of sky and rain and road as seen through my spattered window.

I have achieved a second draft of my conference paper, "The Experience of Entrance at the Pergamene and Koan Asklepieia." Hopefully this is a near-final draft.

Maybe now I will feel less useless and depressed. Next thing to do, make powerpoint with sanctuary plans.

There are four weeks left during which I must take classes. It will be a great relief when I can sit down to do research without having to keep up with Greek homework also. Perhaps then I will be able to write again.

Interestingly - and in things which give me hope - I wrote a whole paragraph of fiction today.

( Read more... )

Not that it'll go anywhere. But, hell. Writing that in half an hour made me feel a hell of a lot better than I have in at least a week or so.

Damn the world for being so big and inimical anyway.

I am virtuous. I have written 800 words of research paper within three hours.

(And spent the last twenty minutes clarifying a book order. This edition, not that edition. Makes difference! Really! sez I. Gah, sez I, and wanders off muttering darkly.)

The painful part starts tomorrow, of course. With the fiddly bits and the turning of [square brackets] into real accurate descriptions, rather than waffling about habitus and the grammar of godly perception.

Now I get to fumble my way through two different sorts of Greek (ancient and modern) and pretend that I don't want to go home and write fictions. Or sleep.

It's Courage and Once more unto the breach, I suppose...

Close up the walls with
those English dead -
and pretend
it makes a difference.

I am so, so tempted to skip jujutsu and just go home to bed.

Stubbornness is the way forward. And possibly a chocolate bar, since lunch is over four hours ago and real food more than five hours away, if I go to get beaten up. (You would think a person could keep going on one meal. But not, it seems, if that person is me.)

Necessities keep piling up, and I keep finding more outcomes to worry about. I shall endeavour to remain obstinate, and attempt to rediscover my optimism.

Either that, or vent my rage and spite on the election posters.

As I remember, February is my especial month for falling off the wagon.

Sad, really. But now that I've self-pitied my way through an unofficial four-day weekend, I appear to be capable of recognising that once more.

Time to get back on the horse. So to speak. Tomorrow I have work to do, and a judo session to attend, and a book to return to the library, and a set of emails to write. And a bunch of stuff to figure out with regard to the paper I need to write.

You know something? I really, really wish I had the emotional energy to write fictions, still. But hey. One day at a time, right?

Thanks to jujutsu last night, today I'm walking - and thinking - rather more like a slow zombie than I'd prefer.

The prices we pay to have fun.

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I have a paper to write for a conference - my first. With any luck, it will be a coherent treatment of entrances and the creation of ritual bodies at the Asklepieia Pergamon and Kos. We'll see. I have a lot more reading ahead of me.

---

I avoided phenomenology when I was a theology student. So why is it now, as a classics postgrad, it turns out to be actually rather necessary?

κακοφραδής εστιν ὁ θεός, is all I have to say.

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It turns out that, contrary to my projections, I can't afford to get myself a copy of The White City this month. Hopefully there will still be copies around in April. If not, well, that's how the dice falls, I suppose.

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And now I must go stare at my Greek translations with the utmost reluctance. Oh, Neaira. Apollodoros really didn't like your boyfriend, did he?

Another day, another missed alarm clock.

I really don't know how to do this right. Or at all.