between the rock and the cold, cold sea

A weekend of aimless wandering results in frantic activity. Today I knocked three to-do items off my list. Only two pieces of actual work left before the exam panicking can begin in earnest.

I should probably not entirely make up my response to the essay question on the "Yehoshua Controversy." I am, however, incredibly tempted to indulge in pure waffle.

(That would be bad.)

I have some thinky thoughts on Paul and Romans that I came up with while writing The Essay That Would Not Die. If I work out what I'm actually thinking, I'm sure I'll scribble it down here, sometime.

(Mainly along the lines of, "Wow, is that guy worried about death.")

Now I think I should perhaps go catch a train and fall over some more.

Books 2009: 22-28


22. Elizabeth Bear, Seven for a Secret.

A short book, in the New Amsterdam universe. It's 1938, in a London under a Prussian force of occupation, and many interesting, beautiful, and bittersweet things transpire.

Short, and sweet, and I could have kept reading it forever.


23. Ilona Andrews, Magic Strikes.

The third Kate Daniels novel. Fun, and smarter than the general run of urban fantasy.


24. Rachel Caine, Undone.

A new book in the Weather Wardens universe. Fun, but not smarter than the general run of urban fantasy. Or, rather, it didn't hit my kinks the way the Andrews book did.


25-28. Tamora Pierce, The Circle of Magic, comprising Sandry's Book, Tris's Book, Daja's Book, and Briar's Book.

My second time reading through this young adult series. I admit, I would've loved to have found these when I was ten or twelve, but even still, I love them. Four children/teenagers with different but interconnected magical talents help stop disasters and learn about themselves and the world. Pierce has a real gift for characterisation.

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So now I need to front up and start doing work on this essay. "Paul and Israel: Interpreting Romans 11". I hate theology. This is me, making disgusted faces, because no one will ever say anything straight.

Not dead yet.

Overclimbed. New 6As, Monday and Tuesday: I am a competent enough 6A climber, now, even if 6A+s remain mostly beyond me, and I sometimes need a rest. I can also lead 5s with confidence, as long as I get to rest up in the middle: I had a fabulous time leading my lovely grey 5, with the straightforwardly overhung finish, yesterday - I felt really strong and confident, even though it was the last climb of the night. And even though I had to rest three or four times. Eight routes last night, even if I fell off halfway up the 6A+, the 6B, and the 6C I tried. Well, not quite halfway up.

My arms, though. I am still getting twingey pains in the forearm muscles, and this is after the application of Deep Freeze and one paracetamol last night and two just now. Owie. No more climbing for me til Friday at least.

Overessayed. I am turning in an essay tomorrow that is supposed to be less than 3.5K words and turned out to be 4.3K, and which I thought I had finished last week, but no. Akshual Analysis needed to be added. On Friday and Saturday I must interpret the theology of Romans 11 for an essay which I had intended to have finished last week.

P-Con on Saturday was an utter bust, with the exception of meeting desperance very briefly and embarrassing myself in front of Charles Stross, who was an utter gentleman - as he was the last three times I brought him books to sign - and kindly refrained from making fun of me. I have nothing against persons older than me, even if that's by decades. But when they come across as mostly bitter and, well, narrow, I sort of have the feeling I'm in the wrong crowd.

Maybe I was just tired.

Between Monday and today and the siren song of the bookshop, I have blown my next two months' reading budget. I can't help it. They twitch their little covers at me and I lose all self-control.

(The US editions of Tamora Pierce's "Circle of Magic" books, since the UK ones are out of print, and a couple - three - others. No self-control. None.)

Books 2009: 21


21. Carrie Vaughn, Kitty Raises Hell.

Light, entertaining fun, with werewolves and demons and paranormal investigators. The sixth Kitty book, and very fun.

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Today I achieved a draft of my essay on Roman frontier structural archaeology. All that remains is to add five lines on Britain, and I am completely done with it. There is quiet rejoicing chez-moi, I assure you.

The next project is the essay on the theology of Paul's "Romans 11," about which I fear to speak. Well, I've faced worse. Not much worse, it's true, but still. A little nasty shouty angry saint like Paul isn't going to beat me.

Running: 7.5mph for 5 minutes, and onwards with walking and running for another 15 minutes. Mostly walking. My triumph climbing, however, is mighty and great. I didn't think it'd be such a good night: I started out traversing and feeling tired, but then Andy and Alex arrived. I tried my hand at another awful orange 6c, and last night's horrible reachy 6b, without getting very far. Alex did show me how to use a gri-gri, so that was something new.

When Alan and an enthusiastic Swedish Erasmus student arrived, though, things kicked off. I went up the grey 5, and then! A blue 6b!

Oh, with many stops, and I didn't actually finish the last move: I touched the last hold with my fingertips for half a second and fell off. But, still. Nearly all the way up a 6b! Even if it is an easy one.

After that, I fell off last night's yellow 6b without even matching last night's achievement of halfway, and then did the two slab 5s and the neon 3 back-to-back. I also led most of the way up the grey 5, but I stopped before the last two clips, because I really didn't feel like taking a fall at that point, and while I could probably have managed not to fall? I didn't want to chance it.

Falling is no fun when you're sleepy.

I'm stiff like a really stiff thing now, though. And I still need to straighten the furniture and clear off a table, because tomorrow a friend's coming out to watch Criminal Minds - lots and lots of Criminal Minds - and I still need somewhere to put the laptop.

700 more words on structural archaeology. I am seduced by the massive Proceedings of the nth Congress of Roman Frontier Studies, all big and red or blue and shiny. Alas.

Running: I managed a mile in 9 minutes 20 seconds. Excellent progress there. Climbing...

Well. I sent, clean, for the second time ever, my red 6A+ wall, which I like so much. I improved on the horrors that are the reachy blue 6B, and the pinchy yellow 6B, and felt very pleased with myself for getting a few metres up the godawful orange 6C and the godawful white 6C. I also sent the neon 3, and the grey 5. That was a workout, I tell you - even though I was, as I said to Lad, the nice Czech postdoc, cheating like an Olympic medallist on the blue and the white.

(I'd spent the first hour traversing. Taking it easy and traversing, but that's still work.)

One day, I swear, I'm going to find out how to kill the devil-voice in my head that says, Not good enough!

Today, I managed another 500 words on the structural archaeology of the Roman frontier. There's another two, maybe three days of work left on it, depending on how well I do tomorrow. I managed some work on the other report as well, although less than I would've liked. Then, being too sleepy to get anything else done, I came home and slept for two hours.

I've just been for a run, about a mile. I made good time, and didn't feel like death at the end of it: I might be getting back towards the kind of fitness I'd like to have, just a little. This is good news, I think. Progress.

Alas, though. Now I must be boring and virtuous and translate some Greek verses. Do not want. While the revelation according to John is interesting, and the Greek language is interesting, it's not simple. Straightforward, but not simple.

The glamourous life of your average hungry student continues to be excessively glamourous.

So when I recovered from my end-of-term collapse (I spent the first week of term break sleeping), it was after Patrick's day. My life since then has involved i) lots of laundry; ii) spending a lot of time in the library reading up on the theology of the letter of Paul to the Romans and the structural archaeology of the Roman frontier; iii) sunshine (it's a miracle); iv)running and climbing; and v) a social life.

I met rysmiel, who appears to be a marvellous interesting generous person, on Thursday. On Friday, after another morning nose-down in Proceedings of the nth Congress of Roman Frontier Studies, I met a friend who'd promised to introduce me to tabletop roleplaying. Which happened, and was then followed by a night and morning of DVDs.

For the next week, my to-do list involves:

1. Theology of Romans 11: write essay of 2.5K words
2. Archaeology of the Roman frontier: essay of 3.5K words
3. Seventeenth century Portuguese Jews and Amsterdam: 1K words
4. Translate two-three chapters of John's Revelation
5. Revise Greek vocabulary
6. Stop falling off easy routes at the wall - there was a new route up, a 3, a 4 at the very outside, and I flashed it? But I had a really hard time getting up my favourite 5s and 6As. My week of sleeping lost me a lot of stamina.
7. Social life with a friend and Criminal Minds DVDs on Thursday.
8. Possibly try to attend P-Con on Saturday. Not sure if I can afford that, though.

This is a greatly cut-down to-do list from the one I started this break with. Mostly because I have not been Getting Stuff Done (there was sleeping! And lying around not-quite-sleeping!), and I need to accept that. Although this last week, I have been making progress. Which is good.

Onwards, to hopefully better progress.

My two newest repeat-to-death songs: Cloud Cult, "When Water Comes To Life", (thanks, tanaise) and The Gaslight Anthem, "Blue Jeans & White T-shirts".

Today, I was in college from 1100 until 2030. Four hours of classes, a meeting, and essay. The essay is still Not Done, but the sucker is dying tomorrow, if I have to skip climbing to do it.

I also have a new blue hooded jumper (archaeology class bought in to apparel) with a college crest and a legend reading (below a big black hoplite helmet) "My Career is in Ruins".

Bad puns are us. :)

So sleepy now.

Triumph! First draft essay done, at 2,300 words. That's a weight off my mind. Only two pieces of work to do in the next two weeks, now.

Climbing: did three routes I've done before, and did them if not straight, at least with only one pause apiece. Attempted three routes I've tried before: failed of them, though not utterly pathetically. Belayed a few new climbers and began learning how to lead climb. Lead climbing is hard. I look forward to doing more of it, and getting better. I haven't lost all my conditioning in two weeks, at least: I figure another week and a half, and I'll be back where I was before.

Did not start running again today. That will probably take place, if not tomorrow, at least next week. Tomorrow I am going to a symposium-thing in the Royal Irish Academy - a couple of lectures on Greco-Roman warfare, in the afternoon. (Technically, this symposium started tonight, but I wasn't going to skip climbing in favour of a lecture, and the morning ones tomorrow do not excite my interest sufficiently for me to crawl out of bed at the break of dawn. Does this make me weak? I suspect it does.)

Saturday, I think, I will take the day to myself and read All the Windwracked Stars.

...This is terribly banal. I wonder if I'll eventually stop writing about minutiae here. It'll be interesting to see if I still feel this way when I'm more awake and less hungry.

600 words of essay written today. In six hours.

That makes 900 words total in the last five days, not counting notes. Or 30% of the final product.

How freaking pathetic.

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Tomorrow I get to go to college and print stuff off, and see if the gym is open for bouldering.

And then I get to try not to spaz out about travelling and missing classes. It doesn't help that the parent seems to think that by travelling alone to not one but two foreign cities, I'm setting myself up to get a)lost, b)stranded, c)abducted, d)murdered, e)all of the above.

If I can't have globe-spanning adventures at the age of twenty-two, when can I have them? Sigh.

Oh, well. I comfort myself with the knowledge that the parent at least cares.

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Now I must commence with the obsessive making of lists. No, I don't get nervous about travelling. Nuh-uh. Not at all. Not in the least.

...Why are you looking at me like that?