between the rock and the cold, cold sea

I'm done.

Wow. Freaky that. I feel all light and empty.

It was a good paper. I'm going to watch some bad television - this entertaining nonsense called The Mentalist and sleep until noon tomorrow. Maybe longer.

Fifteen hours to go and this is over. I'm not quite throwing-up nervous. But all in all? This has been more nerve-wracking than trying to hang out of the yardarm of a moving brig. And I say that who has no head for heights.

This hasn't been my favourite month ever. There are a bunch of things I'm still kicking myself over about Thursday - probable factual errors, approaching the wrong questions - and I don't even want to think about tomorrow. It's a so-called 'gobbet' paper: relatively short answers, commenting on images or texts. And I can answer, but if I did better than a 2.2 on Thursday I'll be amazed. So I need a high 2.1 at least. God help me.

Yeah. I might be a little obsessed here. Not very good at studying, but obsessed, nonetheless. And eating paracetamol like little jelly-bean sweets. I've had a headache since the beginning of last week.

I can do this. I'm going to be hollow as all fuck when it's over, but I can do this. And what happens next, I wonder? It's easy to obsess over exams. It helps me not think about all the things that come after. Like falling off the edge of the world.

Anyway. See you on the other side.

Still alive. Just. The stress makes me want to gnaw my own head off.

Climbed tonight. Sent two new-to-me 6Bs, which isn't terrible. Otherwise, I suck. And I really need to stop comfort-eating.

Disjointed = me.

Mile in 10:30, two miles in 22:10.

Not quite victory, but close.

Boring study nonsense continues apace. I've discovered a distraction in the form of a whole bunch of texts on Irish history and mythology at UCC, and I think I'd much rather be reading them than papyrii about Roman taxation in Egypt. But is glas iad na cnoic i bhfad uainn, as my Irish teacher used to say. Far away hills, greener. You know.

"The law of a theocracy is dictated without option to the people, not made by their judges and governments. The individual conscience is free to accept such dictated law, but the state, if its people are to be free, has the burdensome duty of thinking for itself."

- Lord Justice Laws.

---

In other news: two exams down. Two to go.

Yesterday's exam didn't go to badly.

I came home and slept from half five yesterday afternoon until eleven o'clock today. Wow. I almost feel human again. I do feel ready to sit another exam tomorrow.

For all your kind words, thanks.

Anxiety attack. Really, really unpleasant.

I never had this happen before. Not before exams. I can't quite access the certainty that it'll be all right, even if I screw up. God. Brain doesn't work. I need to go sit at the table and try to concentrate on my notes. It'll be all right, right?

Right.

Books 2010: 21-29


21. Dorothy L. Sayers, The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club.

Classic Sayers, classic detective work. The death of General Fentiman - quietly, or so it seems - in his chair at the Bellona Club is complicated by a will, the general's two heirs, and the mysterious Mr Oliver, who disappeares when wanted for questioning. Lord Peter Wimsey is his usual inimitable self. Always entertaining.


22. Ariana Franklin, Relics of the Dead.

Following on from The Death Maze and Mistress of the Art of Death, this is the third medieval murder plot to feature Adelia Aguilar, anatomist and doctor from Salerno, on permanent - and reluctant - loan to Henry II. It's somewhat weaker than both of its predecessors, suffering from an unevenness of structure and pacing, and the central puzzle - whether two skeletons unearthed at Glastonbury monastery are those of Arthur and Guinevere - is insufficiently central. I enjoyed it, but not nearly as much as its predecessors.


23-24. Michelle Sagara, Cast in Fury, Cast in Silence.

Fourth and fifth books, respectively, in the "Chronicles of Elantra" series, starring Private Kaylin Neya of the investigative branch of the law in the city of Elantra. Popcorn. Entertaining and enjoyable, if somewhat forgettable.


25. Anne Bishop, Shalador's Lady.

Compared to the "Black Jewels" trilogy and Tangled Webs, this and the previous book, The Shadow Queen are... pretty tame, actually. Safe. Well, almost.

Nothing drastic happens. It's a friendly little ramble through non-potentially world-changing events with mainly sympathetic characters. And the bad guy hurts puppies.


26. Seanan McGuire, Rosemary and Rue.

Urban fantasy involving no vampires and no werewolves. Instead, it has Faerie. And Toby Daye, a half-human, half-Faerie former private investigator who spent thirteen years as a fish and, understandably, has issues.

I liked it quite a lot. It reminded me in a good way of Tim Pratt's Marla Mason books, except with less havoc. I'll be looking out for the next one.


27. Jim Butcher, Changes.

The latest Harry Dresden novel packs a punch. It starts out hectic and only gets faster, all the way to the rather earth-shattering kaboom of the climax, and the bloody nasty cliffhanger on the last couple of pages.

Any further details would be spoilery. But it has Susan. And Sanya. And Thomas. And Harry's dangerous fairy godmother. And consequences.

It's a very good thriller. But definitely the middle book of a series: I'd hate to pick this up and have to figure out all the backstory from context.


28. David Weber, By Heresies Distressed.

Less technobabble and more politics and character than the last two. Less - or rather, more skillful - infodumping. No hint that Weber has any idea of direction for a series other than an open-ended sprawly thing, but really, I don't expect anything of Weber's to actually end, these days.

It's entertaining, and fun enough if you don't mind not having anything like the prospect of resolution.


29. Wm. Shakespeare, Anthony and Cleopatra.

Pretty poetry. But we all know how it goes. And how it ends.

"Give me my robe, put on my crown: I have immortal longings in me... I am fire and air; my other elements I give to baser life."

---

There were other books today. All Cypriot things. With unwieldy academic bits. It seems that two hours is the limit of my concentration, however: thereafter my brain was mush.

And a gym. I ran 1.2 miles in 11:10, and 2.0 miles in 22:30, and spent two hours there doing energetic things. It feels quite good.

People are weird. Also, tiring.

When did I forget this?

See, this is the first year the college has completely semesterised. Which means this is the first year ever we have had the joyful experience of twelve-week terms (without a midterm break, even). And also the first year ever where we have had less than three weeks between the end of classes and the beginning of the exam period.

I was wondering why I felt edgy and unable to concentrate every time I went into the library. And exhausted. And then I took today off (slept in til after noon by accident, had my grandmother ring the doorbell wanting to take me out to lunch/dinner before I was out of the shower and spent a surprisingly relaxing afternoon in her company even before we met a gorgeous kitten) and realised:

Oh. Everyone else is stressed too. And dealing with that isn't exactly helping my own slightly hysterical introvert to keep things on an even keel.

I think I'm staying home to study tomorrow.

You know, I really need to get around this inability to settle down and study. It might just prove problematic.

---

I have a confession.

For the last three - four? - months, I haven't had the emotional energy to think about writing original fiction. I am sure many people might admit this to be quite normal, with a thesis and final year exams to dwell upon.

On the other hand, I've started writing fanfiction in that span of time. It doesn't require investment. It doesn't matter to me in the same way. It started as a way to keep my hand in, to keep some half-assed memory of how to write sentences and paragraphs that aren't academic nonsense. But I've written something like fifteen thousand words of it in the last month alone. It doesn't require commitment.

Perhaps it says something about me that I find this worrying.

---

Today, I committed the extravagance of purchasing new tshirts. It feels very unusual, since it's almost a year since I bought a tshirt.

(Yes. I wear things until they fall apart and then some.)