Three things:

1. Remembrance Day.

2. Possible tomb of Sesheshet.

3. And of less global significance, but vitally important to me: it appears my essay-engine isn't entirely broken, since I made a decent quarter of my diasporas essay today*. It's apparently only AWOL when I try to write coherently about the Roman emperor as a military autocrat in the 1st century CE.

Oh, well. They're both due on the same day, so at least this isn't procrastination.

*It's amazing what you can say about the Pentateuch. No, really. Promise and deferment, landlessness and land as inheritance - I'm running with those themes all the way, which is... pretty decent, actually.

Many things have happened so far this year. (And when did it get to be February 11 already?) Some good, some not so, some so-so.

When I was looking the other way, I somehow built up a massive pile of books that should probably be mentioned here.

Books 2008: 1-16

1. Stargate SG-1: Relativity, James Swallow.

Train reading. Utterly meh.

2. Star Wars: Path of Destruction, Drew Karpyshyn.

Also train reading. Also meh, and reads too much like the KOTOR computer game.

3. Star Wars: Dark Lord: The Rise of Darth Vader, James Luceno.

Are we seeing a pattern to my train reading yet? This one, again, meh, but with moments of actual interest.

4. Star Wars: Republic Commando: True Colours, Karen Traviss.

Decidedly not meh. In all three of her Star Wars: Republic Commando novels so far, Traviss has taken the concept of a clone army, bred for fighting, and the Jedi order, trained for peace, and gone in some very interesting directions with the intersection of the two.

5. Saint City Sinners, Lilith Saintcrow.

After the last book, The Devil's Right Hand, I thought more in this vein could only irritate me. But surprisingly, this series is turning in rather different directions than the paranormal romance it's been marketed as. And interesting ones, too.

6-7. Once Bitten, Twice Shy, and Another One Bites The Dust, Jennifer Rardin.

The CIA. Vampires. Demons. Assassins. Fast-paced popcorn books, perfect for commuter reading.

8. Crystal Rain, Tobias Bucknell.

Slow to start - I think it took me six-plus months to get past the first sixy pages - but once this odd little science fiction novel warms up, it really gets going. Aztecs! Aliens! Weirdness!

9. 1824: The Arkansas War, Eric Flint.

Flint does what he's good at in this one. Solid, satisfying alternate history.

10. Tripping to Somewhere, Kristopher Reisz.

I look at this book and see many reasons to like it more than I do. Perhaps it's the characterisation, or the tone, or the fact that I never really sympathised with the idea of wanting to run away to join the circus. For all that, it's a good book, though.

11. Stardust, Neil Gaiman.

Coming to this after having seen the film was... odd, to say the least. It's an odd little beautiful fairy tale, at once almost epic and extremely personal in its scope. Interesting, and lovely.

I do prefer the visual extravagance of the film, though.

12. Gifts, Ursula LeGuin.

I'm ashamed to say this is the first LeGuin book I've ever read. It's interesting, and beautiful, and touching, and poignant. And it has some of the most spare, lucid, appropriate turns of phrase I've ever come across.

Brilliant.

13. Grave Surprise, Charlaine Harris.

Interesting enough, I suppose. I do not enthuse, but I'll probably read the next one at some point.

14. Captain's Fury, Jim Butcher.

Hello, epic fantasy for the CGI generation. Plenty of battles, chases, and love interests. Popcorn, but a fun read nonetheless.

15. The Merchants' War, Charles Stross.

Extremely interesting fourth volume of the Merchant Princes series, the science fiction series that at volume one looks like fantasy. Another ratchet-up-the-tension to the cliffhanger ending installment. Well worth reading.

16. Hell Hath No Fury, David Weber and Linda Evans.

Someone please tell me why I am still buying books with the name 'Weber' on the cover? I mean, okay, this isn't dreadful, not to the extent of Off Armaggeddon Reef... but only because it doesn't really go very far.

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And that's that.

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Since my plan to do tall ships sail training last year didn't work out, I've applied again this year. If everything works out for me, come September, I'm going to be the brokest lucky student (or luckiest broke student) in the county.

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Not writing very much at all. Other things have current priority. Alas.

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In other news, I have a fitness plan that entails early starts, three essays to get done in the next four weeks, and some scholarship studying to do, so I shouldn't be very much present in this space until, oh, summer. At least.

Tomorrow, I let the vampires draw more blood, so they can tell me what kind of supplements I need to take. Hopefully that'll get this dragging lethargy sorted so I can go back to our preferred hectic schedule of crazy work and crazy exercise and the occasional crazy diversion in hectic fun.

As soon as I get atop this next essay and presentation, there should be a book post. I've read something on the order of sixteen or seventeen books since the beginning of the year, but I haven't had time to sit down and think about them, much less talk.

Oh. The novel's at c10K words, and starting to scare me all over again.

Things improve. The Apocalyptic, Magic and Mysticism in 2nd Temple Judaism lecturer is being understanding and giving us our exam questions straigt out in advance: my Greek lecturer has been extraordinarily nice about my medical absences, and all goes somewhat surprisingly well so far in my other courses. Good things, good people.

Now all I need is a good vitamin supplement. :)

No writing today. A whole whack of lectures and a Greek test tomorrow have that effect.

(But! I have my climbing kit! And it is shiny!)

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I counted my in-shelf. Not including incompletely-read course books, I have fifty-one (51) unread non-fiction books, fifty-nine (59) unread works of fiction, and - counting an International Student Edition of Shakespeare and a Wordsworth Editions Complete Marlowe as one book each - twenty-four (24) unread or incompletely read modern and ancient literary classics.

(The post-1000 AD version reads: Mallory's Arthur, Pride and Prejudice, Moby Dick, Huckleberry Finn, Thus Spake Zarathustra and The Twilight of the Idols, The Three Musketeers, the Shakespeare, and the Marlowe.)

(One day I will list what's on my shelf. Wide range of interests, that's me. Though I really ought to keep an eye out for some good cheap books on psychology, physics, and emergency medicine.)

This? Is what's left over from what happened to me when I had income. Every time I saw an interesting non-fiction book in the sales, I picked it up. Bargain basements are evil places.

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And I have no brain now. So I'm just going to putter about on the internet for a little while, and then go fall over.

No writing today, and no essay, either.

But, then, I knew that going in.

Mission:Impossible season two is, if anything, more fantastically, dreadfully entertaining than season one. (Nazis! Communists! Made-up Eastern European/South American countries! Barbara Bain and Martin Landau and Greg Morris!)

I have shoved CDs into racks, and books onto shelves, rendering this place slightly less cluttered than heretofore. I suspect I need more shelves, though. The problem? Where do I put the shelves?

There really isn't that much space left.

Tomorrow, early start, late homecoming. Not my very favourite kind of day.

Tired now.

Interesting facts: the Greek word for competition is the root of the word agony.

Criminal Minds fails to disappoint. A little heavy-handed on the dialogue, but "Open Season" is maybe the best episode since "Distress". Lots of Prentiss and JJ = a thing of wonder.

(Do not ask me how I acquire my CM fix. It is a secret.)

(Albeit an open one, but still.)

Today was a day for lying in the garden. I have sunburn and vague guilt. I should really be doing productive shit instead. Or at least swimming. Swimming would have been good.

Lately I've been getting a lot obscure jokes and references. This would be worrying, except I think it is perhaps because I've finally started socialising with freaks like me. (I have friends who quote Firefly over the dinner table, among other things. This is new and happy-making.)

Ireland has white supremacists. Who knew? No, I won't be voting for anyone running on an Immigration Control Platform (which to me sounds like the punchline of a bad joke). Idiots. Foreign people aren't taking your jobs, or your social services, either. Grow up, get a life, and learn to play nicely with others.

I seriously need to organise this room so I'm not falling over things. And get a job. Although the one is not related to the other.

Tired now.

The sun is shining.

It is warm enough to go swimming.

But the tide is out. I mean, far out.

Therefore, no swimming for me this evening.

(Besides, I have stuff to do. Like organise study notes, and hoover, and stuff.)

(Worse luck.)

Why do some people go to a gym and then complain that it smells of sweat and old shoes?

These are the same people, by the way, who wear such quantities of perfume/lung-dissolving chemicals that one wonders that they still have olefactory nerves.

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Best song lyric heard today: 'Trying to play Jesus/ For the lepers in your head'.