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The Player of Games
Apr. 16th, 2003 09:07 pmMy mother is on a get-fit kick. She has decided she wants to lose fifteen kilos. I told her this was frankly ridiculous, not because it isn't a laudable goal, but because characteristically, she has gone all-out. I tried telling her she was a doctor, she has done basic biology, and it's not a good idea to go through the day having eaten only a green apple, but she insisted. I also told her she's a little out of the demographic for anorexia nervosa. She then claimed, utterly infconsequentially, to be very flexible for her age. She's going to the gym, apparently, and she said, "I lied a little about my age."
"How old did you say you were?"
"Forty-seven."
"But you are forty-seven."
"Am I?"
A quick spot of mental calculation, and I informed her that she was. She grinned and said, "That's nice to know." I despair of the woman. The odd thing is, she and I are about the same height and build, and her ideal weight is my actual weight. I don't know whether to be scared or pleased about this.
I was afraid I was doing no work today, and while I did about forty-five minutes' worth of French in the morning, at about five-ish, I perched myself on the kitchen windowsill next to the open window and started revising the Cold War. It took me about two hours to cover it, and I don't know, I feel like I actually achieved something, which is always good. I clambered down in time to watch M*A*S*H with Pedar, which was also just nice.
The day, therefore, has been vaguely productive. I even wrote a swift, thousand-word-snippet fic, which needs a beta. I would ask![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
purplerainbow, but I haven't spoken to her for a while. She's on D of E, that's it. Poor girlie. Mad, as are the other two, but yeah. Poor girls.
My mother's in the kitchen watching Astitva. I am so flabbergasted by the twists and turns in the plot that I will not even begin to relate them here. Eeeshk.
It's a good thing I didn't update earlier, as over the course of the day my mood has stabilised until now I feel rather... balanced, is the word. Balanced, and normal, and not remotely swingy. That's one thing to be said for revision, and school in general. By forcing you to focus on something other than yourself, it makes you feel okay. Not good, but okay, and a little fanfic/writing/reading/chocolate/whatever can do the rest. In my case, it was my Amazon parcel's appearance. I now own The Player of Games to go with the other book.
This is nice. I could definitely get used to this.
"How old did you say you were?"
"Forty-seven."
"But you are forty-seven."
"Am I?"
A quick spot of mental calculation, and I informed her that she was. She grinned and said, "That's nice to know." I despair of the woman. The odd thing is, she and I are about the same height and build, and her ideal weight is my actual weight. I don't know whether to be scared or pleased about this.
I was afraid I was doing no work today, and while I did about forty-five minutes' worth of French in the morning, at about five-ish, I perched myself on the kitchen windowsill next to the open window and started revising the Cold War. It took me about two hours to cover it, and I don't know, I feel like I actually achieved something, which is always good. I clambered down in time to watch M*A*S*H with Pedar, which was also just nice.
The day, therefore, has been vaguely productive. I even wrote a swift, thousand-word-snippet fic, which needs a beta. I would ask
purplerainbow, but I haven't spoken to her for a while. She's on D of E, that's it. Poor girlie. Mad, as are the other two, but yeah. Poor girls.My mother's in the kitchen watching Astitva. I am so flabbergasted by the twists and turns in the plot that I will not even begin to relate them here. Eeeshk.
It's a good thing I didn't update earlier, as over the course of the day my mood has stabilised until now I feel rather... balanced, is the word. Balanced, and normal, and not remotely swingy. That's one thing to be said for revision, and school in general. By forcing you to focus on something other than yourself, it makes you feel okay. Not good, but okay, and a little fanfic/writing/reading/chocolate/whatever can do the rest. In my case, it was my Amazon parcel's appearance. I now own The Player of Games to go with the other book.
This is nice. I could definitely get used to this.
