Tiredness

I went to see the college nurse regarding my peculiar flu-type thing. It is not flu, or at least not any more. It is viral sinusitis, which is what is causing my endless coughing and headaches. The bad news is that it's not treatable by anything other than rest. The even worse news is that it's likely to drag on for weeks. This is not going to be fun, methinks. It's making me really, really tired - I feel like dropping off all the time - and the fact I can't get much sleep due to the amount of work I have to do is going to make it worse, resulting in a sort of vicious cycle. It's also making me snap. So I apologise in advance for being at all rude or snippy or just overly impatient. I don't mean it, probably. It's just the permanent headache that's doing it.

Mostly, it means I'm so tired that I don't have the energy for anything, except work. I've been out and about today - went round the libraries in the morning, and I went to see a Pembroke production of Grease in the afternoon - and now the plan was to start work, rather than go out, and get an early night, and I feel like I'd rather have the early night now. Slightly ridiculous, as it's barely eight o'clock and still light outside. I couldn't face going out with the others - they've gone to an Indian dance evening at Keble, and even apart from my general dislike, I don't think I can stay awake for it. I would have gone if Sky had been here, but sadly not. He was supposed to be here today to see Ben in Grease, but has, in the week since he left college, contracted blood poisoning. How he has done this, no one has any idea. He's in hospital in London on a drip, apparently more worried about not being here than being, y'know, in hospital. Poor boy. I do miss him, and worry about him travelling round the world when apparently he can get septicaemia when the furthest he's got from Oxford is London. His flight to Moscow has been put back a bit, naturally, so we will see him. I miss having him here.

Not having any energy is manifesting, in my case, as lying in the sun and watching my skin get darker brown. (Claire is terribly upset that I (Indian origin) and Pat (Latin origin) both tan perfectly evenly, whilst she goes from white to crispy pink back to white again.) This has led to Pat and I claiming a garden quad spot most days, kidding ourselves we're working but really dozing in the brightness with textbooks fallen from outstretched fingers. I'm sure I will start regretting the lack of work very soon indeed, as my workload is quite ridiculous again. Not that I'm planning to get silly over it - when it gets too much, I shall stop doing it, simple as that - but I'm sorry I don't have more time to do fun things. I was meant to be writing a piece for Cherwell last week - on whether aliens exist! - but that fell through, and I might go to one of the arts meetings this week. We'll see.

And beyond sunshine and work, that's it, really. I'm not writing anything at the moment, which is an odd feeling. In the last two months, I have written eight fics and thirty thousand words. Right now I have the ideas - Ten/Reinette, because I want to, and Rose and Sarah Jane for femgenficathon, and girl!Doctor/Tonks, all short pieces done for character rather than plot - but none of the energy, as all inspiration dries up in the face of tiredness. Even editing is beyond me - I have a fully-written snippet of prydonianfic for doyle_sb4 that's sitting untouched. It's not very nice.

Right. Work. If I can. Dear god, it's too much effort to even stand up.

Meme dump

Big fat meme dump of doom, because I do memes in notepad windows whilst procrastinating from my essays and promptly forget about them.

( what iTunes says about life )

Next, gamesiplay gave me interview questions weeks ago, and I've been doing them very slowly. She wanted to know: ( when I started writing; who my favourite Beat author is; scary stuff that's happened to me; what I'm doing post-PPE; what I'm doing in New England )

Comment if you want questions. First five get 'em. Um. Still ridiculously tired, but I've done a bit of work, and that's something, I guess. Tomorrow I need to do my laundry, do my reading for philosophy of mind, and I'm going with Maria in the afternoon to the university's No Diet Picnic. Which sounds like fun. In fact, all of that is fun with the possible exception of laundry. I rather think Philosophy of Mind is going down on my list of finals papers. I've picked four Philosophy papers, finally (Ethics and History from Descartes to Kant as core; Philosophy of Mind and Aesthetics as options), but am less sure about Politics. I am, however, feeling safe and secure in the fact that after this year, Economics will be as a closed book to me and I shall not care. Not in the slightest. It's amazing how panic evaporates when I lay down the macro textbooks and pick up Locke instead. I will never stop rambling about my undying passion for philosophy, although I am a little peeved that there is no option for feminist or gender issues. Still, I guess that's a little churlish - I did, after all, spend my evening sipping coffee in Starbucks with shoes kicked off and reading about Locke's theory of consciousness. Could there be anything better, from an academic standpoint?

I begin to ramble. Yes. I blame the overtiredness, myself.