Monday, May 15, 2006
Slight Change in Plans
Ahem.
I've decided to NOT go for a walk/jog and instead write until Mike comes home. Physical laziness is excusable -- I need to take advantage of writing power when I can, damnit.
I told you this blog would keep me accountable.
I've decided to NOT go for a walk/jog and instead write until Mike comes home. Physical laziness is excusable -- I need to take advantage of writing power when I can, damnit.
I told you this blog would keep me accountable.
A New Week Calls For a New Work Plan
Accountability is important, right? Here's my plan for today:
Oh right, because the PhD is just so rewarding. [/end sarcasm]
- start laundry as soon as I'm done wasting time on the computer
- write Dracula paper from 1pm-4pm. Remember to take reasonable breaks for food, air, etc.
- after writing, clean up the house a bit
- read some Trollope (I'm loving Phin Finn right now -- le sigh)
- eat something and go for a walk/jog
- make myself a decent solo dinner after the walk/jog
- read more Trollope
Oh right, because the PhD is just so rewarding. [/end sarcasm]
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Found It!
Well, some of it anway -- motivation, that is. I wrote for a few hours yesterday and made some progress.
This afternoon, however, is all about Dickens. MUST FINISH THE DICKENS.
This afternoon, however, is all about Dickens. MUST FINISH THE DICKENS.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Missing Motivation
I have no motivation to work. When I sit down to write I feel sick to my stomach and convinced that everything I put down will be worthless.
Yesterday, at the gym, I saw a poster advertising personal training certification classes and I kept thinking about how fun it would be to do something like that -- something physical, something totally different.
Academic self-doubt is totally normal -- so normal, in fact, that the imposter syndrome in universities is discussed regularly in pretty much every academic publication. Normally, I can write my way through the doubt. I don't actually defeat the doubt, but once there are enough words on the page it just moves to the back of my mind and I get the paper done. Right now I can barely write in my blog or journal. It's like that part of my brain is paralyzed.
But I cannot take a day off from writing today. I am going to force myself to write. I will park my ass at my desk, make some tea, turn on CBC2 and write for 4 hours. Even if I just copy quotes, I must write something or this road block will turn into a total detour and I'll end up signing up for a fitness training class.
Yesterday, at the gym, I saw a poster advertising personal training certification classes and I kept thinking about how fun it would be to do something like that -- something physical, something totally different.
Academic self-doubt is totally normal -- so normal, in fact, that the imposter syndrome in universities is discussed regularly in pretty much every academic publication. Normally, I can write my way through the doubt. I don't actually defeat the doubt, but once there are enough words on the page it just moves to the back of my mind and I get the paper done. Right now I can barely write in my blog or journal. It's like that part of my brain is paralyzed.
But I cannot take a day off from writing today. I am going to force myself to write. I will park my ass at my desk, make some tea, turn on CBC2 and write for 4 hours. Even if I just copy quotes, I must write something or this road block will turn into a total detour and I'll end up signing up for a fitness training class.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
My Ankles Hurt...
...and it's not because I'm a round-heeled woman.
I'm going off an anti-depressant/anti-anxiety drug I've been on for 3 odd years because the stupid stuff made my blood pressure shoot up. The withdrawal is ugly. I've been fairly lucky as I haven't had too many body side effects but I've had a whack of emotional/mental ones (and Mike, a whack of side effects is at least 5 and up to 7). The first week I swore I was either developing asthma, having a heart attack or suffering from pneumonia. The tension in my chest and back was brutal. I also had ugly acid reflux. I hate burping, so that was a particularly icky side effect. Now I'm all emotional. I cried because of a financial mistake this morning, and I actually threw stuff around in the bathroom. Then I yelled at my cat because she peed in a chair. She only pees in a chair when the litter box isn't to her liking. I had a mild panic attack while cleaning out the litter bins. Even the English secretary noticed how off I was today. Bleargh-o-rama.
So my ankles hurt because the only thing that has kept me relatively sane over the past 10 days has been walking. I have walked a stupid number of kilometres. I walk everywhere. I'll walk instead of taking the bus, and I'll walk to get stuff even if I don't really need stuff. I walk around the house, the yard, the neighborhood, downtown, uptown, pretty much anywhere it's legal to walk. Weirdly enough, my hips don't hurt, me leg muscles don't hurt, my oft-sore toe doesn't hurt, and even though I've been carrying bags and purses in a most awkward fashion my back, shoulders and arms don't hurt. The sunburn I got while walking doesn't hurt. My ankles hurt. My brain hurts a bit too, but today it's all about the ankles.
This post is for you, Mike, and your ankle fascination.
I'm going off an anti-depressant/anti-anxiety drug I've been on for 3 odd years because the stupid stuff made my blood pressure shoot up. The withdrawal is ugly. I've been fairly lucky as I haven't had too many body side effects but I've had a whack of emotional/mental ones (and Mike, a whack of side effects is at least 5 and up to 7). The first week I swore I was either developing asthma, having a heart attack or suffering from pneumonia. The tension in my chest and back was brutal. I also had ugly acid reflux. I hate burping, so that was a particularly icky side effect. Now I'm all emotional. I cried because of a financial mistake this morning, and I actually threw stuff around in the bathroom. Then I yelled at my cat because she peed in a chair. She only pees in a chair when the litter box isn't to her liking. I had a mild panic attack while cleaning out the litter bins. Even the English secretary noticed how off I was today. Bleargh-o-rama.
So my ankles hurt because the only thing that has kept me relatively sane over the past 10 days has been walking. I have walked a stupid number of kilometres. I walk everywhere. I'll walk instead of taking the bus, and I'll walk to get stuff even if I don't really need stuff. I walk around the house, the yard, the neighborhood, downtown, uptown, pretty much anywhere it's legal to walk. Weirdly enough, my hips don't hurt, me leg muscles don't hurt, my oft-sore toe doesn't hurt, and even though I've been carrying bags and purses in a most awkward fashion my back, shoulders and arms don't hurt. The sunburn I got while walking doesn't hurt. My ankles hurt. My brain hurts a bit too, but today it's all about the ankles.
This post is for you, Mike, and your ankle fascination.