Desperation and Determination

One off my PhD colleagues who finished last year told me he wrote most of his PhD in 6 weeks. During those 6 weeks, he did nothing else. In his telling, he would wake up and work on his PhD until his brain couldn't take it any more. Almost every day for six weeks. I was wondering when I would be able to work in similar frenzied fashion, and I think finally the wait is over. I have been working in as close to a frenzy as I can for the past two days. I have four days more before I leave for Brighton and exactly one month until I leave for the U.S. For more than a year, I have been trying to get my theoretical framework in to shape, and finally I feel like I have reached a do-or-die stage. I can't imagine having to cancel my US trip because I am too far behind on my PhD. There are other reason I might have to call it off--cancelled flight, Covid, some other hell--but not because of my PhD. I feel a heady mix of desperation and determination. 

Elements Again

 Today, I restarted Elements, the bodyweight programme that had shown promising results for my shoulder last year for a bit. My last physio (number 4) turned out to be a dud. He is out of ideas but too roud to admit so. he didn't change a single exercise from last time. So, I have decided to drop him and go back to Elements. But, this time I am going to do it differently. I am going to take it super-slow. Just 30-mins three times a week instead of 45-minites five times a week. I am also going to try to obsess less about my shoulder. My problem has always been trying to rush my recovery, doing the shoulder rehabilitation exercises with a vengeance. This time I am going to take my time. If I look less buffed, so be it. If my tummy looks less taut, so be it. 

Holiday in Cornwall

The Cornwall holiday failed to meet even my low expectations. Why the low expectations? Because I am not a seaside person, because the weather forecast was not great, and because the friend I was with is not a soul friend.  She is a dear friend, but I have come to realise that you can have dear friends whom you would rather not spend extended lengths of time with. But, that is the subject of another blog post. I caught a cold a day before my Cornwall trip, and the wind and the intermittent sun of Cornwall made it worse. This particular cold has given me food for thinking about my relationship with exercise and whether it turns abusive at times. I knew fully well it was not a great idea to go for a hill run before a day and night out, but I still did. And, I am paying the price. I don't expect to find all the answers today, and maybe there are no clear answers. So, I am just going to leave it at that. 

Sore Throat Before Hols

 As luck would have it, I woke up with a sore throat this morning. Not great timing, since I am due to go to Cornwall tomorrow. I spent most of the morning moping, but then the day got better, even though my throat didn't. I also met my friends for dinner in the evening, after apprising them of the situation, and making sure they were ok with me attending. It was pouring when I left for dinner, and I arrived at the restaurant drenched. I didn't feel great during the dinner, but I forced myself to make conversation. And, do you know what, it worked. My mood lifted as dinner progressed and by the end of the dinner, I was feeling buoyant. I was hit by the micro-epiphany that the worst that could happen was that I would test positive for Covid and have to cancel the vacation and lose a fair bit of money. I am on the path to cultivating a more healthy relationship with money, so I am confident that that bit won't rankle. The only other thing to worry about was not to give a cold to my friend. I could take adequate precautions with that. I am fortunate that a cold doesn't knock me out completely.

Betty Leaves Tomorrow

Betty is moving out tomorrow. One year ago I would have jumped for joy at this news. However, although Betty has long ceased to be my chief tormentor, her sullen presence was a bit of a dampener on my mood. We must have barely spoken a few words to each other since that incident last April. And, there would be periodic reminders that silent Betty does not equal stable Betty. We have had the ambulance service us a couple of times in the wee hours of the morning, most recently this morning. The possibility that she might take the ultimate step was not far-fetched. And although I had mentally dissociated myself from her, I will feel relieved by her departure. She is a like a powder keg with slightly moist powder. Not a clear threat but you never know. 

She might not be my chief tormentor at the moment, but  cumulatively she has by far given me the most grief. She remained one of the least considerate people I've met.  I sometimes wonder how I put with all of it. I had decided that she and the Irish guy were the kind of people who only give you bad surprises. The only good surprise they could possibly provide is news of their  departure.  I have been proven wrong about the Irish guy, but that's a story for another day. So, yes, I will be glad to see the back of Betty. 

Sunday Scaries

There is a prompt on Hinge which says "How do I fight eh Sunday scaries. It apparently means feelings of anxiety and dread ahead of a new week. I have had my own version of Sunday scaries for the past few weeks, but  my source of anxiety has not been work, but dating. The stories are too complicated to get into  but suffice to say that a lot of the anxiety was self-inflicted and avoidable. Fortunately, this Sunday has been peaceful on that front. 

The Appeal of Jack-Ass

 I have been watching the Jack Ass collection since yesterday. It features a bunch of adventure sports-types pulling stunts and pranks designed to provoke outrage either because of the danger involved or because they are disgusting. The cast members not performing the stunt chortle with laughter when the person performing the stunt is doubled over in pain or retching their guts out. So, why do I enjoy such mindless TV?

Firstly, their talent, their willingness to put their bodies through excruciating pain and court the possibility of life-changing injuries or death is not be scoffed at. These are special people and what they do could be considered an art form. Secondly, with a world that increasingly resembles a dystopian hellscape, mindless TV has its own charm. Jack-ass kind of entertainment appeals to something primitive in us. The urge to laugh when someone falls or gets kicked in the nuts. Importantly, there is no hint of guilt because the people undergoing the pain have a high degree of pain tolerance and get paid millions to perform the stunts and pranks. Also, the fact that a clip made it to film means that the person involved didn't die or was maimed. That said, there are certain pranks that are too disgusting to watch. As an aside, it is amazing how big a role the mind plays in a retching response.