![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sleepy sunday...
Nov. 8th, 2009 07:30 amI am all registered for my final 9 credits. Three in winter, six in spring. (I am also paid for winter term, which is important since you are not actually registered until you pay. Budget issues much?) Really, what this means is that I've scheduled an 800, a sprint, and then a long-cooldown all back to back. Being part way through the 800, I can tell you I am in the miserable steady part, which is less intense than the miserable final 300 sprint part, but is the part where I am most likely to give up. Assume, also, that I'm running on an indoor track with no grip, and I've lost count of what lap number I am on.
In the meantime, Anne is here; she flies back tonight. She's seen my office/school, she's Hellburgered, seen a movie, gone to the Diner, gone to museums, creoled at Louisiana Kitchen, partied, and today she'll meet nick's parents. Perhaps we'll hit another museum or so. It's been fun, and I'm glad she came out.
....
I have three projects due this week, none of which I have started. Last week was intense; I was vibrating with undirected energy, but I could at least focus it occasionally. I was dreaming in the various programming languages, stuck in endless loops, but in the mornings I had the answer to my homework. Thursday, someone turned the dial up to eleven. I could feel my blood pulsing, oxygen coursing, I could feel every footstep from the floor down and the foot up. I crackled. I shimmered. People stopped and stared at me. I saw everything. I felt every passing second. I felt the shape and taste of every word, said and unsaid. I wondered if this was what cocaine does to people. Then, suddenly, it all collapsed inward.
And it seems as if I can feel the various chemicals bathing my brain, interrupting electrical impulses, routing everything willy-nilly. I want to cry uncle, but there is no one to cry uncle to. I just have to keep plodding through.
ETA: oops. four projects due this week. two finished now, though. growl.
In the meantime, Anne is here; she flies back tonight. She's seen my office/school, she's Hellburgered, seen a movie, gone to the Diner, gone to museums, creoled at Louisiana Kitchen, partied, and today she'll meet nick's parents. Perhaps we'll hit another museum or so. It's been fun, and I'm glad she came out.
....
I have three projects due this week, none of which I have started. Last week was intense; I was vibrating with undirected energy, but I could at least focus it occasionally. I was dreaming in the various programming languages, stuck in endless loops, but in the mornings I had the answer to my homework. Thursday, someone turned the dial up to eleven. I could feel my blood pulsing, oxygen coursing, I could feel every footstep from the floor down and the foot up. I crackled. I shimmered. People stopped and stared at me. I saw everything. I felt every passing second. I felt the shape and taste of every word, said and unsaid. I wondered if this was what cocaine does to people. Then, suddenly, it all collapsed inward.
And it seems as if I can feel the various chemicals bathing my brain, interrupting electrical impulses, routing everything willy-nilly. I want to cry uncle, but there is no one to cry uncle to. I just have to keep plodding through.
ETA: oops. four projects due this week. two finished now, though. growl.
