in which Alex whines
Jan. 7th, 2015 11:37 amYoga video lecture 2 is insisting I find a clear wall against which to practice a pose. This house does not have any clear walls.
I don't think I have enough energy to make it through a 45-min yoga session.
I have to call three medical-professional offices, ideally yesterday or the day before. This involves phones.
Good god that's a lot of mucus.
My hands are fucking freezing. (So is the rest of me but the rest of me can wear clothes and still do things, so the rest of me doesn't have it as bad.)
I can't seem to think properly.
Homework trumps both exciting new reading material and exciting newish writing idea. (The reading is Criptiques, which I bought on the strength of the title and also Autistic Hoya is one of the authors. The writing is trans ecofeminism, which needs a lot more thought and reading before I can properly write about it.) Homework also trumps Translucent work and anthology writing. I can't seem to homework.
T'ang poetry in English is a gold-plated pain in the ass.
I try to connect with my mother on a hopefully mutually agreeable level (she is, or was, a poet; she doesn't need to see a lot of my poetry or know that the T'ang poetry assignment is for a queer studies class, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have insight to offer on the T'ang poem draft) and she ignores me. And then she complains about how every time she tries to connect with her kids we ignore her.
Can I go back to bed now?
Do I really have to go to work today?
Ow.
I don't think I have enough energy to make it through a 45-min yoga session.
I have to call three medical-professional offices, ideally yesterday or the day before. This involves phones.
Good god that's a lot of mucus.
My hands are fucking freezing. (So is the rest of me but the rest of me can wear clothes and still do things, so the rest of me doesn't have it as bad.)
I can't seem to think properly.
Homework trumps both exciting new reading material and exciting newish writing idea. (The reading is Criptiques, which I bought on the strength of the title and also Autistic Hoya is one of the authors. The writing is trans ecofeminism, which needs a lot more thought and reading before I can properly write about it.) Homework also trumps Translucent work and anthology writing. I can't seem to homework.
T'ang poetry in English is a gold-plated pain in the ass.
I try to connect with my mother on a hopefully mutually agreeable level (she is, or was, a poet; she doesn't need to see a lot of my poetry or know that the T'ang poetry assignment is for a queer studies class, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have insight to offer on the T'ang poem draft) and she ignores me. And then she complains about how every time she tries to connect with her kids we ignore her.
Can I go back to bed now?
Do I really have to go to work today?
Ow.