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May. 16th, 2013 01:29 pmGiven that today I got up literally four hours after I'd normally get up on a Thursday (I normally have a 10 am class, so I get up at 8:30; today I didn't have class so I got up at, uh, 12:30), tomorrow when I have to get up at 7 am is gonna be OH SO MUCH FUN. We're going on a field trip to -- all I can remember is that it's four places that all start with the letter C and have to do with Rome and are in, I think, southern England? *checks e-mail* Chedworth, Cirencester, Caerleon, and Caerwent. Anyway, we're going on a field trip, I'm having coffee and/or tea with a friend beforehand, and we'll be in the Land Rover which, if the Hadrian's Wall trip was any indications, means that I will spend the entire time being slightly nauseous. Meanwhile, everyone else will be cramming in research for the two 5K papers we have due on Tuesday; unfortunately I lost the ability to read in a moving vehicle when I was in middle school, so I'll be curled up in a corner listening to music or an audiobook and trying not to throw up while hoping for the sweet oblivion of either sleep or death. (I mean, I think the trip itself should be cool if the weather isn't too awful -- ha ha, English weather, oh my god, what is this nonsense? It's just that the actual waking up + transit parts might kill me.)
Mostly I am starting to edge into anxious about my papers because I actually haven't started writing yet and my wrists are starting to flare up again, including yesterday when I was typing up my notes. (If I type them up, it's easier for me to find what I'm looking for when I'm searching.) But if my wrists are this bad, then I'm going to have to weigh being in pain versus being organized and efficient (HA HA HA) while writing my papers. So I might be even bitchier than usual this weekend while I'm ranting about the German barbarians and the violence inherent in the Roman system.
Like, the sad thing is that I knew this might happen, I knew I should have started writing a week or more ago just because my wrists were messed up and there was a good chance that the kind of panic writing I usually do on academic papers would put a lot of strain on my wrists. As usual, I just wish I'd typed up my notes as I was reading the books instead of in one swell foop afterwards, but again, I wish this every time and it never happens. (I mean, while we're wishing for things, I wish I'd started this a month ago, but a month ago my wrists and my emotional and mental health went to hell in a handbasket and I spent all my time sitting in my room crying or engaging in serious retail therapy and then hating myself for it. Now I've at least moved on to not crying all the time or even every day.)
I'm so frustrated by my stupid failure of a sleep schedule, too. Like -- I'm going to bed at about 3 am and waking up at 11, actually getting up at noonish. Every day. Gods. Like, okay, that is not actually so much sleep, that is about eight or nine hours. And I know why I'm doing it, why I managed to tweak my schedule that way; it's because up until the last few days before a paper's due, I have a general policy of not doing schoolwork past about ten o'clock (earlier in the term it would be eight o'clock). So if I'm spending more time before then doing schoolwork -- then the later I stay up the more time I have to do internet or writing non-schoolwork. Plus, about then every back in the States starts getting online. And then in the morning I just stay in bed because it's safe and warm and if I'm in bed I can't do anything else -- I don't even read in bed -- and as long as I'm there my wrists don't hurt and I'm not expected to do anything and everything's fine and I can just be in my own little world. But eventually I hear my flatmate with the adjoining wall get up -- sadly two-fifths of my flat is on just as much of a fucked up schedule as I am, so at least I'm not actually the most messed up sleep-wise -- or I have to pee or my hands stray to my ears or my lips or my sense of shame at still being in bed gets to be too much for me and I drag myself out of bed and then I hate myself for staying in bed for the rest of the day, until I go to bed at 2 or 3 am promising that this time I will actually get up when my alarm goes off instead of turning it off and staying in bed. (I am mostly not going back to sleep. I am just staying in bed and thinking of my own little fantasy world. Yay, imagination.)
I swear I used to be better at this whole human thing. Student thing. Whatever. At the moment it's all sort of tied up together for me.
Ibuprofen does not, sadly, do anything for my wrist pain, which as of now is slowly dialing back up to the point when I can't think about anything else because I'm so focused on it. Like, it doesn't hurt that much, I've been in worse pain. But it hurts just enough that I can't quite think past it, though that's probably more in my head than in my wrists, because wow, I have issues, and I also seriously end up wondering if I'm hallucinating all this about seventy percent of the time. (Painkillers not working does not help. I have the same problem with my back pain, although for some reason I don't think I'm hallucinating my back pain the way I think I'm hallucinating my wrist pain. I don't know, my brain is broken, whatever.)
COME ON, PAINKILLERS, KICK IN. At the very least so I can think about something else, like my imminent academic failure.
Mostly I am starting to edge into anxious about my papers because I actually haven't started writing yet and my wrists are starting to flare up again, including yesterday when I was typing up my notes. (If I type them up, it's easier for me to find what I'm looking for when I'm searching.) But if my wrists are this bad, then I'm going to have to weigh being in pain versus being organized and efficient (HA HA HA) while writing my papers. So I might be even bitchier than usual this weekend while I'm ranting about the German barbarians and the violence inherent in the Roman system.
Like, the sad thing is that I knew this might happen, I knew I should have started writing a week or more ago just because my wrists were messed up and there was a good chance that the kind of panic writing I usually do on academic papers would put a lot of strain on my wrists. As usual, I just wish I'd typed up my notes as I was reading the books instead of in one swell foop afterwards, but again, I wish this every time and it never happens. (I mean, while we're wishing for things, I wish I'd started this a month ago, but a month ago my wrists and my emotional and mental health went to hell in a handbasket and I spent all my time sitting in my room crying or engaging in serious retail therapy and then hating myself for it. Now I've at least moved on to not crying all the time or even every day.)
I'm so frustrated by my stupid failure of a sleep schedule, too. Like -- I'm going to bed at about 3 am and waking up at 11, actually getting up at noonish. Every day. Gods. Like, okay, that is not actually so much sleep, that is about eight or nine hours. And I know why I'm doing it, why I managed to tweak my schedule that way; it's because up until the last few days before a paper's due, I have a general policy of not doing schoolwork past about ten o'clock (earlier in the term it would be eight o'clock). So if I'm spending more time before then doing schoolwork -- then the later I stay up the more time I have to do internet or writing non-schoolwork. Plus, about then every back in the States starts getting online. And then in the morning I just stay in bed because it's safe and warm and if I'm in bed I can't do anything else -- I don't even read in bed -- and as long as I'm there my wrists don't hurt and I'm not expected to do anything and everything's fine and I can just be in my own little world. But eventually I hear my flatmate with the adjoining wall get up -- sadly two-fifths of my flat is on just as much of a fucked up schedule as I am, so at least I'm not actually the most messed up sleep-wise -- or I have to pee or my hands stray to my ears or my lips or my sense of shame at still being in bed gets to be too much for me and I drag myself out of bed and then I hate myself for staying in bed for the rest of the day, until I go to bed at 2 or 3 am promising that this time I will actually get up when my alarm goes off instead of turning it off and staying in bed. (I am mostly not going back to sleep. I am just staying in bed and thinking of my own little fantasy world. Yay, imagination.)
I swear I used to be better at this whole human thing. Student thing. Whatever. At the moment it's all sort of tied up together for me.
Ibuprofen does not, sadly, do anything for my wrist pain, which as of now is slowly dialing back up to the point when I can't think about anything else because I'm so focused on it. Like, it doesn't hurt that much, I've been in worse pain. But it hurts just enough that I can't quite think past it, though that's probably more in my head than in my wrists, because wow, I have issues, and I also seriously end up wondering if I'm hallucinating all this about seventy percent of the time. (Painkillers not working does not help. I have the same problem with my back pain, although for some reason I don't think I'm hallucinating my back pain the way I think I'm hallucinating my wrist pain. I don't know, my brain is broken, whatever.)
COME ON, PAINKILLERS, KICK IN. At the very least so I can think about something else, like my imminent academic failure.