Jogging Along

After almost a week of work avoidance issues, I'm back... doing very little. Tor is visiting from Imperial today, so we had discussions about our work...and life...and jogging, but it must count for something. I feel useful; I burned a cd for her. It took a while- my cd drive is shagged. This is really annoying as I will have to pay to get it fixed myself since it isn't a university-owned computer. I was supposed to come in yesterday, but I slept in, went for a run, and then went 'sod it, its a bank holiday!!'. My run was interesting- there is a fair on on the common, so I spent the first few minutes leapfrogging pushchairs and grannys. It was also knackering- week two of The Plan is much harder than week 1 :(. Jac doesn't seem very keen on running with me anymore either- surley I'm not that scary?? I have found a 10k race in january, which about the right time-scale if I keep going- but it does mean training through winter. I had a minor triumph (I can't believe how sad I am saying this) in that I finished half of the flourescent child's bag that I am knitting. I sacrafised my Simms playing time to do this, so now Andy has a much more popular Sim than me- hopefully i'm more popular in real life to make up for it!! Spoke to my parent on the weekend, wiht dad tittering as he half-watched the olympic closign ceremony, and repeatedly told me how brilliant Kelly Holmes is. Parents, eh? Better do some work now...

Survival

I felt like I deserved a bit of a skive after the hell of my upgrade meeting- but on the plus side I passed. This means the ball is well and truly in my court- If I want to stay I can stay, if I want to leave.. Tim was really harsh and asked loads of difficult questions in his usual, smiley annoying way. But it doesn't matter- he's my supervisor, so he won't be on my actual viva if I make it that far. After saying I was going to carry on as normal this week, I was knackered after my upgrade, so I took Wednesday off, and basically did sod all yesterday. I'm still really tired, so back to full speed next week I think :). I've had a good week, its been nice to be able to sit infront of the TV playing the sims and knitting (not simultaneously though). We collected Andy's old TV from his house last night, so the olympic swimmers no longer perform in a purple pool under a purple sky, it's kinda dull.

I've also stuck to The Plan- that which guides and commands us (well, actually its my running timetable- from 0 to steady running in 6 weeks apparently!). Me and Jac have just finished week 1 of The Plan, and I'm actually enjoying it. Well, kindof. We went out in the rain today, and I was wearing a jacket that Andy has given me that is around 4 sizes too large, so makes it look like I've forgotten to put my shorts on :). Jac wanted to jog reeeealllllyyyy slllloooooowllllyyy today, which was a little frustrating. She went out yesterday to make up for not going Wednesday, so didn't want to overdo it. She managed to fall at the last junction, and land on her bum- which is bad since she fractured her bum bone 6 months ago. She told me to carry on without her, so I sprinted the last minute and felt beter for it- although I must have looked like a bitch going back into the house and saying 'no Jacqui's not with me, I left her injured in the street'. She's ok though. I might go out by myself tomorrowsince I don't think today was really intense enough. I have to push myself a bit otherwise I won't be fit enough for the 5k. Its great doing a new sport, especially since it gives me the oportunity to spend money I don't have on cool new gadgets :).

I should at least pretend to do some work now...

Sleepyness

A lot can change in a week. I thought I'd made my decision at last, and was definately going to leave, but then I accidentally found some motivation, and now I'm confused. Maybe all we need is a bit of positive feedback, although I get precious little of that, but when things do go well its amazing how much more interesting the project suddenly seems. I'll give it a bit longer, but I won't let myself get horrendously depressed and ill again- no job is worth that.

This will be a quick catch up post, since I'm knackered. I am really bad at making myself go to bed, even though I need tonnes more sleep than your average person. I made myself get up at 730 to go for a gentle run with Jac- we are in training for a 5k run in a couple of months or so, and it was our first day of training together. Amazingly I'm still alive:0), but I might be a bit achy tomorrow. I've never run before, always hated it in fact, but I actually enjoyed having a plan and sticking to it, and having someone with me to set the pace and motivate me. But let's see if we can keep it up. Hopefully cricket will be back on tonight too, it keeps getting cancelled because of the atrocious weather. I never went to cornwal either- I decided to leave running away until after I'd got my report in, and now I don't feel like I need to run away so much, plus the weather is crap in Cornwall (no floods where I want to go, but still).

Andy has passed his viva, and is now officially Dr. Smartypants, so I can say my boyfriend is a doctor, which feels good! He didn't really get very stressed about it. I think I was more stressed about handing my upgrade report in. Well, that's done now, and I have my meeting about it tomorrow.. should really be reading some papers, but spent the morning looking for a gameboy advance on ebay, oops. I'm too tired and sneezy. Damn it, I knew I was allergic to mornings!

Making Holes

I think the tempory relief and calm that came with making the decision to leave has worn off; reality has come flooding back. I'm pretty down about my situation again. I was also thinking about Andy too. I just keep wishing he'd taken the job he was offered in Germany. It was doing the same stuff he is going to do in America, with a really cool boss, but in a slightly dull town and less vibrant department. When he got offered it, I was so happy. I thought he would take it as a compromise, and I could see him every few weeks. But he didn't: his career is important to him, so he took the better position that is the other side of the world. People keep saying things about the way Andy is with me, and even he said he was taking me for granted. I thought I was over all this, but everything keeps cycling around in my mind.

It was our last cricket match of the season, and I let the side down with some appauling fielding. I did partially redeem myself with a sliding stop at the boudary, which has left me with an impressive grass streak down my white trousers, and a mild limp. We went for 'a quick drink' afterwards. I ended up in town with Pete and Ian. We stayed in the Alex for a while, and I paced myself- no Stella tonight :). It got to last orders, and Pete got a bottle of wine and we went back to his, where he played some viynl and we disected the match in comfy chairs. Hannah, who works in the library with Pete, texted him to ask him to come to the Dungeon (no prizes for guessing what kind of music they play there). Hannah is gorgeous, and has 20-odd piercings and waist-length dreds, so she looks a little out of place behind the help desk in the library. So we went out again, and met up with Ian's friend Dave. Ian was absolutely battered, and kept wandering off, but it was cool- a rock club!!! In southampton!!! Brilliant!!! Ok, it wasn't the Kray, but it was pretty cool. I danced until two, which was a good excuse for not getting in work till lunchtime- but the real reason was I just didn't want to come in. I had a little parcel waiting for me - mum has sent me Percy, a good luck penguin. So parents can be pretty cool sometimes, too.

No Return

I finally managed to get my application sent off, after a catalogue of 'technical difficulties' that made me want to hurl my computer at the wall. I feel like there is no going back now; now that I have spoken to one of my panel and he knows I'm unhappy I can't carry on here, but if I don't managed to find a place through clearing, what then? I'm very tired and woozy from all the stress I've felt over the last few days. I had a very long chat with my parents on the phone, and they were very supportive. I think they are both relieved that I'm sounding much more positive about things now. I should speak to Donna, too- I need to find someone to take my room if I do go, because I'll still be liable for the rent.

I'm going down to Bude on sunday, and coming back tuesday. I've emailed a campsite: I found one that sounds like a mixture of peaceful serene views, and cheezy late-night family entertainment. I'm going looking for tranquility, but a bit of cheeze is always good when you need to forget yourself. Or am I trying to remember myself; I'm not sure. Anyway, my head is full of things like packing, cooking enough pasta for 2 days, route planning, bikni selection and anticipation, when it should be full of sorting my life out. What I really need is to do some work, and to get some sleep. I'm exhausted.

A Step

I have almost sent off my online application, I just need to decide on who to put down as my referees. I also managed to pin down one of the guy's on my advisory panel. He was brilliant, and agreed with me that there is no point doing something that makes me unhappy, and that I'm not making any progress with. I was a bit nervous, and annoyed myself by saying 'basically' at the start of every statement, grr. He thinks I should look at the MPhil guidlines (there don't seem to be any) and see if its possible to submit for that award, because at least it will make me (and Tim) look better. I came away feeling positive, except at some point I have to talk to Tim, that's going to be hell.

I'm hoping to escape anyway, two days in Cornwall and away from Southampton, yipee :0)

Walking Away

Yesterday I felt really bad; just bewildered and hopeless. I left early having done nothing, and went home. I knitted for a bit, but my hand-eye coordination seemd to be all over the place and I was really struggling- damn rib stitch has me flummoxed anyway! I got some of my phtos from Prague and my sketch pad, intending to copy one of the old buildings in pencil. I never looked at the photo, and began to draw without any plan. It came out pretty f*cked up, with bodies and shadows and falling people, all watched over by an enourmous eye. I should post it for psychoanalysis. Andy came back and cooked, and I watched TV, refusing to engage with what I was seeing and be entertained by it. I said I was going to bed, but just lay for a while, sometimes crying, sometimes just staring at the ceiling. I wanted a hug, and to squash my head against Andy's warm skin. He wouldn't need to speak, just to hold me. I hesitated at the lounge door: Jac and Donna were still in there. I swore at my own stupidity, and made myself enter the room, and be part of the gathering. I chatted to Jac for a while about her holiday. Donna asked me if I was ok; said I looked tired. I was: unbelievable so, but my eyes were bleary from crying, not from tiredness. After we went to bed, I managed to have a proper chat to Andy. He misses the proper me too- the me that has life and a spark and an energy. The me that would go climbing and be spontaneous and seize opportunites. I'm trying to get that back, I really am. I think I have to make a change, get a new job, and at least give myself the chance to be happy and fulfilled. We talked about him leaving too. I said he might find it difficult and not want a long distance relationship; he conceeded this, but pointed out that maybe it won't happen and we will survive. I wish I could go with him, but with no prospect of a work permit I'd be completely reliant on him; I'd live my life through him, and neither of us want that.

I got a reply to the 'casual inquiry' I sent to St Martin's college about their PGCE. They are interviewing physics and chemistry teachers tomorrow, so I might have just missed the boat on that one- but I spent the whole day writing a CV and letter of application anyway, because there is a chance they might not fill all their places. Andy was wonderful; proof-reading for me, and making changes so instead of saying 'I am crap, please kill me' my letter now reads 'I am wonderful, please give me a job'. I have also began filling out the online application to go into clearing for PGCE places. Its a fairly hefty form, you have to pay, and, oops, I probably should tell my supervisors I want to leave. I am swept away by all this and it feels unreal at the moment, but a big part of me feels I am doing the right thing: my over-riding emotion is relief.

Inertia

I managed to waste the entire working day. I feel like I'm watching myself from a distance, like people do in movies when they are on the operating theatre and things go a bit wrong- only in this place there is no bright light calling me forwards. I have this huge list of jobs I must do, and absolutely no motivation to start them; I feel so spent and tired. I had a heart to heart with Anna- she is unhappy too, but she is stubborn and refuses to give up on her phd. I just feel like its time to find something I love and throw myself at it, and this isn't it: If I threw myself at my phd I'd just slide off and remain in a sticky heap at the bottom. I tried to go and have a chat with one of my panel, but he wasn't in. It took me ages to build up the courage to talk to him, only for me to literally come up against a locked door, and its left me drained. I spent a while browsing for jobs on the internet- I found a couple of places that might still have space on PGCE courses for this year- but it would mean starting next month so if I walk, I have to walk now. I really feel backed into a corner. Anna was playing Devil's advocate and asked me why, if I feel so determined that its not what I want, am I still here. I could answer that with one word: Inertia. I feel like crap so I'm going to walk in the rain until I feel cleansed of it all, and go home and carry on making things from flourescent pink wool.

Knitting and Going Bang

I had a really good weekend. Saturday night was Phil's stag day, and I went along.. I was forced to wear a dodgy stick-on 'tash as token female. Andy wore it for a while and looked like a lost member of the Village People. We spent a couple of hours on a clay pidgeon shoot, and it was really good fun. A couple of the guys assumed I'd be crap being token female, but I'm happy to report I got a very competative 20/30 in the contest. After the shoot, we had a bbq and a campfire with the hens- (well phil and Linda are both scout leaders, after all). This was mellow, but fun. After a while, Phil seemed to be spending more and more time sitting on a log forlornly, with his head in his hads, a sure sign that the vomit hour was fast approaching. He got sick, and the hens got busy putting the fire out with a frightning efficiency, much to the annoyance of the stags who were still upright. We took this as a sign that the party was over and drifted home.

Sunday was relaxing. I spent a bit of time weeding and chatting to Steph and Andy. After a while, it began to rain gently, and we stayed out, enjoying the sensation that the mugginess of the past few days was being washed away. Andy swung in the hammock, thus devising a new game of human skittles, with him as the ball and me as a pin. After I'd been dusted down, we went into town. I bought a kids' knitting set to give me something to swear at infront of the TV. I spent the evening knitting on the sofa, while Andy made crumble with plums and blackberries from our garden. Steph made the not entirely unreasonable comment that we seemed to be turing into our grandparents.

The Evils of Drink

God, what a night. I had a cricket practice at lunchtime, and was utterly dreadful. On my way to the match I was trying to clear my mind, compartmentalise my feelings the way men can, so all the shit is left for later and I can focus on the game. Its not a skill I have mastered yet. I got there and started to warm up with Andy, bowling a few of my slow girly deliveries at him. It wasn't much preperation for his job as opening batsman, and he hit me all over the park. I came running back, breathless and pink, only to find that our pitch was double booked, so we no longer had anywhere to play.
After ringing around for an alternative, we admitted defeat and went to the pub. I was in no mood for socialising, and all I really wanted to do was go home, eat and have an early night. I started on pints of wife-beater, which is never a great idea, but especially not on an empty stomache. My larger-limit is usually two pints; any more and I'm gaurenteed a head twice its normal size in the morning. I normally move on to single spirits with mixers after my two-pint plateau, but still, any more that about 7 units and I tend to be a little poorly in the morning. But I was trying to drink myself happy. Andy was being grilled by Damon and Tim about his new life in America. He got very interested when they mentioned a loop-hole for extending his 3 year visa to a ten year one. In my mind I was screaming at him 'you fuck, you are going to leave me and not come back ever'. He was detailing the cruises and field work he hoped to go on soon. I did a little mental arithmetic,
'so I won't see you for two months?'
'No, probably 3 months'. I smiled, but the corners of my mouth didn't actually move. I wanted to be home, curled up in bed, feeling cared for and comfortable, with the option of a walk along the beach with dad after tea. I wanted to be protected from the world like a child. I wanted to be anywhere but here. I swallowed all the hoplessness, hurt and devestation along with the stella, and for a while it worked. After a protracted moan about how much I hated my phd, we moved on to happier topics. After 5 pints, I went for a pee, but then found I couldn't stand up. I sat on the floor, and puked and cried, great shuddering sobs. I was utterly distraught, and unable to command my legs to lift my body up and take it home. Andy eventually came in and rescued me. I walked out shakily like a zombie, past all the metal heads listening to the thrash band that I had failed to notice. We made slow progress home, Andy occasionally steering me out of the path of cars and people, while wheeling his enourmous cricket bag. I was sick twice more, and woke at 6 am. I desperately wanted a shower and some food, but didn't want to get up until my housemates left at 830. I finally got up, and showered away the pukiness, then lay on the sofa watching T4, feeling physically ok, but mentally lost. I'm not sure how Andy feels about me now; I think he's forgiven me but I still feel terrible.

Broken Ties

Andy has probably handed in by now; this time in 2 weeks or so he'll be Dr. Andy. I'm so proud of him, but so scared too. Once he has qualified, its less than a month until he moves to Wyoming. Its just starting to hit me that the person I want to spend my life with, and would give my life for, is going to leave me. We'll still be a couple, but I'll miss the intimacy of waking up next to him, of just being around and not having to talk because the silence feels like home. I want to go with him, but I'd never get a visa unless we married- which isn't on the cards (maybe one day). I feel very lost and small, and like I'm trapped in a puzzle to which there is no easy answer.

Flip-flop giggles

Its hotter than hell today, and the air is thick with an unplesant stickiness that seems to coat everyone it passes over and suck the energy out of them. Its not pleasant in the office, but I don't care because my mind is elsewhere. I had a good evening: I sat on the sofa with Andy and watched Peter Kay on TV. Its a gig I've seen before, and I knew all the punchlines, but still, I laughed and laughed with a raw, feckless joy at the stupidity of it. It really lifted my spirits, and I haven't started work yet today so I'm still on a high. I'll do half an hour's work today, play cricket on the quad at lunchtime, work for a few hours and then I have a match and a couple of beers to look forward to this evening. I'm (illegally- health and safety issue- you may fatally stub your toe) wearing flip-flops in work. Its very satisfying to walk down the corridor and see the sheer irritation on people's faces as you flip and flop past their open office doors. I have noticed that my left foot flips and my right flops, consistently. I wonder if this is normal?

Andy will submit his thesis today, so I get my relaxed, wonderful boyfriend back today, in place of the distracted and distant person he has been over the last few months. I feel like the discomfort of work will be punctuated today with things I want to do, and this will break it down into bite-sized pieces. I can get through today without being sad and listless because of this. That's the plan anyway.

Resignation without Resolution

Really I should have started this six months ago. That's what the local Dr. in Charge of Crazy People (Southampton) would say anyway. He told me to write down how I was feeling, keep a journal of my emotions so we could spot if my fun bursts of abnormality occurred with any sort of pattern. Like maybe I get a little more crazy when Neptune is in ascension, or I eat processed cheese slices, or when Big Brother is on TV. Of course, being a stubborn Capricorn and Neptune being in ascension, I ignored him. He made me feel like I was wasting his time. 'Thanks for your visit, please come back when you are more crazy.' So I left hurt and frustrated, and cancelled all subsequent appointments. I felt that if he wasn't concerned with my erratic behaviour, then perhaps I shouldn't be either; maybe I could learn to cope with the hollow sadness, the bursts of uncomfortable, fast-paced nervous energy and the empty numbness. The numbness is the worst to cope with; its impossible to deal with a formless emotion- there is no correct reaction to a feeling you cannot name. After a few months of coping reasonably well, with the stabilising influence of my Beautiful Boy, I'm now in a slightly bewildered state. I'm currently being very nice to the Dr.'s receptionists to try and get reinstated as a patient. I'm also writing down how I feel here, because the Dr. told me to. All in all, I'm being a Well-Behaved Crazy Person, because I feel a sense of frustrated desperation, and I'm not sure what else to do... So that's why I'm here, pouring out my feelings, minor hangover fuzzy and listening to Linkin Park, like some horribly deformed teen cliche.

Anyone who knows me knows that I threaten to quit my PhD roughly once every two weeks. I simply don't have the mental energy to continue fighting for a cause I'm not dedicated to. I feel like I'm nibbling away at an impossible task, and I'm bored, frustrated and sick of feeling inferior, incapable and dwarfed by the enormity of the task. My peers are struggling too, but I don't take much comfort from this; the difference is that they are coping where I am not. I'm struggling to find an analogy: Imagine trying to eat your way through a field of corn; climb Everest with your feet tied together; find your way out of a maze blindfold. That just about covers it. I feel like a spring that has been stretched too far, and stress has taken all the bounce out of it. It's fairly joyless. Ever since I started here, I've had problems with both my mental and physical health. I'm just recovering from a two-month viral infection. It was this that forced me to face the ridiculousness of my situation. I'm tired of the crushing claustrophobia, tired of picking fights with Andy, tired of crying in the street. Something must give, and I don't want it to be me. And yet I'm still here. I'm not sure if its out of a sense of loyalty, a fear of being a failure, a reluctance to let go of my social life, or because of some small glimmer of interest and optimism about my project. I really don't know.

Its not all misery here though. My garden is beautiful now, something I can be really proud of and enjoy. I finally put my hammock up, and its like a little oasis of bliss in the turbulence of real life- even though its made of net so it causes rather unattractive arse-bulge in little diamond shapes. The cricket is coming along too- I stood up to Andy's ferocious bowling (well, ferocious compared to the 'there you go dear' style of the ladies). I also have good friends here, who try and force me to have fun against my will. Its a happy situation. If only I could get a good nights sleep though- 3 am this morning the NFBs next door let their dog out for a shit,
'There you go Rollo, Das a good boy... GOOD BOY!!'
The poor dog is probably mortified, thinking 'God, will you crazy foreigners just let me have a shit in peace, please!'

Anyway, that was traumatic (not least because blogger deleted most of this and I couldn't remember what I'd written). If I don't post for a few days I'm either working on my upgrade report (written once, but obviously not good enough to please The Boss), or I've gone away for a few days to clear my head. I don't know where. Anywhere. Just not here.