I want to post things that are seasonal, because it’s October, and Halloween is the only holiday I really like. But I can’t think of anything to post that’s seasonal. (This is even worse on my other blog, since it’s about my toy collection, and I don’t have time to take new photos, but the only photos I have sitting around waiting to be used are either singles for Wordless Wednesday, or a set for a review of the new(ish) Monster High two-pack of Cleo de Nile and Deuce Gorgon, but my next post on that blog will be my 100th, and I want it to be something a little more special than just more Monster High. (Then again, the son of Medusa would be appropriate, given what’s going on right now in my myth re-tellings, and given this past Wordless Wednesday was my vintage Calibos action figure… (I am horrified beyond words, btw, that a toy younger than I am is now considered “vintage”…it was only the 1980s! That’s not that long ago! *whimper*)))
Worst of all, I shouldn’t be online anyway. I should be reading. I have tons more reading to do for next week — at least 150 pages for the Thursday only class, and about as much for the Tuesday-Thursday class — and I need to be researching my final papers. But it’s so hard to concentrate on my reading. I just don’t wanna read it right now! I want to play games, prepare for NaNo, blog, photograph my dolls, buy new dolls (not that I have the money for that right now) and generally do anything that isn’t reading one more word about the Wars of Independence in Spanish America, or about the fall of the Roman Republic. Halfway through the semester (roughly) and I’m utterly sick of both my classes.
Sorry. I know I wasn’t going to do these kinds of pointless posts after leaving the daily format, but…sometimes I just want to vent, and venting to the few people available to me just doesn’t feel right, somehow. (Especially venting to my brother. He’s very sympathetic, but it makes me feel guilty; he’s never finished college, and here I am whining about my Master’s studies? It’s very awkward.)
The worst thing, really, is how much I want to do NaNo this year, though I know I don’t have time. But I really like the idea I came up with — though that’s bitten me before — and I just…I just don’t like the idea of not doing it, for the first time in years. (Ilios was my first NaNo novel. I think that was 2011? Sounds about right…) But with two major research papers due mid-December, one 25 pages and the other 5,000 words, plus a 3,000 word paper due earlier in December, I don’t see how I could have time, because I’ll need to spend every spare minute reading. (Though at least the 3,000 word paper is expected to be based only on the readings assigned for class. Which, of course, don’t let up for a minute. At least the TTh class doesn’t have any more assigned readings after the ones for this coming week.) And yet, on the other hand, I haven’t done any serious amount of writing since April, so if NaNo can get me back on track again (which I had hoped, actually, to have last year’s NaNo do, if I recall correctly…) then surely that’s a good thing, right? (Then again, my writing sucks, so maybe it isn’t…)
I shouldn’t be writing this.
I should be reading Plutarch.
Or one of those ten zillion books and journal articles waiting for me to read them.
Except it would have to be the journal articles; I’ve already used up all my little post-it-note-flags in the two biographies assigned for this week. (The journal articles, of course, are .pdfs on my iPad, so I can mark them up in the .pdf reader.) Once I’ve written the paper for this set of reading — due the Thursday after this coming one, naturally — then I can take out most of the flags, and rededicate them. (But only most, ’cause the pink flags are all for my final paper. And I’ll have to check which of the rest of them are for this first paper and which are for the second-to-last paper. But most of them are for this coming paper.)
Also, it doesn’t help that my arm is acting up horribly, despite that it’s getting cooler outside. (Though it’ll be back up in the 80s by Wednesday!) But I’m stressed over all this reading, so of course my arm is acting up. It responds to stress and hormones as well as heat.
Have I said lately that it sucks to be me? Because it totally does.
All right, I’ll stop moaning and whining now.
I’ll get to reading that Plutarch. Should be a faster read than the biography of San Martin, right?