Plodding

Plodding. That's what I'm doing.



Creating lists of tasks for each day, starting at the top, working to the bottom then at about 10pm after completing the final thing, I'm writing a list to start the next day.

At least I'm being efficient, eh?

I can't work out whether this is due to being in limboland, or depression, or winter.
Limboland = MSc application/moving away from home/leaving the town I've made my town/starting to live independently. Half of me wants to aim for the Best Possible Places, half of me wants to apply to less well respected places which might understand I'm a bit quirky. But then most maths departments are full of people who are a bit quirky - if they weren't quirky, they wouldn't be mathematicians. 3 weeks today, I shall go to where I'd really like to get into for their open day and will work from there. Ideally, within the next 5 weeks I'll have applied. Then there's funding, accommodation, disability stuff (for instance, whether I'm going to be more physically disabled by then is a fairly pressing concern, whether I can find suitable MH support, whether I can keep my fabby specialist physiotherapist, even if it means trips home every few weeks...) before we even get to the "am I academically able?" crap.


[I have a first class honours degree, yes. I have a humongous love of the subject, yes. I've wanted to study beyond undergrad level since I was 5 years old, yes. I've not really had to try much yet though. It has come naturally. I hit a vague wall in middle of the second year of my degree, which I eventually leapt over and continued achieving. That can't continue forever.]

I'm just plodding. Getting everything done, not really thinking, not wanting to think. Weird audio/visual hallucinations are back, but I'm not really sleeping enough, so that's not any great surprise?

Plodding. Wishing I could get more hope out of my current situation, more excitement, more fun. But that is selfish. Sometimes life is just a bit... well... ploddish. And that should be OK. But it doesn't feel much like OK.

This might just be a reaction to grey skies.
This might just be a reaction to a new vicar moving into the vicarage this week - I can't help but know the "old situation" at church is over.
This might just be a reaction to bad joint pain.
This might just be a reaction to the crappy crappy politics of this country.
This might just be a reaction to an essay. Or a looming diploma. Or or or or or ORRR...

*breathes*

Plodding is fine. Plodding is easy really, I know what is expected, I do what is expected, I continue as per. I plod, I moan about plodding, I feel tired, but sometimes moaning/exhaustion is just what happens.

Plodding is fine so long as it doesn't get too quick. Then I end up burning out, past experience would suggest this would result in injury, psych wards and the like. I burnt out during my sixth form years, in spectacular form, 3 weeks before my final exams. I don't want/can't/won't let that happen again.

Plodding onwards. Consoling the grieving, watching out for the frail old ladies (and the near-miss accidental abductions which happen as a result... [long story...]), worrying for those I love, teaching the maths, doing the music, even baking the cake. Smiling vacantly too, at times. Or crying on buses (seriously, WTF was that about?)

Plodding. Funny really, I always thought plodding would suffice, thank you very much. Turns out I'm missing something.

Plodding. And wanting to go on a trudging forest walk to out-plod the plod, but being physically unable. Need to work out another way to out-plod the plodding then.



Oh, and to cheer things up a tad, my staunchly atheist cellist desk partner said to me this evening "If God had intended us to bake chocolate brownies, he wouldn't have invented M&S". Bravo, cellist, bravo.