anotherlongshot (anotherlongshot) wrote,
anotherlongshot
anotherlongshot

Tired in the Library

I'm writing this in the law faculty now instead of powering through the last bit of my never-ending Chapter 3 (which feels like I have spent the past ten years of my life writing/re-writing, lather rinse repeat) because I have a headache, I am cold, and I am waiting for E to pick me up after he's finished with tennis. In other words, I am more or less mentally checked out of this chapter despite the fact that I am one week behind schedule (which, by the way, really sucks and stresses me out). Instead of wasting time reading things like the Guardian and Reddit, I thought, why not write an entry? After all, it's not as if this journal has been bombarded with entries lately.

Still. What is there to say? Life still feels suspended, even life with E. My undefined life post-PhD causes this relationship to be somewhat undefined, too. Or more precisely: it does not feel wholly and fully real. In a way, it feels like it's existing on borrowed time until the other shoe finally drops and we're forced to confront important issues, like Where Are We Gonna Live? I don't know; all I know is, probably not Ghent, or even London, let alone Cambridge, and pretty much not Paris.

Thinking about this is making my headache worse. I'm not sure what is the cause of this headache...I started feeling it a few minutes into my ride on the bus. Perhaps it was a particularly bumpy bus ride today because of the particularly old nature of the bus.

So yes, I have a figured out a way to get from E's place to the faculty/town without spending 10 pounds on taxi each time: take two buses. The annoying thing about Cambridge--and the UK more generally--is that there are two bus companies servicing a town of maybe 100,000, a substantial amount of whom ride a bicycle. This means that there are two different fare types for the two buses that I have to take, which means having to spend extra money and buying different tickets for the two buses. It is particularly annoying that the first bus doesn't have a sensible single trip fare; instead, its cheapest option is 4.50 pounds for a day pass. Um, why the hell would I spend my day taking buses everywhere? It makes sense for some, I assume, but it doesn't make sense for me. So I paid 15 pounds for a 7-day pass, and for the second bus, thank goodness for student discount; otherwise, I'd have to pay 2.50 instead of 1.

I've taken the buses three days in a row now and Google Maps' arrival time has been very accurate, so hooray for that.

Isn't sad that, when I finally update, I have nothing more interesting to write about than taking buses in Cambridge? To be fair, though, I've taken the bus more times these past three days than my three years in Cambridge combined--which was a grand total of zero. But that's the joy and advantage of living in college: it's so central that you can walk everywhere, even if it takes 20 minutes to walk to the faculty. Could be worse...like an hour, which I did from E's last week or whenever, in a bid to save money on cab fare. I followed the shortest route on Google Maps and was actually quite scared when I found myself walking through some random marshes or whatever for a good 30 minutes with barely anyone in sight. For some reason--probably an obvious one--after my bad experience with the hobo, I have become quite paranoid about my personal safety as a woman.

Like yesterday. E and I went to play tennis at the club in the evening, i.e. after 8. Halfway through, some random old drunk cycled onto the club premises and started shouting a bunch of shit that didn't make any sense; it wasn't even clear to me the target of his drunken ire. I caught something about how his parents didn't pay for him to do something or other, and 'this country' this and that. It basically didn't make sense.

I was rattled anyway. Rattled enough to lose focus and start playing badly when I was actually playing quite well before that. I was also standing on the end of the court that's just beside the carpark and the path leading into the club, so I felt like he was right behind me, and that the fence wasn't strong enough to keep him out. Even after he'd finally left, I still felt rattled and distracted, and didn't play well for a good twenty minutes before I finally eradicated him from my mind.

Anyway. I'm too tired and unwell to continue this entry for much longer. I really wish I'd brought my novel (White Teeth by Zadie Smith; it's brilliant) to read because I have nothing to do if not my PhD and I don't feel like doing it anymore. So lastly: I've more or less fully recovered from the injury. I ran 12km today and it was horrible but at least I'm running, I guess. I'm not looking forward to the half-marathon this Sunday...having avoided running on anything but a track since I got back into running, the concrete/roads are not doing my legs any favours. My legs were in quite a lot of pain today; not sure if it was just the hardness of the surface, or the lingering effects of tennis last night, or a combination of everything, or just an excuse. Oh well, we'll see how it goes on Sunday, etc.
Tags: e, life, phd, running
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 0 comments