Gillian Polack's Blog, page 291
October 15, 2010
gillpolack @ 2010-10-16T00:09:00
Today has been full of things that needed big attention. I don't know if I have achieved anything yet, though. I might know next week, when the answers to all the emails and documents start geeting responses.
I do know that I checked 20 books for research and for teaching prep. This sounds so much more impressive than it really is - these are all books I know pretty well. Some of them will be useful to take into class on Tuesday, but I got precisely 5 notes for my novel *and* my dissertation combined from all those books. A lot of work for a very small number of notes. And all those books mean that I've checked precisely 2 shelves of my own library. Not two whacking great bookshelves, but two 4 foot long stretches of book. Two out of fifteen, in fact. Which is why I'm doing the research alongside the teaching preparation: I'm a lazy sod and don't want to check the same books twice.
I'm hoping that my manual of demonology will magically appear as I check books for various things (I need that manual!), but so far all I have discovered is that I need to sort everything before I put it back. I don't know what order I thought I was putting my books in, but it's none that I recognise.
You know when things feel so much under pressure that you either have to give something up or work at triple the pace? Well, my solution to this is to complete things. Even if they're little things, it means less stuff to face and my deadlines don't seem such a bother. Since there's going to be yet another weather change tonight (my neck tells me so, and my neck never lies) I'm going to make a nice big cup of spiced tea and see if I can polish off something cookbookish. If I can get one chapter done every three weeks (and I've already pulled the material together - it's just a matter of...er...writing the thing, and getting the recipes sorted and beautiful), I'll finish the first draft by the due date. Some of the chapters will be a breeze and others will be rather more difficult. I have a rule that I can't work on the cookbook until I've done at least 5 hours on my doctorate and dealt with anything super urgent. Well, both the latter have been achieved today, so it's foodietime!
This reminds me - not many food recipes to test for the banquet next year, but I do want to make a cocktail list. We *need* a cocktail list. There is clear evidence of people drinking cocktails when on Zeppelins. I'm not ready to test yet, but if anyone wants to help, watch this space. I was thinking that November/December would be a good time to test, being the time of year that lends itself ot such things.
I do know that I checked 20 books for research and for teaching prep. This sounds so much more impressive than it really is - these are all books I know pretty well. Some of them will be useful to take into class on Tuesday, but I got precisely 5 notes for my novel *and* my dissertation combined from all those books. A lot of work for a very small number of notes. And all those books mean that I've checked precisely 2 shelves of my own library. Not two whacking great bookshelves, but two 4 foot long stretches of book. Two out of fifteen, in fact. Which is why I'm doing the research alongside the teaching preparation: I'm a lazy sod and don't want to check the same books twice.
I'm hoping that my manual of demonology will magically appear as I check books for various things (I need that manual!), but so far all I have discovered is that I need to sort everything before I put it back. I don't know what order I thought I was putting my books in, but it's none that I recognise.
You know when things feel so much under pressure that you either have to give something up or work at triple the pace? Well, my solution to this is to complete things. Even if they're little things, it means less stuff to face and my deadlines don't seem such a bother. Since there's going to be yet another weather change tonight (my neck tells me so, and my neck never lies) I'm going to make a nice big cup of spiced tea and see if I can polish off something cookbookish. If I can get one chapter done every three weeks (and I've already pulled the material together - it's just a matter of...er...writing the thing, and getting the recipes sorted and beautiful), I'll finish the first draft by the due date. Some of the chapters will be a breeze and others will be rather more difficult. I have a rule that I can't work on the cookbook until I've done at least 5 hours on my doctorate and dealt with anything super urgent. Well, both the latter have been achieved today, so it's foodietime!
This reminds me - not many food recipes to test for the banquet next year, but I do want to make a cocktail list. We *need* a cocktail list. There is clear evidence of people drinking cocktails when on Zeppelins. I'm not ready to test yet, but if anyone wants to help, watch this space. I was thinking that November/December would be a good time to test, being the time of year that lends itself ot such things.
October 14, 2010
gillpolack @ 2010-10-15T10:51:00
I meant to post yesterday, but things happened.
What did you miss by me not posting? Well, I finally worked out what the weather was like (in a general sense) in 1305. I also worked out that we were going to get more rain here, so I got through a pile of stuff in case that meant migraines today. It didn't, thank goodness (panadeine is my friend, though) but today is one of those days when people email me and need more information about things that require work, and I never did quite finish everything I had to do yesterday. At least I don't have time to get up to mischief.
Oh, and I explored my family history a bit. My brother-in-law discovered that I am descended from a convict called Lemon and I wanted to read the documents R found. What I especially love is that my great-grandmother was actually born during Lemon's trial. She was the ninth child.
My great-great-grandmother was a totally indomitable woman, but a bit of an innocent. We know this from another trial record my brother-in-law unearthed - the trial of the con man (convicted - 14 years sentence) who took lots of money from my great-great-grandmother with the excuse of setting up the petition process that would free my great-great-grandfather. My favourite part of her testimony is "I thought he was doing the perfect thing that was right - I have walked the streets for my children three days in slippers - this has hurt me more than the conviction of my husband did." My great-great-grandmother had a very distinctive voice, didn't she? We don't know what happened next, legally, but we do know that my great-great-grandfather was able to sire a last child (to make a round ten) before he died in Aldgate and that the family came to Melbourne after his death (so between 1849 and 1858).
Clara lived fifty years beyond this trial record. My brother-in-law also found a newspaper report saying that she lived in Lonsdale Street in 1884 and had just had an accident, had broken both her legs and, at 84, was not expected to live ( http://trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/8563162?searchTerm=%22Clara%20cohen%22&searchLimits= ). She did live - until 1899.
I need to make her madeira cake someday, and think of her, now that I know more. My aunt gave me my great-great-grandmother's madeira cake recipe, many years ago.
I need to find out if Lemon Cohen's conviction was finally quashed, but I ran out of time.
While playing with British records (following my broither-in-law's leads), I found a nice 19th century will for my worldbuilding class and possibly a family history class later on. By 'nice' I mean almost unreadable: the idea is to exlore some of the problems of using untouched untranscribed primary sources when writing fiction. If I had used a fourteenth century will then the language barriers would have instantly been the single biggest problem, which is why I'm using a 19th century one.
I've a whole new list of books to check for the novel and my dissertation and I've worked out the way I'm going to handle them in my literature review. I've also worked out I need to speak to growers of wine grapes and olives, but only if they farm in a karst region in a fairly dry climate. Fortuantely there is such a region near here, or I could put it on my list of things to do if I get to France next year. If anyone knows local grapepeople/olivepeople (since the Canberra region is where it's at for the soil types I need - not Berriedale, though - more Murrumbateman down to the Southern Highlands) and feel like a day trip, I am your new best friend. Or I could talk to the nice olivepeople next time I get to a farmers' market.
I'd better make myself some coffee and get back to all this work.
What did you miss by me not posting? Well, I finally worked out what the weather was like (in a general sense) in 1305. I also worked out that we were going to get more rain here, so I got through a pile of stuff in case that meant migraines today. It didn't, thank goodness (panadeine is my friend, though) but today is one of those days when people email me and need more information about things that require work, and I never did quite finish everything I had to do yesterday. At least I don't have time to get up to mischief.
Oh, and I explored my family history a bit. My brother-in-law discovered that I am descended from a convict called Lemon and I wanted to read the documents R found. What I especially love is that my great-grandmother was actually born during Lemon's trial. She was the ninth child.
My great-great-grandmother was a totally indomitable woman, but a bit of an innocent. We know this from another trial record my brother-in-law unearthed - the trial of the con man (convicted - 14 years sentence) who took lots of money from my great-great-grandmother with the excuse of setting up the petition process that would free my great-great-grandfather. My favourite part of her testimony is "I thought he was doing the perfect thing that was right - I have walked the streets for my children three days in slippers - this has hurt me more than the conviction of my husband did." My great-great-grandmother had a very distinctive voice, didn't she? We don't know what happened next, legally, but we do know that my great-great-grandfather was able to sire a last child (to make a round ten) before he died in Aldgate and that the family came to Melbourne after his death (so between 1849 and 1858).
Clara lived fifty years beyond this trial record. My brother-in-law also found a newspaper report saying that she lived in Lonsdale Street in 1884 and had just had an accident, had broken both her legs and, at 84, was not expected to live ( http://trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/8563162?searchTerm=%22Clara%20cohen%22&searchLimits= ). She did live - until 1899.
I need to make her madeira cake someday, and think of her, now that I know more. My aunt gave me my great-great-grandmother's madeira cake recipe, many years ago.
I need to find out if Lemon Cohen's conviction was finally quashed, but I ran out of time.
While playing with British records (following my broither-in-law's leads), I found a nice 19th century will for my worldbuilding class and possibly a family history class later on. By 'nice' I mean almost unreadable: the idea is to exlore some of the problems of using untouched untranscribed primary sources when writing fiction. If I had used a fourteenth century will then the language barriers would have instantly been the single biggest problem, which is why I'm using a 19th century one.
I've a whole new list of books to check for the novel and my dissertation and I've worked out the way I'm going to handle them in my literature review. I've also worked out I need to speak to growers of wine grapes and olives, but only if they farm in a karst region in a fairly dry climate. Fortuantely there is such a region near here, or I could put it on my list of things to do if I get to France next year. If anyone knows local grapepeople/olivepeople (since the Canberra region is where it's at for the soil types I need - not Berriedale, though - more Murrumbateman down to the Southern Highlands) and feel like a day trip, I am your new best friend. Or I could talk to the nice olivepeople next time I get to a farmers' market.
I'd better make myself some coffee and get back to all this work.
October 13, 2010
Mental Health Week
I got home a bit late after teaching this morning because basically we all (staf and students) locked up the ofice for a little and went to visit Tuggeranong Library. There, in beauteous display, was the work of my students. There's a small display (same pieces, but fewer of them) in the Belconnen Community Centre. They'll be on display at Tuggers til midday next Wednesday.
There was supposed to be a free sausage sizzle today in Glebe Park, but this is the wettest day in months, so I suspect it was not well-attended. I've got myself drench through twice already, and half-drenched two more times. I feel like a sheep.
Tomorrow there are a bunch of activities, from an open forum at the National Press Club, to a Trivia Night. You can find out about some activities here: http://www.mentalhealth.org.au/index.php?option=com_jevents&task=week.listevents&Itemid=43&year=2010&month=10&day=12
And now I must go. A meeting is nigh...
There was supposed to be a free sausage sizzle today in Glebe Park, but this is the wettest day in months, so I suspect it was not well-attended. I've got myself drench through twice already, and half-drenched two more times. I feel like a sheep.
Tomorrow there are a bunch of activities, from an open forum at the National Press Club, to a Trivia Night. You can find out about some activities here: http://www.mentalhealth.org.au/index.php?option=com_jevents&task=week.listevents&Itemid=43&year=2010&month=10&day=12
And now I must go. A meeting is nigh...
October 12, 2010
gillpolack @ 2010-10-13T08:42:00
My weather sense is still impeccably accurate, but I forgot to come online before last night's very interesting set of storms and let friends know they were coming. I knew from about 8 pm, too, so I have no excuse.
Instead of giving a storm warning, what I did was consider Medieval building techniques and how they would look to a modern person watching them. My carefully considered conclusion? It would really depend on the modern person. Also on the type of building. Now what I want is an early fourteenth century brick wall in Saint-Guilhem-le-Desert. My task of the early afternoon will be to find such a wall, since this morning is teaching-in-the-rain.
Instead of giving a storm warning, what I did was consider Medieval building techniques and how they would look to a modern person watching them. My carefully considered conclusion? It would really depend on the modern person. Also on the type of building. Now what I want is an early fourteenth century brick wall in Saint-Guilhem-le-Desert. My task of the early afternoon will be to find such a wall, since this morning is teaching-in-the-rain.
gillpolack @ 2010-10-12T13:05:00
Behind the scenes work has begun on the Conflux banquet for next year. My early reaction to everything is "Wow." We are so going to end the banquet sequence in style!!!
October 11, 2010
Sutherland
Joan Sutherland is gone. I saw her perform when I lived in Sydney, but that's not why I'm so sad. She changed a lot about Australia's understanding of opera. When she sang at her best, she was extraordinary. All these things are wonderful, but again, not why I shall mourn her.
Let me backtrack.
In my twenties and thirties my life was very mildly speckled with people whose names I vaguely knew (or, in the case of Sutherland and Elms whose names I knew very well) saying "You're Linda's cousin - give her our regards next time you see her, please." The thing that I remember most is something one of these colleagues and friends of Linda said once. It was an aside, not a complaint, but it should have been a complaint. It should have been a raging fume of volcanic anger. It wasn't. It was just something that this musician had to live with. Something that hurt.
Australian culture tends to choose its heroes. Honour for achievement is not a given here. Sports people or those who have done great physical feats or survived terrific emotional burdens are more likely to get emotional support for their work than anyone in the Arts. Sutherland and her colleagues were in the Arts. They lived arduous and public lives. Most of the time for most of them it may possibly have been a relief to come back to Australia and discover the toilet paper had run out and that the kids were temperamental because the tour had disrupted their lives. Normalcy is a good thing, I suspect, overall.
The thing is, though, that Australia didn't really offer normalcy to world-famous opera singers or brilliant painters or Nobel-prize winning writers. The message these artists received if they dared talk about audiences or interpretation or - God forbid - awards was that they were up themselves and needed to get a real job. There was a chasm between what they did for a living and what they were allowed to bring back home. Private lives had to be mundane and to be seen to be mundane.
Joan Sutherland helped change this. She changed a lot of things.
It's now OK to work in the Arts. When I say I write people tell me of the novel they're working on and don't often say "Vade retro" or "Get a real job" or "Children will knock that nonsense out of you." People in the Arts are still expected to have due modesty and to let other people do the talking (which has led to a real problem with what a friend calls 'gatekeepers') but at least I don't have to pretend to be a person I'm not. I can be myself in all aspects of my life.
In the sixties there was an exodus of writers and painters and musicians (mostly to London) because it really is hard to live in a place where your capacity to make a living at the work you love ranges from difficult to impossible and where people around you act as if they despise you for doing that work.
The funny thing is that there wasn't a great deal of true despite in all that social pressure. Mostly it was a cultural attitude, where the good and great aren't allowed to know or admit they're good and great. It left (and still leaves - don't ask about our Federal Arts budget!!) many arts practitioners without physical or emotional support. Careers in the Arts are chancy. Everyday life can be difficult. Compared with some years back, though, it's a doddle. Artists like Sutherland had to separate their public and private selves almost completely if they wanted even to visit their homeland.
Despite all this, Sutherland gave a vast amount to Australian music and musicians. A friend of mine was mentored by her, which is when I found out (in the eighties) that Sutherland didn't let the personal hurt which I rather suspect she suffered get in the way of helping others. If she didn't suffer the hurt, then her soul would have been made of iron. She didn't sing as if her soul was made of iron.
All this is in my past. I'm taking a moment to miss her. Not the her I talked to just that once (when I gave her cheek and finger food, and she laughed and was very gracious and sent her regards to my cousin) but the her that was a major force in making Australia a place where writers and musicians and artists of all sorts can live.
Let me backtrack.
In my twenties and thirties my life was very mildly speckled with people whose names I vaguely knew (or, in the case of Sutherland and Elms whose names I knew very well) saying "You're Linda's cousin - give her our regards next time you see her, please." The thing that I remember most is something one of these colleagues and friends of Linda said once. It was an aside, not a complaint, but it should have been a complaint. It should have been a raging fume of volcanic anger. It wasn't. It was just something that this musician had to live with. Something that hurt.
Australian culture tends to choose its heroes. Honour for achievement is not a given here. Sports people or those who have done great physical feats or survived terrific emotional burdens are more likely to get emotional support for their work than anyone in the Arts. Sutherland and her colleagues were in the Arts. They lived arduous and public lives. Most of the time for most of them it may possibly have been a relief to come back to Australia and discover the toilet paper had run out and that the kids were temperamental because the tour had disrupted their lives. Normalcy is a good thing, I suspect, overall.
The thing is, though, that Australia didn't really offer normalcy to world-famous opera singers or brilliant painters or Nobel-prize winning writers. The message these artists received if they dared talk about audiences or interpretation or - God forbid - awards was that they were up themselves and needed to get a real job. There was a chasm between what they did for a living and what they were allowed to bring back home. Private lives had to be mundane and to be seen to be mundane.
Joan Sutherland helped change this. She changed a lot of things.
It's now OK to work in the Arts. When I say I write people tell me of the novel they're working on and don't often say "Vade retro" or "Get a real job" or "Children will knock that nonsense out of you." People in the Arts are still expected to have due modesty and to let other people do the talking (which has led to a real problem with what a friend calls 'gatekeepers') but at least I don't have to pretend to be a person I'm not. I can be myself in all aspects of my life.
In the sixties there was an exodus of writers and painters and musicians (mostly to London) because it really is hard to live in a place where your capacity to make a living at the work you love ranges from difficult to impossible and where people around you act as if they despise you for doing that work.
The funny thing is that there wasn't a great deal of true despite in all that social pressure. Mostly it was a cultural attitude, where the good and great aren't allowed to know or admit they're good and great. It left (and still leaves - don't ask about our Federal Arts budget!!) many arts practitioners without physical or emotional support. Careers in the Arts are chancy. Everyday life can be difficult. Compared with some years back, though, it's a doddle. Artists like Sutherland had to separate their public and private selves almost completely if they wanted even to visit their homeland.
Despite all this, Sutherland gave a vast amount to Australian music and musicians. A friend of mine was mentored by her, which is when I found out (in the eighties) that Sutherland didn't let the personal hurt which I rather suspect she suffered get in the way of helping others. If she didn't suffer the hurt, then her soul would have been made of iron. She didn't sing as if her soul was made of iron.
All this is in my past. I'm taking a moment to miss her. Not the her I talked to just that once (when I gave her cheek and finger food, and she laughed and was very gracious and sent her regards to my cousin) but the her that was a major force in making Australia a place where writers and musicians and artists of all sorts can live.
gillpolack @ 2010-10-11T21:46:00
Today was all about eyes and oranges. My eyes were checked (they feel very well-checked right now) and I bought some really lovely oranges.
This is the time of year I want to get to the markets and get a huge bag of navels: they're large and sweet and simply perfect. They're not easy to carry, though, so without a car I just buy a few to take the edge off the desire.
I also marinated another couple of bowls of mushrooms, since I'm still in the mood for them and the supermarket that had the gorgeous oranges also had baby mushrooms at $2 for a big bag.
I did other stuff. I'm sure I did other stuff. Worktypestuff. I have about an hour of emails to send later, to catch up with things that got forgotten under the influence of the virus, but I can't do that until I catch up on the work I know I didn't do today (as opposed to the work I think I might have done). I have a big, big stack of notes to be sorted for computerisation and writing up tomorrow. The fact that those notes are sitting on a desk, looming ominously (it's a very big pile and they were either going to loom ominously or teeter and they made a personal choice to loom ominously) means I haven't done them yet.
I had a big insight this morning. I've had this insight before, but I forgot I'd had it. This is the kind of day it is.
The history people associate with historians (which is not necessarily the history of historians at all) is not at all the history novelists need. That's old hat. I didn't realise (or re-realise), though, until considering Michael Crichton's bibliography, how much falling into a into a common belief of what history is/was/should be can lead noveslist astray. Crichton, for instance, has more about the politics of England than about the social hierarchy and interactions for his actual setting. By 'more' I mean...well, that the lack of the second amused me. The focus of his worldbuilding was awry, which is why his history doesn't convince me despite a ton of research demosntrated in his bibliography (which contained some of my favourite books, BTW).
I was going to test that thesis today and tomorrow by re-reading the book closely. But I can't. No time until later in the week. Watch me weep and wail and gnash my teeth. Or smile in relief. Either or both are possible.
The more I progress in my life the more I realise that it's never the quantity or even the quality of research (though both are laudable) but the focus and how well the research has been thought out that counts. Should I research this? No, I shall sort my notes and diminish the amount of loomingness in my existence. I shall also drink spice tea. I'm multiskilled.
This is the time of year I want to get to the markets and get a huge bag of navels: they're large and sweet and simply perfect. They're not easy to carry, though, so without a car I just buy a few to take the edge off the desire.
I also marinated another couple of bowls of mushrooms, since I'm still in the mood for them and the supermarket that had the gorgeous oranges also had baby mushrooms at $2 for a big bag.
I did other stuff. I'm sure I did other stuff. Worktypestuff. I have about an hour of emails to send later, to catch up with things that got forgotten under the influence of the virus, but I can't do that until I catch up on the work I know I didn't do today (as opposed to the work I think I might have done). I have a big, big stack of notes to be sorted for computerisation and writing up tomorrow. The fact that those notes are sitting on a desk, looming ominously (it's a very big pile and they were either going to loom ominously or teeter and they made a personal choice to loom ominously) means I haven't done them yet.
I had a big insight this morning. I've had this insight before, but I forgot I'd had it. This is the kind of day it is.
The history people associate with historians (which is not necessarily the history of historians at all) is not at all the history novelists need. That's old hat. I didn't realise (or re-realise), though, until considering Michael Crichton's bibliography, how much falling into a into a common belief of what history is/was/should be can lead noveslist astray. Crichton, for instance, has more about the politics of England than about the social hierarchy and interactions for his actual setting. By 'more' I mean...well, that the lack of the second amused me. The focus of his worldbuilding was awry, which is why his history doesn't convince me despite a ton of research demosntrated in his bibliography (which contained some of my favourite books, BTW).
I was going to test that thesis today and tomorrow by re-reading the book closely. But I can't. No time until later in the week. Watch me weep and wail and gnash my teeth. Or smile in relief. Either or both are possible.
The more I progress in my life the more I realise that it's never the quantity or even the quality of research (though both are laudable) but the focus and how well the research has been thought out that counts. Should I research this? No, I shall sort my notes and diminish the amount of loomingness in my existence. I shall also drink spice tea. I'm multiskilled.
October 10, 2010
gillpolack @ 2010-10-10T16:17:00
I had a list for today, but I lost it. Such is life.
I've missed Floriade. Such is life.
I found my list for yesterday and didn't do anything on it. I finished my close analysis of a particular writer for the dissertation-thingie, though. Such is Gillian's life.
I can see a big paper sort in my immediate future. I know that the most recent one I did was quite recently, but my to-do lists keep getting eaten by the paper swarm and I'm in danger of sound like Ned Kelly. Also, I've located libraries for some books and if I read them I can create a whole new paper swarm and set the paper swarms to war with each other and blame my untidy loungerooom on the paper swarm wars. While they fight I shall settle into the kitchen and cook.
This sounds very good. I shall create more notes, forthwith.
I've missed Floriade. Such is life.
I found my list for yesterday and didn't do anything on it. I finished my close analysis of a particular writer for the dissertation-thingie, though. Such is Gillian's life.
I can see a big paper sort in my immediate future. I know that the most recent one I did was quite recently, but my to-do lists keep getting eaten by the paper swarm and I'm in danger of sound like Ned Kelly. Also, I've located libraries for some books and if I read them I can create a whole new paper swarm and set the paper swarms to war with each other and blame my untidy loungerooom on the paper swarm wars. While they fight I shall settle into the kitchen and cook.
This sounds very good. I shall create more notes, forthwith.
October 9, 2010
gillpolack @ 2010-10-09T16:28:00
Today I've been playing with LAMOP. One page of LAMOP is particularly distracting. I give it to you so that you, too, can be diverted from your many true endeavours: http://lamop.univ-paris1.fr/spip.php?rubrique81
Actually (and more seriously) the work of Monique Bourin has made my week a great deal happier (which is why I can stop for a bit and play with LAMOP). Somehow, over the last twenty or thirty years, she knew that I would need a precise study of key aspects of Languedoc society in the Middle Ages now and so she has provided that study. Three times already (Monday and yesterday and today), she has provided that study and I'm only a fraction of the way through her work on subjects related to my own work.
I know much more about how everyday life was managed and what the status of various souls would be. I can fit my characters so much more clearly into their surroundings that plot points are starting to wave 'Look, I'm here.' If I ever get to meet her, I so want to buy her dinner.
Actually (and more seriously) the work of Monique Bourin has made my week a great deal happier (which is why I can stop for a bit and play with LAMOP). Somehow, over the last twenty or thirty years, she knew that I would need a precise study of key aspects of Languedoc society in the Middle Ages now and so she has provided that study. Three times already (Monday and yesterday and today), she has provided that study and I'm only a fraction of the way through her work on subjects related to my own work.
I know much more about how everyday life was managed and what the status of various souls would be. I can fit my characters so much more clearly into their surroundings that plot points are starting to wave 'Look, I'm here.' If I ever get to meet her, I so want to buy her dinner.
October 8, 2010
gillpolack @ 2010-10-08T22:00:00
Today I've done a great deal of sleeping and not much else. I suspect that I finally admitted that the virus I've had on and off for nearly two weeks isn't going to fade if I don't give it a chance. And so I am getting a bit better then a bit better still and one day I shall look around and there will be no more virus.
I've had great dreams with all this extra sleeping. I explained them to my long-suffering mother and she commented that I think just as much in my dreams as I do when I'm awake. This is only a problem for those who stop and listen to stories about my dreams. She didn't say that, however. She was just a bit concerned that my brain doesn't appear to have an off-switch.
My favourite dream of my otherwise-wasted day gave me a complete analysis of the structure of reviewers and their circles in Australia. I can't give you the analysis because there are elements of it that are...not tactful. It was a very funny dream, however, and whenever I see certain names I shall giggle. Their actions were purely symbolic in my dream but oh, so accurate.
I've had great dreams with all this extra sleeping. I explained them to my long-suffering mother and she commented that I think just as much in my dreams as I do when I'm awake. This is only a problem for those who stop and listen to stories about my dreams. She didn't say that, however. She was just a bit concerned that my brain doesn't appear to have an off-switch.
My favourite dream of my otherwise-wasted day gave me a complete analysis of the structure of reviewers and their circles in Australia. I can't give you the analysis because there are elements of it that are...not tactful. It was a very funny dream, however, and whenever I see certain names I shall giggle. Their actions were purely symbolic in my dream but oh, so accurate.
