Well. That was interesting. Three days of thirst, restlessness, fits of depression. Is it that I'm too broke to buy myself a beer? Or that I am in a weird waiting period at the moment, not quite finished with my dissertation ... and about 3 or so weeks till my PhD programme begins. Which is the day after my 32nd birthday--typical! I received a fellowship. That wasn't typical. But, for whatever reason, I knew I'd get it. It's been that crazy a year, and I got through it with plenty of beer, Fox's malted creams, bird-watching, and, hmm, stubbornness.
Of which I have in spades, apparently. It's this chin of mine, like a spade. Stuck out (or stuck up, in the way of the insecure but intelligent), head high, at least in public. My choice of armor - a coat as black and sharply cut as a raven's pair of wings, and fuchsia lipstick. A glare that says, get out my way, or else. (Inside, I'm whipped cream waiting for a bowl of strawberries to make my day.)
So where was I? Ah yes, Stubbornness. It's the thing that has kept me from talking to my ass of a brother for seven years. It's the thing that makes me read 10, TEN, Terry Pratchett novels in a month, even with an unfinished last chapter. It's the thing that keeps me raging at Jim even when I know I should back down, and I sometimes mistake it for bravery and a firm belief in my principles, when perhaps it is because I don't know any better.
I may be broke or hungry due to stubbornness, but at least I am not slowly dying in a job that I hate, or living in a city I hate, enslaved to tradition. (On reflection, it appears I know myself by the things I hate, as opposed to what I love, which is a harder enterprise, no? At least for me. Well, perhaps that's not true, I do know what I love and, for now, all that I love is about 5,000 miles away.)
Anyways, I will stubbornly resist beer for now and finish editing my dissertation. And, afterwards? in that twilight between this project and the next? Maybe some witchery.