Travelling in the land of the impossible
How do I get a question out of my head? There is a question I've been trying not to ask for about a month. It is inappropriate, would cause both myself and the intended askee considerable distress, and - to be frank - I don't really want to know the answer. More accurately, I don't want the askee to answer it, because it is wrong of me to ask.
But it just sits there, in my brain. I've typed it in an unsent e-mail. I've writen it on paper and thrown it away. I've burnt in a candle. I've written pages about why I want to ask, and yet there it sits. Just there.
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In other news, after a terribly frustrating work month, things are finally improving. Fluid Mechanics and Pharmacology and Toxicology posted today. The first only 42 days late, the second 22. Ah well, such is publishing. Now, if we can get physiology posted, we can take a breather for February and figure out what the heck went wrong before the next volume is due in March.
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So far, mostly due to work turning into an energy sink, I haven't done anything I promised to do yet. No excersize, no writing letters, no real journaling, no garden puttering. I know I've been battling sick for a few weeks, and terribly tired. But at the same time, I know I would feel better if I did those things. Especially the writing, to a variety of people. I feel bottled up.
Perhaps more accurately, I feel like a bottle of carbonated something that has been shaken for the past month and a half. I'm a little afraid of what will happen if I puncture the lid. Could be messy. Could be /very/ messy. I will need to fetch paper towels.
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In better news, I just baffled
brooksmoses by asking him what the emotional equivelent of paper towels would be. He said, "I don't know." Somehow I am not shocked.
But it just sits there, in my brain. I've typed it in an unsent e-mail. I've writen it on paper and thrown it away. I've burnt in a candle. I've written pages about why I want to ask, and yet there it sits. Just there.
--------
In other news, after a terribly frustrating work month, things are finally improving. Fluid Mechanics and Pharmacology and Toxicology posted today. The first only 42 days late, the second 22. Ah well, such is publishing. Now, if we can get physiology posted, we can take a breather for February and figure out what the heck went wrong before the next volume is due in March.
--------
So far, mostly due to work turning into an energy sink, I haven't done anything I promised to do yet. No excersize, no writing letters, no real journaling, no garden puttering. I know I've been battling sick for a few weeks, and terribly tired. But at the same time, I know I would feel better if I did those things. Especially the writing, to a variety of people. I feel bottled up.
Perhaps more accurately, I feel like a bottle of carbonated something that has been shaken for the past month and a half. I'm a little afraid of what will happen if I puncture the lid. Could be messy. Could be /very/ messy. I will need to fetch paper towels.
--------
In better news, I just baffled
brooksmoses by asking him what the emotional equivelent of paper towels would be. He said, "I don't know." Somehow I am not shocked.