Weeknotes 238

A low-energy week, busy and occasionally dispiriting, yet we soldier onward.

I definitely underestimated the impact of COVID. I now realise that a negative test result doesn’t mean I’m magically healthy again. Everything is taking more exertion than usual and I haven’t been able to summon the energy to go back to the gym even once. I’m improving slowly and with any luck I’ll be properly recovered soon.

On Tuesday afternoon I defied my strict 1pm cutoff and drank some caffeine to get me through the rest of the workday, with the predictable result that I lay awake until 2am feeling cross and regretful. On Wednesday I went to bed at 8pm, fell asleep instantly and slept for 11 hours.

I met Mike for dinner while he was in town. I hadn’t seen him in person for almost exactly two years so it was a real treat to get to hang out. Unfortunately I suggested Club Mexicana without realising it would be Taco Tuesday: normal menu suspended, all-you-can-eat tacos for £20 instead. I never usually order tacos but this offer creates a degree of pressure to make the most of it, and so anyway, because of capitalism, I had no choice but to eat nine tacos and they were delicious.

Last night I just about made it to Hackney Empire for the Relay tenth anniversary live show. It was more low-key than I’d expected: almost two hours of podcast hosts saying nouns, and very little else, which felt like a missed opportunity. Even doing that much was probably a logistical nightmare but part of me wishes they’d made better use of the various personalities after flying them over from the US. Oh well, it was local, cheap and genial and it got me out of the house.

I watched the first two episodes of Lady in the Lake and they were quite good. Natalie Portman is great so I intend to stick with it for now and see where it goes.

Continuing the lady theme, I finished off the first season of We Are Lady Parts after a bit of a break. I found it pretty likeable all the way through. Season two got good reviews so I’ll probably give it a shot.

I also watched the first episode of Sunny. I’m not sure exactly what it’s about yet, but so far it’s enjoyable just to see Rashida Jones moping around Kyoto being horrible to people and robots.

I’m a relatively patient man when it comes to slow-burn drama, but House of the Dragon is really starting to drag. The last few episodes have been almost entirely table-setting, with all the characters separately spinning their wheels in different locations and the main entertainment being to see how many times per episode Alicent Hightower can make that haunted frog face. They only have two episodes left this season so they’d better pick up the pace soon.

It’s been two decades since I started a PhD, and three years less since my funding ran out and I had to get a job instead. It’s a comforting fantasy to imagine I’ll eventually return, submit and graduate like some kind of pound shop Brian May. But realistically it’s never going to happen, not least because I don’t value the qualification itself; I already got what I wanted out of the experience (e.g. the opportunity to teach) and don’t intend to pursue a research career so I’ve no intrinsic motivation to follow through on the soul-destroying process of finishing & defending my thesis.

Still, denial is powerful, and all these years I’ve doggedly held onto archive boxes filled with notes, papers and other materials from my time as a graduate student because maybe, one day, I might choose to dust them off and complete my research. After all, why risk closing a door for good when it’s possible to leave it slightly ajar indefinitely?

I’ll tell you why: because space is tight in my small flat and I can’t justify storing reams of worthless documents for the sole purpose of soothing some unidentified psychological deficiency. This week I finally got the red mist, accepted the inevitable and slung everything into the recycling, disintegrated fragments of noughties-era biodegradable carrier bags fluttering in my wake.

It did feel a bit sad to finally admit defeat and/or accept reality, but it was also cathartic and, most importantly, I can now open my boiler cupboard without a huge pile of junk toppling out onto me. Is this 🦋 personal growth?

At the time it felt like such an unalloyed gift to get five whole years without the Olympics, but now the bill has come due: only three years without the Olympics.