stuff

A dissertation saps all will for all activity save the most flippant. I have lost all capacity to do anything that qualifies as "productive" because, like an abused animal, I want nothing more than to escape the gauntleted fist that keeps smacking me about. To wit, writing has been utterly difficult for me this last year. When I write anything, I feel guilty that I'm not writing the dissertation. When I write this blog, even now, I feel like I'm selfishly wasting time on what essentially doesn't matter at all. Who am I that anyone should read anything I write. I'm not dying of cancer. I'm not converting to Buhdhihsm (can't spell that. There's an H in there somewhere) and so to tell you my condition or my thoughts is so utterly mundane as to make the act of it worthless.

Hi all. I, like so many others, lead a rather dull life. Its not even interesting for being miserable because, unfortunately for you all, I'm also rather content...blah.

Likewise, I cannot read. Reading smacks too much of something I should be doing and so I pick up book after book, which I don't read, and won't read. Like the soldier who becomes a gardner from having seen "too much," I too, want to get away from the horror. Why don't people write good books that are easy to read?

So...here is what I actually have been doing.


I am now the proud owner of a Necron, Dark Eldar, and Ork army for Warhammer 40k. I am painting these. I am making scenery for 40k which isn't selling very well on Ebay. I am trying to start up a Dungeons and Dragons group. I am editing my finished first draft of my dissertation. I am trying not to care that no member of my dissertation committee has read anything I've written since I started handing them stuff to read almost a year ago. I am playing quite a lot of Left 4 Dead. I am playing quite a load of Boulderdash Treasures. I am eating Chili. I make very good Chili. I have all the songs from The Philidelphia Chickens stuck in my head perpetually.