Narrative narcissism

My biggest downfall as a human being may be my infallible optimism. I genuinely believed that as soon as I went back to uni, I would do some work. I genuinely believed that a month off work would allow me some extra time to do this work. I genuinely believed buying a laptop was step one in starting my dissertation. But, in all cases, I was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

I feel completely out of my depth in terms of writing a dissertation – even after a month of contemplation, I can’t settle on a question. I can’t properly force myself into reading, for some reason. In fact, outwith my dissertation and the occasional (!) newspaper, I have stopped reading altogether. That lightweight hardback Joni Mitchell biography has lay on my floor for weeks without even being opened, and I can’t even find Tolstoy anymore.

Work is even worse: I had my first shift back after the seemingly-never-ending-fiesta on Saturday night. I got dressed listening to The Rolling Stones and my body acted like I was taking it out for a drink. Idiot. My hands were not ready for going back either: I managed to smash a pint glass. How disheartening!

My body, by the way, has suffered quite severely over the course of my holiday. Not, as you may expect, my liver, specifically (although the mild codeine relapse will soon take care of that); but my stomach. I have got into the habit of eating as if I had a gastric band. I don’t, and never have, had an actual eating disorder, but I do have an easily satisfied stomach. I’m down to one or two meals a day (usually beans on toast: holiday has turned my palette into that of a student – plus I’m lazy), which makes me cranky, easily annoyed, an absolute lightweight, require more sleep than I actually should need and, most importantly, unable to concentrate on work!

Thus, my post-holiday resolution is to eat more! Today, I have eaten what passes as a balanced breakfast (lamb chops and a nutella sandwich is balanced, right?). The result, one can only assume, is this blog. Give it a few days and I will be tearing through my dissertation.

That or in hospital, having my stomach pumped of chocolate and dead animal.

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