My good mood didn’t last very long. By lunchtime on Sunday, I could sense a looming feeling of frustration and it continued to build for the rest of the day until I was well and truly sulking by bedtime. I’d had a really nice evening in Bristol with Chris’s family on Saturday and was sensible and drove home, forcing me to stick to lime and sodas all night. But I was still exhausted in the morning and slept in, which didn’t exactly get me off to a great start, work-wise. And then I spent the day faffing about and allowing myself to be distracted by anything and everything.
What makes me really mad is that it is entirely my own fault. But I had that kind of paralysing panic about my workload (and specifically my dissertation for some reason). Panic can sometimes be motivating. At other times, I guess it just makes you shut down and pretend it isn’t happening. And another excuse – I’m finding the very distant deadline (November) almost unreal and still haven’t really acknowledged that there is more than enough work to do to fill that time. On Saturday night, I dreamt that I bumped into my dissertation tutor (the terrifyingly fierce Janet Askew) and she gave me a bollocking for not having sent her any work yet. It is obviously weighing on my mind…
I didn’t sleep well last night and I’m so tired today I can barely keep my eyes open. Chris tells me I was kicking and humming (quite an upbeat tune, apparently, although he couldn’t identify it). I don’t remember it or remember dreaming anything that might have caused me to be so restless. Things are generally going well for me at the moment but even so I feel…well, I can’t quite put my finger on it. Not quite happy.
(Apologies to my more sensitive male readers for the following paragraph.) It reminds me a little of how I felt when I was 17 and my life was dominated by pretty dreadful PMT. At that time, I was prescribed the contraceptive pill and it changed my life and made it bearable for friends and family to spend time with me. Just over a year ago, I stopped taking it because of my rising blood pressure and regular migraines and, well, I’m back to being 17 again (although the paranoia has gone – or maybe I’m just dealing a little better with it these days).
Up and down. Up and down.
Also, there was a great debate on public art on Radio 4 this morning (and by “great” I mean “laughable”) and I was going to write about that instead. But this just sort of took over.