Just a few days after the semester crashed to a halt, I find myself very weary of it all, and not in the way I expected.
I am tired of everything in my closet. I am tired of my haircut. And above all, I am tired of listening to myself think.
My solution to this? Get back into a martial art. Because clearly, if I have the mental energy to be tired of everything, I am not having the crap kicked out of me nearly often enough.
I realize this solution is something of a nonsequitor. Really, it would probably make as much sense to, I don’t know, procure new clothing or drink until I stop thinking. But clothing here is stupid expensive, and I am pretty sure I don’t want to deal with the aftermath of drinking enough to stop thinking.
And really, I am feeling restless and reckless. I want to do something to get dirty and sweaty and bruised. (I’m constantly cut up and bruised here anyway–I might as well be cut up and bruised for a fun reason, as opposed to the lame reasons I normally have.) The muddy frisbee game a couple Sundays past (pictures forthcoming) reminded me just how little rough and tumble my life as an academic has. (I suspect I did not miss it as much in the States because I was getting tumbled in other ways.)
I’m not sure that I will be able to commit to/afford a martial arts class, because my summer schedule/funding situation is as uncertain as Lady Cleo’s tarot card readings. I have hope that I can find a sparring partner, though–I’ve got a couple of prospects in mind. It would be nice to have someone to call up for a little bit of roughhousing.