Pacing the Cage

Took the title from a song I'm listening to just at the moment. Seems appropriate to my current condition. I'm in Cambridge today. Packing somewhat haphazardly, I managed to forget some critical things that would have been useful for me to work on here. Mainly my marked up copy of my internship report that I went through with my supervisor. My goal had been to finish the third draft of this report (and hopefully final) this week. But without my mark up, I can't.

Instead I've been looking at word templates for my first year report. Generally it has a similar structure to a dissertation, so really I've just been looking up templates for that. Most of them are hideous. How can I work on a document I don't find aesthetically pleasing? Luckily I found a template from the Bartlett and have taken that one to work with as a foundation. It's not brilliant, but it's better than most and will have to do for now.

At any rate, what I can do is start on my proper research. I have a 40 page document (give or take) due by the end of November. Actually due earlier- I'll need at least a month of revisions. And I have yet to do most of the research required to write it. Getting the template is the first step as I need to organize my thoughts on the structure. Because I've done an internship and my first year hasn't been 'pure research'[, it's not as straightforward as a typical document and I need to figure out how to work it together. I'm sure it will come together. I'm just conscious of just how much work I have to do in the next couple of months.

This past weekend was my birthday. Usually I do a birthday post. I suppose this is it. I'm 36 now. Over some mystical division of age. It bothers me more than 30 did. Probably 40 will bother me more. Or maybe none of it really bothers me. I just don't like getting old. Getting older is one step closer to dead. And as I am not particularly inclined to being dead, I see this natural progression as somewhat unacceptable. I mean, obviously, it is what it is, but I don't like thinking of mortality, which only seems all the easier the older one gets.

Doing my best to flaunt it however, I spent a very youthful birthday weekend camping in the New Forest. That was loads of fun. I got to use my tent properly and commune with the outdoors. Of course me and the outdoors aren't the best of friends and I have to say that my skin, while not good before I went, did it's best to tell me just how much me and the outdoors aren't friends. This week I'm stuck on an extreme regimen of antihistamines and steroid creams as well as regular body lotion to do my best to get the beastly organ under control. I've made an appointment to see my GP Monday. I should have done this sooner perhaps, but I'm not at home so much these days and it's difficult. At any rate, I'm hoping for a dermatology referral, but we'll see.

Back to birthday camping. There were tents. And delicious food. H, my camping pal, cooked a feast of food from the Ottolenghi cookbooks to bring with. This included char grilled broccoli with almonds and chili and garlic, eggplant with saffron sauce and pomegranate, a garlic and goats cheese tart, and white chocolate and raspberry tartlets. We ate very, very well.

We also brought H's horse along in a trailer. So they went off riding in the New Forest every morning while I lounged around reading and then we wandered around in the afternoon. One day I took my bike out with them and went cycling through the New Forest. That was good. It had been raining off and on, so it was cooler and there weren't so many bugs out. Proper use for my little mountain bike. I even forged a stream. Twice. Have some good photos all on Facebook now. Proving that on occasion, I can 'do' the outdoors.

But I'm glad to be back now. Or at least, my skin is definitely glad to be back now. It really is completely ridiculous how badly it flared. How bad it's been all year. How it's spread out of it's usual areas to wider patches. How ugly it makes me feel. Above and beyond anything else about it, that's by far the worst. Nothing like big red blotches on yourself to make you all too aware of your appearance. At least I have a doctor's appointment. On the other hand, there's probably very little they can do for me or tell me about it. But what else can I do?

In the social arm of my life, have plans to see L on Friday. Although with my skin how it is, it's hard to be excited about that as opposed to terribly self conscious. Haven't seen him for two weeks though, so not really wanting to push it off. Still not at all sure what's going on with us. But it's a welcome distraction at the moment. I suppose at some point we have to actually talk about 'what we're doing' but seeing as we talk so little, it hasn't come up yet. To be honest, I'm so distracted with other things at the moment, it's not high on my worry list. Which is probably for the best. If I think about it too much, I have no doubts it will creep up the list, so just as well to not.

Oh, and while I feel restrained and restricted, by lack of being at home, lack of my papers, bad skin, and everything else keeping me from keeping on at the moment, I should also remark that last week I had the meeting with my Industrial Partner and other PhD candidate about our topics and that it went exceptionally well. I got lots of lovely feedback about how put together I seem and well articulated and I got my stake on my topic area of choice.

But all it reminded me of was this conversation I had with a professor/mentor of mine back in grad school who seriously told me off in a hallway once upon a time for not being confident in myself and insisting on looking to others for validation and approval. So all in one day I was lifted up high on others flattery, and then dashed to the rocks by my memories of how I haven't perhaps changed all that much in this particular area in almost ten years.