The · Journal · of · the · Mad · Indian · Caveman

In fact, a little more than normal; I was singing during Morning Jobs and in one of my classes. My students were most amused when I began to sing songs from My Fair Lady.

In other news, I am now the proud owner of a Dell Inspiron 510m; Dell had a special March offer that was just too good to be true - and since I bought it through the school, I saved on VAT and everything else. So... Typing on the new new laptop right now, and very chuffed with it too! :D :D

And no, getting back to normal had nothing to do with the laptop. Get your minds off the cynical track.

Warning: if anyone reads this, it's not pretty. You have been warned.

First Aid course today... and during bloody CPR I had to do mouth-to-mouth on a dummy, and the instant I sealed my mouth around the plastic it brought back a wave of remembrance and feeling so strong I could feel my heart begin to race, and smell rose in my mouth, I gagged again, and I had to stop. Now I'm just back where I was the day after, seeing it again and again, hearing all the sounds, the clamminess of his lips under mine, the mucus and the smell of feotid vomit that made me choke and cough, and the warm part-rotten smell that rose from his throat as he exhaled... or his body exhaled, at that point. But again, it's all about me, isn't it? It's all ultimately selfish emotion, even the guilt at not being able to do more. I really thought I'd got over this and put it behind me, but there's some sort of scar left, a scar that I'm not even aware of, that creeps up at the worst possible moments. I had to sit alone and quietly during the break, all the emotion swirling in my body again, making me physically sick, and I still feel like that. It's practically neurotic. It's not like he was the first person I saw die; and not the first truma I've been through, but it's stuck to me more than anything else I can recall in my life. I still can't listen to The Boxer without feeling a twinge of it, and if I'm feeling a little vulnerable at the moment, I cry. Simple as that.

I think I need to go for a walk - the universal Brockwood solution to all problems.

Two of them want to quit. This is not good. On the plus side, I am still doing more tutions than I can shake a stick at, so maybe it's not too bad. Note to self: Call Jean-Loup about those external tutions. Grr.

Never, as far as I can remember. I am now the proud owner of

1) My lovely Nike Air trainers, all glued together (and the fis seems permanent)
2) My lovely black, gleaming, polished Hush Puppies, which I am almost scared to dirty by wearing
3) My lovely rugged Columbia trekking boots (bless you, Hil, and a thousand times again)
4) Two pairs of very comfy Quo Vadis sandals
5) And last but not least, the much used and abused rubber slippers

Ok, that's not much compared to people who have 20 pairs and more, but I honestly don't think I will ever need more than this - every occassion is taken care of, from the formal to the everyday to the outdoor. Who could ask for more than that? More pairs of footwear would just get in the way. :p

I really need to kick myself out of bed earlier, but when it's so nice and warm under the sheets and so cold and unfriendly outside, it seems such a shame to get out and do things.

I want to clean at least the lower part of the library before half-term gets over, and I really badly want that laptop for three reasons

a) To be able to talk to people when I want to, without waiting for a computer to get free
b) To see if that Z39.50 implementation for VB actually works, which should revolutionse data entry in Merlin
c) To have all my music in one place!!

Grr! I wish Yakoe's parents would hurry up and get here, or I will be sorely tempted by the HP offers. :p

Or at least pay attention while running, you moron. Do you really want to tear those ligaments again?

It was a damn close thing this morning; luckily nothing more than a bad twist, and more luckily still, on the way back home rather than on the way out, so I was more warmed up. I did have to hobble interestingly halfway back to Inwoods, but a hot shower set everything right in a hurry.

Well, I say hot, but it was really tepid, since the damn heating system at the house is acting up. Tepid is better than downright cold, which is what I had a couple of days ago, though.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to do battle with the dust in the library. Never-ending job, that, and I want to make a dent in the number of shelves over half-term. A big dent. So achoo, and achoo, and cough cough cough.

I feel woozy and generally not-so-happy.

A phone call from the APs would hit the spot just about now, but I can't expect that on a weekday, so I will just sigh, and sit and meditate in front of the fire, listening to Nusrat.

I know I will be fine tomorrow, which is why I'm actually sorta enjoying this feeling.

What sort of term is this? I was just getting into the groove of things, and it's holidays again. Unfortunately, it's only a week, and a lot of the students are here, so it's going to be a slightly crowded holiday in which I will prolly have quite a few classes. Oh well. :)

Point of meteorological interest: a couple of days ago we had
1) Bright blue skies and brilliant sunshine
2) Cold rain
3) Snow
4) Sleet
5) Hail
6) Clouds
7) Mist
8) Fog
9) Howling winds
10) Complete calm

All in one frigging day. I know this is Ye Olde Englande, but this is ridiculous, I think. :p

Life is skittles and life is beer...

Ok, not Tom Lehrer, but spring is definitely on the way. The snowdrops are blooming, the buds are on the trees, the air is fragrant and mild...

yay!

Except it's a definitely sign of global warming when spring comes to England in February, even late February. This sucketh. Large.

But I'm not complaining, although I could definitely do with a little less rain. ;) But that's asking for too much in England, I think.

I think my chance of a Chevening Scholarship is kinda slim, to say the least. Oh well. Cest la vie. I can work my ass off next year if necessary, huh?

I always thought chickens were the stupidest birds in existence, but after meeting pheasants, I'm starting to wonder. This one idiotic bird that I came across this morning didn't do anything but look at me as I walked towards it, so I waved my arms a little bit - still nothing. Then I pretended to throw a stone at it - not a flicker. Then I really did throw a stone at it, but it continued to stare at me like a just barely conscious bundle of feathers. Then I stopped walking and stood still, and it took off in a big huge panic, flapping and squacking like all the huntsmen of England were behind it.

Morons, I tell you. On the other hand, I was about to brush my teeth with a Mach 3 razor yesterday, so who am I to talk?

It's not very often that I feel compelled to tell a student off in no uncertain terms for intolerable behaviour, but I've had to do it twice in the last week. One of them for persistently not turning in work and always being late to class, and the other for being overly familiar with me. I'm quite happy to have a friendly relationship with my students, in fact that is what I hope to do, but I'm damned if I'm going to let my anyone whack me on the butt or give me a nipple-twist - and when he started to grope my crotch yesterday while going past me in the van (incidentally also twisting the earphone socket on my CD player, which now pops and crackles, the idiot) I really let him have it. Anu-temper can be useful at times. I very, very much doubt if he'll be bothering me again. And if he does... well, Anu-temper is always available on tap. I know he behaves like this with everyone, and he thinks it a great big joke, but it's just bloody stupid. How I wish I got to choose my students. Sigh.

/rant

:p

I'm quite cheerful about it, actually. He's had it coming to him from me for a while. :D

This morning I woke up late and groggy, and so I stumbled to the bathroom and groped for my toothbrush and picked it (or what I thought was it) up and put toothpaste on it, and was raising it towards my mouth when I realised something felt funny.

It was my razor.

I need to read less and sleep more. :p

True story, I swear!!

She walks in Beauty

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that 's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light 5
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face; 10
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 15
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron. 1788–1824

Good lord, I do love this poem. I could hear it and read it over and over and over again.

:)

Me happy! Only one more class today, and nice and easy

He could probably charm the hind leg off a donkey, and it's fascinating to watch people fall under his spell. And I'm not immune; wherever he goes he gathers this little knot of people that are all thinking how lucky they are to be talking to him. It's very funny, at one level, and I have to admit I'm a little envious. I wish I could single out the prettiest girl in the room and effortlessly chat to her for hours three minutes after meeting her. That would be a useful skill, that would. Heheh.

Just a little jealous rant. :p

Now I have a Chilean student in my Pre-AS class who doesn't speak a word of English either. Help! I can't speak Spanish, she can't speak English - what the hell am I going to teach? I know she knows the maths, because she recognises the symbols and whatnot, but same problem again.

HEEEEEEEELPPPPPPPPPP!! Save me from the collapsing Tower of Babel!

How am I supposed to teach someone who doesn't know more than ten words of english, who has extremely decided ideas on how maths is supposed to be taught, who is extrememly ambitious academically, and who wants to do a full a-level this year, BEFORE working on his english?

Jeez. He reads a problem: "Show that the triangle ABC formed by points A (blah, blah), B(blah, blah) and C(blah, blah) is isoceles."

And he doesn't even know where to begin. He doesn't know what 'isoceles' means without referring to his little electronic dictionary. I can't explain 'show' to him. I can't explain what a coordinate system is. In short, he knows his maths (no doubt there) but he can't reference it in a context where it's written in english. And he insists on doing the exam this year, saying that he will look at similar problems and work out what to do. ARGH!! If one word in the problem changes, he's lost. What am I going to do?

This is definitely going to be THE most frustrating class I will ever teach.

</rant>

Small little cababges, hard to clean, not very good to eat, why do they still exist? Such pestilential little objects must be outlawed from this planet; life is hard enough as it is.

Down with Brussels Sprouts! And no, I'm not insane. I've just taught 5 periods today, and I'm not insane. Not yet. :p

I swear, I blink and a whole year is gone. I demand a refund! I want my money's worth! I will be taking this up with my lawyer, you hear?

Ray Bradbury is unique. Totally unique. I can't think of any other author who can make me want to dance and sing and weep tears of sadness and joy, and laugh and cry all at once. Whoa. To be taken in carefully measured doses and savoured, not devoured in a huge gulp.

I am also very disappointed in one respect. I had my first champagne EVER (don't worry, APs, it was just a tiny glassful) and it was TERRIBLE!! Like sparkling white wine, slightly acidified. Whatever happened to the delicious taste of bubbly? This was like dishwater! Yuk. I'm so completely heartbroken. Another illusion goes phut.

Also, KVPY has taken both Suvrat and my names of the list of awardees for 1999. Is this a not-so-very-subtle hint that by not continuing the fellowship into our MSc, we are unworthy of ever being mentioned in the sacred halls of KVPY once again? Hah. I find this quite amusing, actually. Unfortunately, they can't change the fact that I WAS awarded that fellowship, and kept it for three years. No getting away from that, my lads! I have proof! Heheh.

Oh well. Things change, people move on. Happy new year, all, and a good 2005 to you. :)

Not sick (not as far as I can tell), not obviously irritated with anyone or anything, but I keep lapsing into these bouts of melancholy, not more than a few hours, about once a week. Then I get out of it, feeling all chipper and rosy once more (and to be honest, life is pretty much chipper rosiness lately, this is just a ranty post).

Reading BBC news is certainly not making me any cheerfuler, either.

Hmph. I think I need to get away from everyone any everything, and apologise to John along the way for snapping at him like that. Yep, I think that's what I'm going to do.