I'll have none of that.

Early this morning I woke up with the most severe case of vertigo and nausea I have ever experienced. 

I broke out into a cold sweat and found that I couldn't stand to lie down. On my back I was overcome by nausea, on my sides by vertigo. Like any internet-informed person, I took my case to the world wide web. The most common cause of those symptoms occurring while one is lying down is an ear complication called benign paroxysmal positional vertigo. It is often onset by movements of the head and creates horrible sensations of out-of-control spinning that can cause vomiting and dry heaves. While this pretty much described my night, I was horrified to read about the current treatment practices. Since the symptoms seem to be caused by loose particles touching sensitive parts of the inner ear, the treatment involves someone rapidly moving your head and body from side to side positions in order to dislodge the offending particle. Frankly this sounds like treating motion sickness with a roller coaster.  

Dancer in the Dark

Time to resume my existential gaze. It is 4:30 am and I am up because of the resounding power of the film Dancer in the Dark and because I have just tonight discovered Philip Larkin and John Donne. You can imagine how my awareness of the levels of existential angst has sky rocketed this evening/morning. 

After crying my eyes raw for literally an hour I turned to Donne's profoundly moving, oddly comforting metaphysical poetry. I, postcolonialist, 21st centuryist, want much more Donne in my life. I don't need to explain how Philip Larkin fits into the triangle of inevitable death, resurrection, and art. Unfortunately, in my post-llorarial high, I believed it would be a transcendent experience to stay up until sunrise in order to fully experience Larkin's 'Aubade'. 

I promise myself a more normal, less neurotic post next time.   

Existential Smiles

I logged onto blogger in order to jot down a little bit of general angst. But I first came across Richard Beck's latest post and it 'postponed' my existential contribution. The post is about detecting fake smiles or grins and consciously exercising the oculi muscles in order to create more welcoming encounters. 

So I'm sitting in the refectory on the lookout for eye smiles. There is a man in a button-up orange shirt sitting at the table next to me who I am convinced is from Texas or Tennessee.  

January cleaning

Over the past few days I performed a few mental cleaning tasks. I stacked my ragtag pages of my handwritten notes, pushed them into notebooks, and stuffed them into my desk drawers. Out of sight, out of mind. I returned the last straggling library books and enjoyed watching my library debt diminish line by line. And most importantly, I stapled the clean pages of my papers and handed them over forever to the English department head. And I signed them away so that my intellectual products belong to the University of Leeds. With that I closed the door on semester 1. 

I promise not to write about school or anything postcolonial for the next three weeks.  As proof, my next read is a mystery novel called Gaudy Night by Dorothy Sayers. 

Absurd Trajectories

I came across this statement last night in World Memory: Personal Trajectories in Global Time and had to laugh...  

'In some cases, texts are being selected for study on the basis of how well they illustrate theories of trauma and memory, rather than because they provide fresh insights into an international range of catastrophes and traumatic events.'

A Paper of Mythic Proportions

I'm breaking for a short exclamation of my joy at finishing essay number one. 24 hours of class, six weeks of contemplating paper topics, a notebook of quotations, £.5.60 in library fines, 45 pages of excess printing, 500 cups of coffee, 2000 digestives, and five hemp bracelets have been condensed into 3993 words including footnotes.   

One more to go by Monday and I'm getting a massage. 

the Global cafe

In the last week I have taken taken four regular trains, one over-night triple-bunker train, one over-night ferry, an airplane, two taxis, and countless rides on the Prague and London metro systems. We spent one night in an airport, two nights traveling across Germany and through the sea, one day in the Amsterdam public library (bibliotec-extraordinaire) , and one day in a tiny Camden branch of the London public library aka social services, which is juxtaposed against the massive British library just across the street. And now I sit in my very own Leeds Uni library, still attempting to finish the coursework that has followed me around Europe like a cold.

Happy New Year!