I'm tired. Not just, "Oh, I didn't get enough sleep last night" tired. I mean that I am inexplicably exhausted, almost every day. I try to sleep, and I think I get enough, but the heat (it's almost ninety degrees out there and it's mid October!), the everyday psychological stresses of living in a foreign country that I don't even notice anymore, and not being able to do simple things without head butting that damned language barrier ... well, it's draining me. I am beginning to nap (all of Zhanjiang, in fact, enjoys a short siesta, usually from noon to three), but the naps screw up my sleep schedule, they don't really make me feel refreshed, and I find that when I jolt awake at six in the evening, I've wasted a large chunk of my day. But even after a nap I am just so drained, I can't seem to find the strength to do much.
On a happier note, I just downloaded Cat Steven's full discography. It's good stuff, give it a listen.
Yeah, so remember, last post, when I said I won't blog on little odds and ends? That my bloggings have to be big fancy metablogs, littered with meaning and poignancy? Well, forget all that. I want to blog more often, I want to write more often, but so long as I hold myself to some counter-productive standard, I find that I just skip the blogging or writing all together. So now I'm just going to blog and write and hopefully I'll get better at both.
I've been slowly filling the journal Marilyn bought me as a going away present. It's quite nice. Nicki told me she's already on her second journal. I really need to do that stuff more often. My journal is a sketchbook, a language and character repository, and occasionally, a place where I right stuff down. I need to force myself to write more fiction. I began writing some stories, they're awful retreads of what I've written before. But I'm writing for myself. I'm not worrying about who is going to read this; finally, I am able to just write and not care. I'm just writing, and I don't care if they're awful or bland or warmed-over thoughts from before. Practice makes ... me slightly less awful.
I am so tired. I really want to spend more time writing, blogging, preparing for my lessons (instead of having them come together at one in the morning the night before class, as is too often the case), marking (mountains upon mountains of journals yet to grade!), running, lifting, exploring Zhanjiang, reading, doing any number of things I want to do. But I feel this crippling exhaustion setting in, and everyday around noon, I just can't keep my eyes open.
This week, I am being visited by Maryknoll's Guy in Charge of Making Sure the Foreign Teacher's Aren't Total Fuck-ups, Kevin Clancy. Kevin actually used to teach here in Zhanjiang. It'll be nice to have a visitor (us Maryknoll folk last saw Kevin in Hong Kong at the end of August), Kevin will hopefully have some advice to give and suggest some cool nooks and crannies of the city to explore, and we should be able to get at least one decent meal on Maryknoll's tab. And if all goes well, I'll be taking some students to try their first pizza this weekend, at the newly-opened Pizza Hut in Xia Shan.
And I just discovered that Wikipedia isn't blocked in China anymore! Pizza and Wikis? There may be hope for me here yet ...