Arrggggghhh, school. Sigh.

I've finally finished that deadly period that sets in every new school semester - that period where I go into physical and psychological hibernation with a pile of books, desperate to pretend that school hasn't returned. It's the period right after the two weeks of nightmares I always have before each school semester finishes.

This semester, I drowned myself in a huge pile of the books of Lois McMaster Bujold, whom I hadn't previously read.
So I read (in no particular order as they come to mind)
Falling Free (quaddies)
Shards of Honor
Barrayar
A Civil Campaign
Diplomatic Immunity
Komarr
Mirror Dance
Brothers in Arms
The Warrior's Apprentice
The Vor Game
Borders of Infinity
Memory.
Which kept me quite busy for a while. I'm not sure if there are any books in this series more recent than Diplomatic Immunity (2002), it seems that Bujold has been focusing on fantasy for a while in the last few years (these are all more or less Space Opera, aka that Star Wars or Star Trek like stuff where galaxies come in multiples and people move around at plus light speed, though they're pretty character driven).

I'm still reading all of Nora Roberts's J.D. Robb mysteries, and now the library thinks I didn't return "Survivor in Death" on time. Of course, I did return it, but they think I didn't. This is one of the invisible taxes Chicago Public Library puts on heavy users - this is the third or fourth time this calendar year that I've had to go in and do a "claimed return" to point out to them that the item is ON THEIR SHELVES, not mine, thank you very much. Worse, they've made this harder to do, and I think it's now impossible to check out a new item until they find the claimed item. Since they've had the item EVERY TIME, it irks me. Of course, Nora Roberts is pretty popular, so it's possible the problem will clear itself up when someone else checks out the item. This wasn't so likely with, for instance, some random Georgette Heyer book from 1950something.

Last week was long and hard, even though I did almost nothing. Really since getting married I've done pretty well, but the down side of being someone who's good at being depressed/anxious but staying functional is that, well, no one cuts you any slack because they can't see why they should. J., my husband, is great for that, he can see right through me and doesn't complain when I retreat into a pile of books up to my knees and sleeping twelve hours a night for a while.

Example of needing a bit of tolerance from people: I always hear other students/co-workers/what have you reply to my copious reading by saying "oh, I'd never have time to read all that" or "I don't have time to read while I'm in school" or, "well, if you hadn't read those novels you wouldn't be stressing about getting your homework done" which really misses the point! Basically, reading trashy fiction is the way I keep myself balanced without having to do therapy or take professional psychotropic drugs or anything. When the internal pressures get too much, I can pretend to be someone else in a simple world where everything works out the way it should. The worse I'm feeling, the more of my day needs to be medicated in this book-based way. The better I'm feeling, the more energy I have for social interaction/writing/reading real and complicated stuff, etc.

So I'm feeling better now, and I read an average of perhaps two or three books a day last week, because I just couldn't think for a while. I quit smoking again, so going back to school this semester hit harder - smoking makes me all jumpy and stressed out, so it's a nice outside explanation for all the tension I feel going to school. eh. Haven't called any of my friends or anything in about 2 months, but I'm thinking of you. hope you're all still out there when I finally graduate in May and stop being such a pumpkin.