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Tag: injury

Setbacks and Steps Forward

Setbacks and Steps Forward

The last few days have been a weird mixture of productive successes and deeply frustrating setbacks. And it’s not even like some things have been going universally well and some things haven’t — it’s far more muddled up and mixed than that. Friday got off to a bad start. I cycled to a physio consultation, and when getting off my bike outside, my foot gave way beneath me, turning my ankle over with a worrying snapping sound and spraining it….

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Dreams And Denial

Dreams And Denial

Around this time last year, I wrote a post about how my health has got in the way of having dreams and being ambitious, and how I’m more aware of my limitations than of my aspirations. My goal was to try and make 2017 a year of remembering how to dream again, how to be ambitious even when it seems unlikely. It’s hard to assess the extent to which I’ve succeeded at that goal. Right now, I am painfully aware…

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Struggling With Dissertations and Christmas

Struggling With Dissertations and Christmas

My dissertation writing retreat was both everything I hoped, and also not.  Spending five days in Cambridge on my own was what I needed: I managed to write around 9,500 words of my dissertation, which puts me over the minimum wordcount and essentially constitutes most of a first draft. I’d hoped, however, that it would be in a state where I could send it to my supervisor at the end of the week. Instead, it’s a hastily cobbled-together mess of…

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Unproductive and Unprepared

Unproductive and Unprepared

My plan for the first couple of weeks of the holiday wasn’t complicated. I’d work on my dissertation, and hopefully get a good chunk of it written. I’d go to enough dance classes to learn all my steps (well, everything except hornpipe; that would be too much to ask). I’d read for fun and catch up on a few shows I’ve been neglecting and get out my harp for the first time in far too many months. But it turns…

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Lost Potential and Abandoned Dreams

Lost Potential and Abandoned Dreams

For those who aren’t aware, I used to be a competitive Irish dancer. (I’ve written about it before here. And here. And in other places. ) Maybe that’s a bit of an overstatement. I wasn’t the kind of competitive Irish dancer who is at a feis (competition) every weekend, has a huge elaborate curly wig and a dress costing thousands of pounds that seem mostly to have been spent on finding the grossest combination of neon with Swarovski crystals. I…

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A Conspiracy Against Productivity

A Conspiracy Against Productivity

It hasn’t been the easiest few days for me, to the point where I’m beginning to think there’s a conspiracy in place to stop me ever beginning to catch up on work. I’ve resigned myself to being somewhat behind and the fact that I can’t change this, but I was hoping not to fall further behind. Sadly, it was not to be. On Friday, I was collecting a book for my next Brittonic History essay when I tripped slightly on…

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Limiting My Dreams

Limiting My Dreams

I went to see In The Heights earlier this week, at Kings Cross Theatre. It was a great afternoon — I didn’t really know the show at all beforehand, so it was all new to me, and I particularly loved the dancing. It was the kind of dancing I’ve never been capable of doing, which is to say, the dancers appear to be throwing themselves across the stage in a relaxed, random fashion, but actually it’s totally under control and…

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Bloody Matchmaking (And Some Better News)

Bloody Matchmaking (And Some Better News)

There are some people in this world who insist on matchmaking. As soon as you’re distracted, or otherwise out of the way, they’re introducing you to their friends — or worse, introducing your friends to their friends, until you find yourself confused as to how, exactly, they met, let alone went off without you. I have a friend like that. Their name is Gravity. I don’t know how long Gravity planned this particular operation, but the moment I stepped out…

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Reclaiming Brokenness

Reclaiming Brokenness

On Sunday, when my sister was home for Mothers’ Day, we had a disagreement about the fact I refer to myself as “broken” because of my physical health problems and “mental” or “crazy” on days when I’m feeling particularly frustrated with my mental health problems. Her reasoning was that by using these somewhat derogatory terms, I was being defeatist, and suggesting I didn’t think I was going to get better. Moreover, by calling myself broken and mental, I was reinforcing…

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Poem-mas Day 2: Fireworks

Poem-mas Day 2: Fireworks

I’ve got a more cheerful poem for you today, I hope. That is to say, I think it’s more cheerful, but maybe you’ll disagree! If you’re wondering what’s going on, you probably missed my post yesterday explaining my plan to share a poem each day until Christmas, most of them from my first collection (Crossroads Poetry). tl;dr: I’m giving you a poem and a few thoughts about it, wahey. This poem’s called “Fireworks”, and as the title might suggest, it…

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