MIA-and there's certainly been lots of it
The folks incharge of housing for my university are some pretty evil overlords. Every summer, they manage to evict us out of our apartments on some excuse or the other, setting in motion the painful process of stuffing all our earthly posessions into boxes and moving the goddamn monsters in and out of temporary dwellings. This year, I moved in bag and baggage into S' tiny little studio apartment, and the place is not pretty. There are boxes everywhere, we manage to stumble everytime we move, and it's almost like we're living in some warehouse hideouts. Hopefully things would be better when we manage to move most of the boxes into some temporary storage we managed to score.
Finally, if all goes well S might be joining the System soon, becoming another cog in the machine, another brick in the wall. I keep telling him that it's not as dire as that, but then he's become used to an extended vacation over the last year and a half, and it's hard to brace yourself up for a 9to5 routine for the months to come.
It's been a wonderful 5 years, but I don't know how long I can keep the good times rolling on. Some day, I have to wear the clown suit, get my degree and get the hell out. The pressure's been building up from all quarters including parents ("so when are you submitting?" submitting!!! whoa whoa hold on Mum!), advisor ("you really should think of graduating by next summer") and even friends ("heck, if you don't graduate, what hope is there for me?"). Which means, a lot more time devoted to devouring research and regurgitating it in thesis form. Less time for lotus-eating.
But I've also resolved that there are a few extra-curricular things that should carry on regularly regardless, including visits to the gym and my blog. And some bedtime reading. Which has really been looking up in the past two weeks, in which I finished reading Early India by Romilla Thapar and the two Persepolis volumes by Marjane Satrapi. Both are highly recommended. I had heard many stories about the early years of the Islamic Revolution by Em, and to see them being brought to vivid graphic form by Satrapi was amazing. She is truly a master chronicler of the last two decades and a half of life under the Islamic Republic in Iran. A few of the pictures in the book are so stunning that they can be independently be considered works of art.
So that is indeed what occupies my life at present as I look forward to the joys of LA in summer. Great weather (not today though, we are getting early June gloom), concerts at the Hollywood Bowl, the Artwallah festival, hopefully some wine tasting in Santa Barbara a la Sideways, etc. etc.