Frozen

I've been feeling a little paralyzed lately, on a couple of levels. First of all, it's minus a million outside. Our street is a series of inches-apart ice speedbumps. I keep losing one mitten out of every pair. Second, my hip hurts. A lot. I go to the chiropractor a couple of times, the pain dies down a little and then flares back up and my sciatic nerve is on fire. I can't figure out what I'm doing to aggravate it or what I should do to make it better (well, I can, but I'm too lazy to go to physio right now so I'm going with internet stretches and complaining for the moment). It's clearly not too much exercise, because I've made it to the gym about once a month since Christmas. So maybe it's sitting. So I stand in the middle of the room looking at all the chairs suspiciously wondering which one is the offending party. Then my feet start to hurt. It's not good.

Then there's the writing thing. Writing anywhere. One of my friends on Facebook posted a status saying it was offensive to post anything "to relieve the negativity" because only privileged people could ignore the negativity. And hey, I get it. I am a privileged person and there's a lot of negativity that I can ignore that others can't. But does that mean I can't ever say anything that doesn't involve politics or resisting?

No. It doesn't. That's not what she was saying. I was making everything all about me because it was January and everything hurt and everything was gray and any bit of wit or insight that entered my brain was immediately devoured by the gray hurt-monster so the impulse to write anything was slim anyway.

I watched the new Gilmore Girls mini-series on Netflix - not the day it came out, but a few weeks later. I watched the actual series in real time when it was on, and I liked it, but not, like, Buffy the Vampire Slayer like-level. But then Eve started watching the original series so I started rewatching it.
Some thoughts: they eat a lot of junk food and takeout for being skinny people on a single income; they make fun of fat people more than I remember; they use the word 'retarded' - was that still done then? Because I find that surprising; the fact that Lorelai keeps chasing Max around after she jilts him makes me want to throat-punch her; I still love the witty banter; Emily Gilmore quite often veers over the line from uptight rich mother to total bitch; the fact that Lorelai uses the Frank Lloyd Wright Prairie Home massacre as a funny dinner-time anecdote seems in really bad taste (I read the book about it between my first time seeing that episode and the second); I adore Lane and I think her storyline got really stupid; I adore Paul Anka the dog; and Lauren Graham dated her tv daughter's teacher in TWO SERIES now, what is WRONG with you, TV writers?

It's problematic, rewatching a series with more than three or four seasons. I start off watching one episode every now and then. Then I start mainlining them until two in the morning. Then by the end I can't read or watch anything else, I just want it to be over and the whole experience verges on hate-watching.

Also, my last placement is finally starting next week, after six months of emails and getting passed around from one type of supervisor to another and interminable legal stuff - you'd think I was asking the Ottawa Public Library if I could put on a three-ring circus in their main branch instead of offering them some free book-shelving and database classification. Anyway, the people I met are really nice, the Stittsville Branch is darling (it has a fireplace!) and I'm looking forward to getting this done.

There. I moved a little. Perhaps a thaw is imminent.