cosmic

The second week of school and I am officially in the shit, like to the point where weekends become rife with guilty pleasures that I shouldn’t partake in because I have three problem sheets due this week, one deadline every other day. And it will be the same next week. And the week after that I dash off to NY for a bit of a jaunt, as you do.

Fuck.

TAM London is on, and despite the insane ticket prices and the unwelcome presence of Cory Fucking Doctorow, Mr Man blew the cost of a louche weekend in Paris on a couple of prices of admission months ago and surprised me with them. We rocked up at a leisurely lunchtime hour and sat in the afternoon talks while I mired myself deeper in the sludge of Stellar Dynamics and Oort Constants and cgs units. It may have been rude to bask in the glow of my iPad while I ruthlessly pummelled wikipedia and Wolfram Alpha for constants and calculations, but it was necessary, oh so necessary.

I am going to miss Marcus Chown’s talk tomorrow because it was artfully scheduled at 9am. What is it with all the 9am-philia, lately? The trains are so shit then, give a person a break!

Then somehow I have to bilocate to be both at TAM and at my pony lesson in the afternoon.
Make that trilocate since there’s a bitch of a prob sheet due Monday morning bright and early.

FFS.

I even feel guilty for sleeping. 1.26am and I’m still at the equations. Pass the piracetam!

If I even make it back to TAM tomoz, I’ll try and post my thoughts. Right now I can only ponder the repercussions of cancelling the ponies.