i don't think my head feels like lead any more. it feels heavier than that and buzzing too. it wasn't this bad earlier on, i went back to sleep after emailing dan donoghue, got up at noon felt better and went to lunch at dudley and was quiet but not miserable and ate with a few other grad students and even climbed up the steps of widener after that to return a bag of books. but after i came home i felt dizzy and tried to sleep it off, tossed a lot (hadrian: quid est culcita? epictitus.: imsomnis volutatorium.) and finally got up and burst into tears. and this is me four hours on, still with a pounding head and wondering whether i want to go back to dudley for dinner, or take something out quickly from a mass ave diner. wish i had food at home. which reminds me, i have found a comeback to von's incessant nagging that i am fat and need to lose weight. it was in e.l. konigsburg's story "camp fat" where the protagonist clara says: "mrs coolidge (the camp counsellor) tells you that you'll like yourself much better if you're thin. i liked myself enough already. my trouble was that i especially liked myself well-fed."