Poor Anne (of Avonlea) had a Jonah day once. It started with a toothache-induced sleepless night that left her sour and humorless. It included exploding fireworks, a mouse in her desk, and having to violate her principle of kindness and non-violence with her students, rapping the most incorrigible offender on the knuckles with her pointer. What makes it a Jonah and not a Job day is that (a) she really did bring it on herself; and (b) she was unexpectedly and incomprehensibly effective. Jonah runs into his string of bad luck because he runs away from his duty and then, after he finally does what is required of him, meeting with extraordinary success, he sits and sulks. Anne didn't quite run away from duty to such a degree, and she didn't really sulk so much as sob and feel very disappointed in herself, but then, we should know to expect this of her.
I am having a more Jonah-ish season than did Anne. I am running away from my dissertation and degree, avoiding it, trying to find a good reason why I should give up. I am in fact avoiding everything good: exercise, real and regular housekeeping, reading real things. And knowing myself, should I finally complete the dissertation, and should it be decent, I'll be even more sour than I would had it failed--as peevish as Jonah witnessing Ninevah's repentance.
The only silver lining I can find is this: hopefully it will be a Jonah season indeed. With luck, I will succeed enough to start a new stage of my life and will be able to grow into a more graceful way of behaving after this Jonah peevishness. I can be as angry, bitchy, crabby, sour as I want so long as I do what must be done. It would be nice to be more cheerful, positive, and graceful. But the feelings need to become less important than doing the work. Okay whale, cough me up. I'll do it.
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