| The Recipe For Mermatriarch |
 3 parts Kindness 2 parts Sass 1 part Bravery Splash of Instinct Finish off with an olive |
Monday, December 31, 2007
A Special Mermatriarch New Year's Cocktail
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Fried Brain
It's crazy. I totally forgot about MLA. The premier conference for us academics that happens right after Christmas, and I forgot about it. Maybe cancer's good for some things after all.
J/k
J/k
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Chemo 3, Mermatriarch 0
I am still suffering the sinus infection that I got on 11/28. Combine that with a bad "trip" from this latest round of chemo, I am having a shitty, shitty day.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Update
My Mom came in on Monday, and she's been wonderful.
Wednesday was another round of chemo. What was terrible was the I.V., which just burned. I went through 3 liters of "buffer" solution, but when it ran out, I was crying, because the stuff just was like fire in my arm. Apparently I have a low tolerance for the meds, and I thought I would die. The nurse hooked me up with more buffer but I guess there's only so much they can give.
Anyway, four hours later, we left, and went to Target to pick up a new prescription. Every time I leave that doctor, it seems like I get some new drugs. And not good ones. :(
Chemo mostly makes me exhausted and nauseated. But I'm trying my best. It's early in my treatment, though; maybe later, I'll be less "cheerful and brave." I don't know how many rounds I'll have to get. It just depends on how my body responds.
Anyway, if I don't write any time soon, I hope everyone has a happy Christmas or other winter holiday. Bless you all.
Wednesday was another round of chemo. What was terrible was the I.V., which just burned. I went through 3 liters of "buffer" solution, but when it ran out, I was crying, because the stuff just was like fire in my arm. Apparently I have a low tolerance for the meds, and I thought I would die. The nurse hooked me up with more buffer but I guess there's only so much they can give.
Anyway, four hours later, we left, and went to Target to pick up a new prescription. Every time I leave that doctor, it seems like I get some new drugs. And not good ones. :(
Chemo mostly makes me exhausted and nauseated. But I'm trying my best. It's early in my treatment, though; maybe later, I'll be less "cheerful and brave." I don't know how many rounds I'll have to get. It just depends on how my body responds.
Anyway, if I don't write any time soon, I hope everyone has a happy Christmas or other winter holiday. Bless you all.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Absurd
Choriocarcinoma. That's what it's called.
And I was upset earlier this afternoon when I tripped and broke a nail.
And I was upset earlier this afternoon when I tripped and broke a nail.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
The Gift That Keeps on Giving
My latest blood tests were apparently bad... I have to see the gynocological oncologist (a specialist, in other words) on Monday. And I'm cramping really bad today.
I'm so sick of being sick.
I'm so sick of being sick.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
Nightmare City
I have to go to the doctor today to get a shot. They're also drawing blood for some tests. Then I have to go back tomorrow for a different test. Why they can't just do everything tomorrow, when gas is at a f'ing premium, and they're 15 miles away, one way, I have no idea.
Monday, November 5, 2007
I Stayed Late Tonight
I didn't leave campus till after 8--I absolutely wanted to finish grading the first class' design exercise, and I did finish that. I have great plans for staying late tomorrow and Wednesday, and getting them all graded so I can give them back on Monday. Then I'll only have their damn memos and audience exercises to grade, and I'll be all caught up...
Of course, I realize how ridiculous that sounds... I mean, these damn things have been waiting for weeks for me to grade. They sit in condemning piles around my house, filling me with loathing. If I could just grade the papers when they came in, it wouldn't be such an ordeal. But my behavior never seems to change.
I wish I could teach, but not grade. I suspect all teachers feel this way. But I know there are conscientious, ethical teachers who really do their jobs, read and return papers in a timely manner, and don't hate every single day they're in the classroom. I don't know how they do it. I really admire them. I can't seem to manage it.
Oh, this is a rambly, useless post. More of the same. Sometimes, I can't even stand myself.
Of course, I realize how ridiculous that sounds... I mean, these damn things have been waiting for weeks for me to grade. They sit in condemning piles around my house, filling me with loathing. If I could just grade the papers when they came in, it wouldn't be such an ordeal. But my behavior never seems to change.
I wish I could teach, but not grade. I suspect all teachers feel this way. But I know there are conscientious, ethical teachers who really do their jobs, read and return papers in a timely manner, and don't hate every single day they're in the classroom. I don't know how they do it. I really admire them. I can't seem to manage it.
Oh, this is a rambly, useless post. More of the same. Sometimes, I can't even stand myself.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Another Weekend Wasted
Great, it's 7 p.m. Sunday evening, and I've not done a damn thing this weekend except brood about my shitty life and wish all the grading I haven't done would just mysteriously disappear so I wouldn't have to look at all those piles of uncompleted work.
I've decided that what I need to do is start staying at school till 8 or 9 pm--just grading. I'd like to be able to go home for T'giving without carrying home 300 papers to grade. It's quite obvious that when I'm home nothing gets accomplished. Part of that is the depression. Part of it is just hating hating hating Tech Comm and everything to do with it and not being able to motivate myself to get it done. It's terrible--I'm practically phoning in my work. I go to work, but I'm not there. I'm not answering student e-mails. I'll probably get the worst evals of my career. And I can't even seem to care, not even a smidge.
It's really, really bad. I've never LOVED grading--who does? But at least when I was reading comp papers, there was the POSSIBILITY of finding something interesting that engaged my intellect. But there is no such experience in grading effing memos.
I wish to Goddess a miracle would happen, and they'll hire me full time for advising. I pray for it.
I've decided that what I need to do is start staying at school till 8 or 9 pm--just grading. I'd like to be able to go home for T'giving without carrying home 300 papers to grade. It's quite obvious that when I'm home nothing gets accomplished. Part of that is the depression. Part of it is just hating hating hating Tech Comm and everything to do with it and not being able to motivate myself to get it done. It's terrible--I'm practically phoning in my work. I go to work, but I'm not there. I'm not answering student e-mails. I'll probably get the worst evals of my career. And I can't even seem to care, not even a smidge.
It's really, really bad. I've never LOVED grading--who does? But at least when I was reading comp papers, there was the POSSIBILITY of finding something interesting that engaged my intellect. But there is no such experience in grading effing memos.
I wish to Goddess a miracle would happen, and they'll hire me full time for advising. I pray for it.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Out of It
I've been struggling with some news lately that I'm still trying to deal with, and trying to decide what to do. When I come to some conclusions, I'll write about them here, but until then I have to be mysterious.
In other news, school is dragging me down. I hate Tech Comm like you can't believe. I'm glad it's November because I have like 4 or 5 group work days scheduled and that means 4 or 5 days I don't have to teach. I am so depressed about being scheduled to teach it again next semester. I asked for Comp 2, but apparently they needed me to teach it. Well, that's what they said anyhow. But the bright side is, of course, that I'm continuing to advise. Which I love.
Maybe I've said this before here, but I liken advising to "emergency room academia." I still get the benefit of talking with students, but there is no grading involved. They come in, get what they need, and then they go. I mean, how great is that? I keep praying that this will turn into a full-time job. It will mitigate some of my current worries if I knew I was going to continue to be employed. But more than that, I'm good at advising. I actually care about these students in ways that I could give a rat's ass about the students in my Tech Comm classes.
Which is not to say I don't like my TC students, because some of them I like very much. But it's the subject matter that is just dreadful. And I hate the Guru's book. I'm just going to come right out and say that. Her book is so tedious and so dull--and it breaks a lot of the "rules" that she's so tediously explains about what good technical communication should do. I mean maybe TC has a possibility of being interesting, but her book kills it for me. And those students who aren't doing even just the bare minimum in class--they're killing me too.
Anyway... not much on tap today. I have 1000 papers to grade. Oh, joy.
Hmm, I have so much to do, I think I'll go read a book. Heheh.
In other news, school is dragging me down. I hate Tech Comm like you can't believe. I'm glad it's November because I have like 4 or 5 group work days scheduled and that means 4 or 5 days I don't have to teach. I am so depressed about being scheduled to teach it again next semester. I asked for Comp 2, but apparently they needed me to teach it. Well, that's what they said anyhow. But the bright side is, of course, that I'm continuing to advise. Which I love.
Maybe I've said this before here, but I liken advising to "emergency room academia." I still get the benefit of talking with students, but there is no grading involved. They come in, get what they need, and then they go. I mean, how great is that? I keep praying that this will turn into a full-time job. It will mitigate some of my current worries if I knew I was going to continue to be employed. But more than that, I'm good at advising. I actually care about these students in ways that I could give a rat's ass about the students in my Tech Comm classes.
Which is not to say I don't like my TC students, because some of them I like very much. But it's the subject matter that is just dreadful. And I hate the Guru's book. I'm just going to come right out and say that. Her book is so tedious and so dull--and it breaks a lot of the "rules" that she's so tediously explains about what good technical communication should do. I mean maybe TC has a possibility of being interesting, but her book kills it for me. And those students who aren't doing even just the bare minimum in class--they're killing me too.
Anyway... not much on tap today. I have 1000 papers to grade. Oh, joy.
Hmm, I have so much to do, I think I'll go read a book. Heheh.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
The Halloween Book Ain't Happening, Guru Be Fucked
So, it's the 11th of October, and I haven't done any work on the book Guru wants done. Initially I was all freaked out about it, and now it's like I can't try to teach a class I hate, meet my advising obligations, meet with my writing groups and the Tech Comm Seminar every week, be a good girlfriend, try to grade (which, by the way, that ain't happening either), and keep sane. I'm kind of depressed about everything.
In other, unrelated news, I am sending prayers, good vibes, and kind wishes to my friends Doggerel and Butterfly Cauldron... I worry about them, and send them my love.
In other, unrelated news, I am sending prayers, good vibes, and kind wishes to my friends Doggerel and Butterfly Cauldron... I worry about them, and send them my love.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Job Things, The Sequel
So, today I had a meeting with Guru (the New Writing & Communication Coordinator, who is a Full Professor, and a Professor Emeritus from her previous school), and she looked over my C.V. and talked to me about my future plans, and mentioned ways that I could improve the C.V. and how I articulate my teaching and the kinds of things I do in the classroom so as to make me stand out when it comes to people picking through job materials.
But among the things she said: a) only listing 3 examples of work under review is poor--I ought to have 10(!) listed, so as to demonstrate I am an active poet who actively submits work; b) that I need to write at least 3 essays (on place, spirituality, and family) since those are areas I focused on in my diss; c) that I need to cull about 30 poems from my diss, package them with these essays, and send this manuscript out to publishers by Halloween (!); and d) that I begin the research to write a collaborative paper with her about Tech Comm. I came out of the meeting ready to slit my wrists.
More than that, she said that while it's quite obvious that several people in the department would LOVE to keep me on as an advisor, that this is a "safe" job, and it's about time I spread my wings and leave the nest. That I should be a teacher, since that's where my heart is.
And what I said to her is that I don't know where my heart is. I'm not sure what I want to be "when I grow up." And what I didn't feel like I could admit is how absolutely little faith I have in myself. And why should I? I don't write. In some ways, I think going on the job market would be a waste of time because I really don't think that I would be an asset to any program. No matter how you package my C.V., there's just not anything there. Certainly not anything that would get me hired.
Of course, if I do all the work Guru wants (and as an aside, let me mention that a First Year came to me about writing a collaborative paper in Tech Comm about video games which I agreed to do way before this onslought of work Guru has piled on me), maybe I could get a job somewhere. I mean, there were quite a few creative writing jobs on the MLA list... but where would that leave me with Boyfriend?
If it's not one thing, it's six.
But among the things she said: a) only listing 3 examples of work under review is poor--I ought to have 10(!) listed, so as to demonstrate I am an active poet who actively submits work; b) that I need to write at least 3 essays (on place, spirituality, and family) since those are areas I focused on in my diss; c) that I need to cull about 30 poems from my diss, package them with these essays, and send this manuscript out to publishers by Halloween (!); and d) that I begin the research to write a collaborative paper with her about Tech Comm. I came out of the meeting ready to slit my wrists.
More than that, she said that while it's quite obvious that several people in the department would LOVE to keep me on as an advisor, that this is a "safe" job, and it's about time I spread my wings and leave the nest. That I should be a teacher, since that's where my heart is.
And what I said to her is that I don't know where my heart is. I'm not sure what I want to be "when I grow up." And what I didn't feel like I could admit is how absolutely little faith I have in myself. And why should I? I don't write. In some ways, I think going on the job market would be a waste of time because I really don't think that I would be an asset to any program. No matter how you package my C.V., there's just not anything there. Certainly not anything that would get me hired.
Of course, if I do all the work Guru wants (and as an aside, let me mention that a First Year came to me about writing a collaborative paper in Tech Comm about video games which I agreed to do way before this onslought of work Guru has piled on me), maybe I could get a job somewhere. I mean, there were quite a few creative writing jobs on the MLA list... but where would that leave me with Boyfriend?
If it's not one thing, it's six.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Job Things
Today I met with another Third Year and some people he knows at the Big Humanities School here in town and we talked about and workshopped job materials. It was really beneficial in the sense that they helped me to see some ways to improve my C.V. and also how to articulate and position my research in my job letter. And in some ways it was really depressing, because their C.V.s just seemed so impressive and demonstrated such a range of scholarship.
Honestly, I don't know what the hell I'm doing with my life. I can say that the reason I don't go to conferences is that I can't afford to fly (and more than that I HATE to fly), but the truth is, I just don't think I have any good ideas about researching. And when I do have good ideas, and start to write, I lose interest. Everything I write is an abortion. (Just like my poetry.)
It just makes me want to give up. But the truth is, I've already given up. Which is pretty sad, since the MLA job list just came out yesterday.
I wish I knew what the hell I wanted to do with my life.
Honestly, I don't know what the hell I'm doing with my life. I can say that the reason I don't go to conferences is that I can't afford to fly (and more than that I HATE to fly), but the truth is, I just don't think I have any good ideas about researching. And when I do have good ideas, and start to write, I lose interest. Everything I write is an abortion. (Just like my poetry.)
It just makes me want to give up. But the truth is, I've already given up. Which is pretty sad, since the MLA job list just came out yesterday.
I wish I knew what the hell I wanted to do with my life.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
This & That
This weekend I read some poems at a "Local Authors" reading. I didn't really want to, but I did because I was asked to. Well, alright, that's a complete lie. I was told, rather unceremoniously, in the middle of summer that I would be reading at this thing. If I had realized back in July that the 2nd was Labor Day weekend, I would have passed. As it was, I went, read 7 poems, and then headed down to visit B/f.
He and I had a good time, even if it was just for Sunday night and yesterday day. Of course the house was beyond the pale, but he had fresh sheets down, so I'll take what I can get. We had a good time with each other. I really do love the big goof.
In other news, today and tomorrow are more long days at the office. And then my Mom is coming in for a few days on Thursday. So after I do accumulated weeks of laundry tonight, I have to clean the house. It's not really bad--it never is--but it could use some straightening. As always, the stacks of crap on the coffee table need to be beat back from taking over the living room, and the bathroom needs cleaning. Nothing arduous, just a bit time consuming.
And I still have to do the reading and assignment stuff for tomorrow. Bleah. It's always something.
He and I had a good time, even if it was just for Sunday night and yesterday day. Of course the house was beyond the pale, but he had fresh sheets down, so I'll take what I can get. We had a good time with each other. I really do love the big goof.
In other news, today and tomorrow are more long days at the office. And then my Mom is coming in for a few days on Thursday. So after I do accumulated weeks of laundry tonight, I have to clean the house. It's not really bad--it never is--but it could use some straightening. As always, the stacks of crap on the coffee table need to be beat back from taking over the living room, and the bathroom needs cleaning. Nothing arduous, just a bit time consuming.
And I still have to do the reading and assignment stuff for tomorrow. Bleah. It's always something.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Meetings!
I'm glad that I don't have to put in an appearance at work tomorrow, because I don't think I could stand having to ...er... sit through one more meeting this week. I had 2 on Tuesday, yesterday, and today. The ones today included a meeting for all the liberal arts college advisors, and also a faculty meeting for our department.
I can't complain too much about either of the meetings I attended today. The faculty meeting was over in less than an hour (!!!), and the advisors' meeting, which was an hour and a half, at least provided us with candy and drinks. (I'd have preferred lunch, but beggers can't be choosers, as they say.)
I'm really of two minds when it comes to meetings. There is something to be said for the energy and enthusiasm they can give you when you're actually discussing something interesting. In fact, it's often been my experience that good meetings really do spark ideas and creativity. However, we've all sat through meetings where they discuss useless trivialities till all you think about is how much more exciting it would be if someone would just come in with a high-powered vacuum and suck out your brain through your nose.
I suppose, if my boss manages to persuade the Higher Ups that they really need to hire me as an advisor full time, I can look forward to all kinds of meetings. But that would be ok. I'm not a meeting person. But I could become one if I were pulling in $50K a year. ;)
I can't complain too much about either of the meetings I attended today. The faculty meeting was over in less than an hour (!!!), and the advisors' meeting, which was an hour and a half, at least provided us with candy and drinks. (I'd have preferred lunch, but beggers can't be choosers, as they say.)
I'm really of two minds when it comes to meetings. There is something to be said for the energy and enthusiasm they can give you when you're actually discussing something interesting. In fact, it's often been my experience that good meetings really do spark ideas and creativity. However, we've all sat through meetings where they discuss useless trivialities till all you think about is how much more exciting it would be if someone would just come in with a high-powered vacuum and suck out your brain through your nose.
I suppose, if my boss manages to persuade the Higher Ups that they really need to hire me as an advisor full time, I can look forward to all kinds of meetings. But that would be ok. I'm not a meeting person. But I could become one if I were pulling in $50K a year. ;)
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Space Cadet
That would be me.
As in, today was the department "Welcome to the New Semester" party which I RSVP'ed to... and totally forgot to go to.
Attending that would have been hella lot better than sitting on my ass today and doing nothing.... like not doing the reading for tomorrow, and not ironing my clothes, and not shaving my legs...
Sometimes, I really suck.
As in, today was the department "Welcome to the New Semester" party which I RSVP'ed to... and totally forgot to go to.
Attending that would have been hella lot better than sitting on my ass today and doing nothing.... like not doing the reading for tomorrow, and not ironing my clothes, and not shaving my legs...
Sometimes, I really suck.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Poison for Dinner, Anyone?
How do you tell your boyfriend he can't cook, and that you'd rather eviscerate yourself with a rhinocerous horn than eat another one of his "specialties"?
I kid you not, his "eggplant parmesan" was the absolute most dreadful experiment in oil-soaked mushy eggplant, sans flavor, sans breading, and sans parmesan that I've even choked down in my life.
And this was our "anniversary" meal. Goddess help me, I thought I would die. Twice he's asked me if I liked it... and twice I've prevaricated along the lines of, "it's very different from the eggplant parmesan I've had before."
I would let this go as one of the relationship crosses I've had to bear, except he's told me that two lesbian friends of his are having a committment ceremony, and he's planning on "catering" (gasp, gag) their dinner with this..."food." I don't, in all conscience, know how I can allow him to ruin their special day with something so heinously bad. But I just don't know how I can tell him he can't cook.
I'm shuddering just thinking about all the leftovers that I have in the fridge. It's so nasty and vile, I don't even want to look at it in order to throw it out.
I know he thought he was doing a kind thing by cooking for our anniversary... but I really would have preferred to go out. Believe me, when he told me he decided he would cook, it took everything I had not to go and get the butcher knife and slit my wrists.
I kid you not, his "eggplant parmesan" was the absolute most dreadful experiment in oil-soaked mushy eggplant, sans flavor, sans breading, and sans parmesan that I've even choked down in my life.
And this was our "anniversary" meal. Goddess help me, I thought I would die. Twice he's asked me if I liked it... and twice I've prevaricated along the lines of, "it's very different from the eggplant parmesan I've had before."
I would let this go as one of the relationship crosses I've had to bear, except he's told me that two lesbian friends of his are having a committment ceremony, and he's planning on "catering" (gasp, gag) their dinner with this..."food." I don't, in all conscience, know how I can allow him to ruin their special day with something so heinously bad. But I just don't know how I can tell him he can't cook.
I'm shuddering just thinking about all the leftovers that I have in the fridge. It's so nasty and vile, I don't even want to look at it in order to throw it out.
I know he thought he was doing a kind thing by cooking for our anniversary... but I really would have preferred to go out. Believe me, when he told me he decided he would cook, it took everything I had not to go and get the butcher knife and slit my wrists.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Apologia
Sometimes I write in an e-mail the vomitous bile that would be more appropriate for a blog.
Doggerel, I'm sorry.
Doggerel, I'm sorry.
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Taking a Break
I am stressed out right now because grades are due on Monday and while I only have 3 more portfolios to grade, I still have all 19 final projects to grade. I know I'll get them done tomorrow, and probably very quickly, but I'm exhausted, I'm cranky, and I'm just generally depressed.
I really, really wanted to go home for a little while before the new semester started. I had planned on leaving on Tuesday to go home for a week. Then my sister informed me that she was coming for 3 days this Monday. Then directly after that is my "annniversary weekend" with Boyfriend. So that knocks out next week. The week after that I have 3 meetings with my new boss about the advising aspect of my job. I REALLY wanted to get out of them, but of course I couldn't. So that knocks out the week of the 13th-17th. And of course the fall semester starts on the 20th.
I'm just so desolate and exhausted and I really needed that time to recoup. When I'm home with my Mom, we laugh. We hang out. We just be. And I was really counting on that because I always need to recharge before the new semester starts, because teaching takes so much out of me. I constantly feel like I don't have any time to myself--I'm constantly on call to students. And it wears me out.
And I feel like I'll be starting the new semester already in an emotional deficit... and let's face it, this semester is going to be hard. I'm teaching Tech Writing, which I've never done before; I'm doing 12 hours of week advising, and another 8-10 working on the school's cable network. So I'll probably be on campus every day, which means I won't have downtime to grade and think... let alone write!
I'm so depressed. I guess I should just go to bed. I can do those last 3 portfolios tomorrow morning, along with all those final projects. It's obvious to me I'm about to break down and cry, I'm so tired.
I'm sorry for whining.
I really, really wanted to go home for a little while before the new semester started. I had planned on leaving on Tuesday to go home for a week. Then my sister informed me that she was coming for 3 days this Monday. Then directly after that is my "annniversary weekend" with Boyfriend. So that knocks out next week. The week after that I have 3 meetings with my new boss about the advising aspect of my job. I REALLY wanted to get out of them, but of course I couldn't. So that knocks out the week of the 13th-17th. And of course the fall semester starts on the 20th.
I'm just so desolate and exhausted and I really needed that time to recoup. When I'm home with my Mom, we laugh. We hang out. We just be. And I was really counting on that because I always need to recharge before the new semester starts, because teaching takes so much out of me. I constantly feel like I don't have any time to myself--I'm constantly on call to students. And it wears me out.
And I feel like I'll be starting the new semester already in an emotional deficit... and let's face it, this semester is going to be hard. I'm teaching Tech Writing, which I've never done before; I'm doing 12 hours of week advising, and another 8-10 working on the school's cable network. So I'll probably be on campus every day, which means I won't have downtime to grade and think... let alone write!
I'm so depressed. I guess I should just go to bed. I can do those last 3 portfolios tomorrow morning, along with all those final projects. It's obvious to me I'm about to break down and cry, I'm so tired.
I'm sorry for whining.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Cabals, Cliques, and Cloisters Suck...
...when you don't get to choose who joins.
I was trying to discuss with Boyfriend why I hate my life.
The latest reason (#460) is that a person from Midwestern U is coming to join the program I'm in, and my program coordinator (also from Midwestern U, the person instrumental in getting me this job), thinking it would be nice if I had someone from Midwestern U that I went to school with (tangentially) to share my office with next semester (because Beth is leaving), as opposed to a stranger, informed me today that he's moving in. This would, I suppose, not be TERRIBLE, though I am jealous of this person because he just had a book published (or accepted), and I still can't get a single GODDAMN PIECE OF SHIT JOURNAL to take one measly poem from me.
But more than that... that guy has never said more than a handful of words to me, even though I've tried to be friendly to him. So, won't it be just delightful to have him in my office?? The reason she gave for installing him in my office was that we're both "writers" and that the program likes to put people with similar interests together. But the truth is, she just wants to have a little conclave of Midwestern U people together, like we're some club. I think I will be ill.
I much rather it was Doggerel coming to share an office with me. Because I love her.
I was trying to discuss with Boyfriend why I hate my life.
The latest reason (#460) is that a person from Midwestern U is coming to join the program I'm in, and my program coordinator (also from Midwestern U, the person instrumental in getting me this job), thinking it would be nice if I had someone from Midwestern U that I went to school with (tangentially) to share my office with next semester (because Beth is leaving), as opposed to a stranger, informed me today that he's moving in. This would, I suppose, not be TERRIBLE, though I am jealous of this person because he just had a book published (or accepted), and I still can't get a single GODDAMN PIECE OF SHIT JOURNAL to take one measly poem from me.
But more than that... that guy has never said more than a handful of words to me, even though I've tried to be friendly to him. So, won't it be just delightful to have him in my office?? The reason she gave for installing him in my office was that we're both "writers" and that the program likes to put people with similar interests together. But the truth is, she just wants to have a little conclave of Midwestern U people together, like we're some club. I think I will be ill.
I much rather it was Doggerel coming to share an office with me. Because I love her.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Meditative
I have been savoring a novel called The Mistress of Spices, by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni (Anchor, 1997), set in San Francisco, about an immortal woman whose mystical calling is to serve the spices in their magical aid to humans--for comfort, or harmony, or peace, etc., whatever the customers of her shop need.
It is, of course, a book about placing the spiritual needs of others above the physical desires of the self, and, in her attempt to help others, Tilo finds that she must not cut herself off from the world, though her calling requires her not to interfere in others' lives, just serve as the handmaiden of the spices to do their will.
And of course, the more involved in the outside world she becomes--for instance, she feels an attraction, perhaps even love, for the American--the less the spices speak to her. And I find that the more she is drawn away from her path, the less I want to read this book. I do not know if she will sacrifice her powers for earthly love, but I fear she might. And somehow, despite the richness and beauty of the book that I have read so far, I do not want Tilo to be yet another woman who must give up her dream, her soul, her being, her career for the fickle love of a man.
Perhaps, because there is a part of me who fears that very thing happening in my own life.
It is, of course, a book about placing the spiritual needs of others above the physical desires of the self, and, in her attempt to help others, Tilo finds that she must not cut herself off from the world, though her calling requires her not to interfere in others' lives, just serve as the handmaiden of the spices to do their will.
And of course, the more involved in the outside world she becomes--for instance, she feels an attraction, perhaps even love, for the American--the less the spices speak to her. And I find that the more she is drawn away from her path, the less I want to read this book. I do not know if she will sacrifice her powers for earthly love, but I fear she might. And somehow, despite the richness and beauty of the book that I have read so far, I do not want Tilo to be yet another woman who must give up her dream, her soul, her being, her career for the fickle love of a man.
Perhaps, because there is a part of me who fears that very thing happening in my own life.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Diamonds Are Not a Girl's Best Friend...
...but oh, I have been pretending that they are. Last night, I went to Amazon to check on the status of an order, and on the first page there was a "Create The Ring of Your Dreams" link, which lets you choose the price, quality, cut, clarity, color, and style of your engagement ring. Then when you've found the diamond that you wanted, you choose the setting. Now granted, I want an emerald ring for an engagement ring (if Boyfriend and I get to that) because a) I love emeralds, and emerald is my birthstone; and b) the two of us have ethical issues with diamonds, and their propensity to be blood diamonds, even though there is a ban on importing them. But a girl can dream. Here are the specs on my perfect diamond ring:
My Ring
And all for a mere $11,435 (that includes the $435 platinum setting). If I add another $7.50 to my cart, I'll get free shipping!
Diamond Specifications
Stone shape: Round
Carat Weight: 1.02 carats
Cut: Ideal
Color: E
Clarity: VVS1
Certificate type: GIA
Depth %: 61.4
Table %: 57.0
Symmetry: Very Good
Polish: Excellent
Girdle: Medium-Slightly Thick Faceted
Culet: None
Fluorescence: Medium
Measurements: 6.39 x 6.47 x 3.95 millimeters
Length-to-width ratio: 0.99
Diamond Information
Certification: GIA
This diamond comes accompanied by a diamond certificate grading report from the GIA.View certified diamond grading report for this diamond
Cut: Ideal
This diamond is cut to extremely exacting proportions of depth, diameter, and angles that allows for maximum brilliance (white light returning to the eye), dispersion (the play of colors you see in a diamond’s reflections), and scintillation (sparkling flashes that are seen when the stone, light source, or viewer moves). Diamonds with an Ideal cut grade are more rare and costly than a diamond with a Very Good or Good cut grade.
Color: E
This diamond is considered colorless but may have a slightly different degree of transparency than a D color, which is only noticeable to an expert grader under laboratory conditions. Diamonds with a color grade of E are very rare. They appear a brilliant white in the setting and will cost slightly less than a D color, depending on other quality factors.
Clarity: VVS1
This diamond is very, very slightly included to the first degree, which means that there are minute inclusions that are very difficult to see under 10 power magnification by a trained gemologist. The average person would have to look at the diamond for a long time under magnification to discern the very tiny pinpoints or polish marks that distinguish this grade from IF. With a VVS1 clarity grade, there is no possibility of seeing any inclusion with the unaided eye. For someone who values purity in a diamond, this grade offers a very rare clarity at a lower price than FL or IF clarity grades, depending on other factors.
My Ring
And all for a mere $11,435 (that includes the $435 platinum setting). If I add another $7.50 to my cart, I'll get free shipping!
Monday, June 25, 2007
Booty Call (Heh Heh)
I drove down to see boyfriend in Neighboring Southern State on Saturday night, kind of out of the blue. I had talked to him earlier in the day, and he seemed a little puny, so even though I couldn't afford it, I drove down to see him. I waited up at the restaurant for him to clock out, drinking a margarita at the bar, and watching America's Got Talent without sound, because Bad 80's Music was playing loudly in the background. Who knew Sirius Radio had a Bad 80's channel?
Anyway, he and I talked and made love (it's always "making love" with him, he's such a romantic softy), and then yesterday morning we went to IHOP for breakfast.
I was really glad to see him. I've missed him bitterly.
Anyway, he and I talked and made love (it's always "making love" with him, he's such a romantic softy), and then yesterday morning we went to IHOP for breakfast.
I was really glad to see him. I've missed him bitterly.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
St. Pete
Last night, I was missing Grampie pretty bad--crying even. It occurred to me that yesterday was a week since his funeral. It seems crazy to think that he's already been gone 11 days. I know that, blessed, sainted man he is, he's in heaven, which he believed in (though, he was afraid that he would go to hell--why he would think he'd go to hell is beyond me), and I know that he's at peace and happy. But I miss him.
You see, he gave me the world. When I was 15 he took me with him to Canada, since my G'ma had no interest in traveling. And when I was 16 he took me to Ireland, and we toured the country, and ended up meeting some of his father's family. He had always wanted to go to Ireland. And, as a matter of fact, he had wanted to go back, in the late 1990's, but by then my G'ma was too frail and he felt like he couldn't leave her in the house alone. So he never did go back, and I know that it was a sadness for him, because he felt a kinship with the land of 1000 shades of green.
But he gave me more than these trips. He gave me laughter, and humor, and interest in social justice, and he helped us all through our lives, giving a little money here or there when I needed it--for instance, he gave me $3000 towards the downpayment of my Nissan truck in 1997, when the crap 1984 Pontiac Sunbird that I had been driving finally gave up the ghost. He was kind and thoughtful and loving. In many ways, he was more like a father (even long distance living in Maryland) than some paternal unit of mine I could mention.
I'm glad he's not on all those tubes anymore. I'm glad he's with Jesus, whom he loved, and his brothers and his sister and everyone who mattered to him who died before he did. But I am sorry for myself, and sorry for this world, because it has lost someone precious.
P.S. If one more person says to me, "He was 90 and he had a good run," I'm going to deck him. This is what the b/f said to me, and I'd still like to kick him in the ass. So he was 90! Does that cavalier attitude lessen the loss I feel? Um, the correct answer, Bonehead Boyfriend, is no.
You see, he gave me the world. When I was 15 he took me with him to Canada, since my G'ma had no interest in traveling. And when I was 16 he took me to Ireland, and we toured the country, and ended up meeting some of his father's family. He had always wanted to go to Ireland. And, as a matter of fact, he had wanted to go back, in the late 1990's, but by then my G'ma was too frail and he felt like he couldn't leave her in the house alone. So he never did go back, and I know that it was a sadness for him, because he felt a kinship with the land of 1000 shades of green.
But he gave me more than these trips. He gave me laughter, and humor, and interest in social justice, and he helped us all through our lives, giving a little money here or there when I needed it--for instance, he gave me $3000 towards the downpayment of my Nissan truck in 1997, when the crap 1984 Pontiac Sunbird that I had been driving finally gave up the ghost. He was kind and thoughtful and loving. In many ways, he was more like a father (even long distance living in Maryland) than some paternal unit of mine I could mention.
I'm glad he's not on all those tubes anymore. I'm glad he's with Jesus, whom he loved, and his brothers and his sister and everyone who mattered to him who died before he did. But I am sorry for myself, and sorry for this world, because it has lost someone precious.
P.S. If one more person says to me, "He was 90 and he had a good run," I'm going to deck him. This is what the b/f said to me, and I'd still like to kick him in the ass. So he was 90! Does that cavalier attitude lessen the loss I feel? Um, the correct answer, Bonehead Boyfriend, is no.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Schadenfreudelicious!
Last night, I heard from a friend that I had not talked to in quite a while. Last Novemember, he moved, and he never reconnected his Internet. He also didn't bother hooking up his phone. He basically vanished.
I met him 2 months before I left Midwestern City, Midwestern State, and I fell hard and fast for him--the term "crazy in love" comes to mind. He was beautiful and funny and smart... and a little dangerous. A man with a past. In fact, when I knew I was going to graduate from Midwestern U, I began to look like a madwoman to find jobs just so that I could stay and be near him--I was the anti-feminist, in other words. I was so besotted, that I would have given up moving to this crap Southern city, and not take this crap job, if he had given me the slightest encouragement to stay. I would have done some crap retail job just to be with him. But, instead he told me I needed to go, and so I did.
I called him every day for the first few weeks. We had been in the habit of talking on the phone every day, if we didn't see each other. But after several weeks, he told me to "move on," which was brutal, and unkind, but I tried. And dated a string of idiots in the process.
ANYWAY. Last night, he was online--apparently he was hijacking someone's WiFi--and it was great to talk to him. Especially because (and this is petty, and I apologize) he told me that this wonderful woman that he was dating and crazy about (as of 4/06--the same woman he told me not to be jealous of, and not to wish I was her, just so I could still be with him!) is a bitch, he hates her, he never meant to date her (he just "fell into it") and he is just picking his time to break up with her.
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! SUCKA!!! You know, I may miss that man a lot--I miss his friendship, I miss him in bed, I miss his laugh--but I don't think much of his taste in women! He could have had me! But he chose Little Miss Petite & Perfect and she has fucked him over.
Sometimes, life is sweet. Petty, but sweet.
I met him 2 months before I left Midwestern City, Midwestern State, and I fell hard and fast for him--the term "crazy in love" comes to mind. He was beautiful and funny and smart... and a little dangerous. A man with a past. In fact, when I knew I was going to graduate from Midwestern U, I began to look like a madwoman to find jobs just so that I could stay and be near him--I was the anti-feminist, in other words. I was so besotted, that I would have given up moving to this crap Southern city, and not take this crap job, if he had given me the slightest encouragement to stay. I would have done some crap retail job just to be with him. But, instead he told me I needed to go, and so I did.
I called him every day for the first few weeks. We had been in the habit of talking on the phone every day, if we didn't see each other. But after several weeks, he told me to "move on," which was brutal, and unkind, but I tried. And dated a string of idiots in the process.
ANYWAY. Last night, he was online--apparently he was hijacking someone's WiFi--and it was great to talk to him. Especially because (and this is petty, and I apologize) he told me that this wonderful woman that he was dating and crazy about (as of 4/06--the same woman he told me not to be jealous of, and not to wish I was her, just so I could still be with him!) is a bitch, he hates her, he never meant to date her (he just "fell into it") and he is just picking his time to break up with her.
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! SUCKA!!! You know, I may miss that man a lot--I miss his friendship, I miss him in bed, I miss his laugh--but I don't think much of his taste in women! He could have had me! But he chose Little Miss Petite & Perfect and she has fucked him over.
Sometimes, life is sweet. Petty, but sweet.
Back at School
And so I find myself back at the ol' grind, doing the same crap I keep doing, and wondering what the hell is the point.
College teachers are a dime a dozen. And that's about all they get paid. I really think I want to become a secretary. I think I'd get paid more, and I wouldn't have papers to bring home with me.
Qu'est-ce-que c'est le point?
College teachers are a dime a dozen. And that's about all they get paid. I really think I want to become a secretary. I think I'd get paid more, and I wouldn't have papers to bring home with me.
Qu'est-ce-que c'est le point?
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Fare Thee Well
My grandfather died; the funeral was this past Friday. It was horrible to say goodbye, but it was more horrible watching him suffer in the hospital for all those days, on all those tubes.
I don't think much of a "science" that keeps people "alive" when they so clearly should be allowed to rest.
I am just so much devastated by his death though.
I don't think much of a "science" that keeps people "alive" when they so clearly should be allowed to rest.
I am just so much devastated by his death though.
Friday, June 8, 2007
Pneumonia Again
I thought this would finally be the weekend I could escape down to visit Butterfly Cauldron in BR. I'm finally over my cold. And then my grandfather went into the hospital with pneumonia again, and my mother needs me here.
I feel like crying.
I feel like crying.
Saturday, June 2, 2007
Why God?
Between having headaches or migraines almost every day for the last 3 weeks, insomnia, a cold, and general depression, it's a wonder I'm even alive.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Sixes and Sevens
That's how I'm feeling. I seem to be kinda floating right now. Not depressed, exactly, but certainly not focused or "happy," whatever that is. It's weird having this time off, because there are things I know I should be doing--and yet, I can't quite seem to do them. (For instance, I should be preparing for summer school, looking for jobs, and trying to straighten out my finances, but the thought of doing any of those makes my head explode.)
Bleah.
Bleah.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Temptation
Today, a girl somewhere in her teen years rang the doorbell. In her arms was the most perfect little squirming, mewing kitten I have ever seen. She asked, "Is this your kitten?" I said it wasn't, but HOW I WANTED HER TO BE MY KITTEN. The girl asked me if I knew whose kitten it was, and I told her I didn't, and then she asked me if I wanted her. That's when the kitten looked right into my eyes, and I almost died. I wanted to say, "Yes, this is my kitten, thank you for finding her." But what I said was, "I would love to keep her, but my Mother would kill me." The girl mentioned that both she and her mom were allergic, and I just wanted to scoop that kitten into my arms.
If my slumlord of a landlady would allow more than one cat, I would have taken the little cream kitten in a heartbeat. I loved her sooo much. She was just perfect. But my Mother already has enough to do with Baby and with the outside cats who belong to my sister. I knew she would be furious if I had taken the little kitten off the girl's hands...
If I owned my own house, I could have taken that kitten. Now I'm all depressed and sad again. Though I am sure my Cat would not be so happy if he suddenly found he had a little sister.
If my slumlord of a landlady would allow more than one cat, I would have taken the little cream kitten in a heartbeat. I loved her sooo much. She was just perfect. But my Mother already has enough to do with Baby and with the outside cats who belong to my sister. I knew she would be furious if I had taken the little kitten off the girl's hands...
If I owned my own house, I could have taken that kitten. Now I'm all depressed and sad again. Though I am sure my Cat would not be so happy if he suddenly found he had a little sister.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Tomorrow, I Am Officially Over the Hill
Tomorrow is my birthday, and I've been doing the usual self-evaluation things that you do when you are about to approach a milestone birthday--that is, recognize that you are a failure and your life is over.
Examples:
1. When my Mom was my age, she had a husband and two children. I have a cat.
2. I have a bogus job, that I get paid a pittance for. I read in the paper that a person with a high school education can expect to earn $22,000 a year, which is only a few thousand less than I am making right now, and I have a Ph.D.
3. No one will publish my poetry. Which means, I'll never be A Famous Poet, which is, frankly, all I've ever wanted to be.
4. If my weight were a country, I would be Australia. Considering Boyfriend is the size of Bora Bora, this is a sad discrepancy.
5. I do not own a house.
6. Everything I own, including my beloved Red Couches, still resides in a non-climate-controlled storage unit in Small Town, Midwestern State. Also included: my entire library, most of my CDs and DVDs, and my antique piano. There is no opportunity to retrieve my worldly goods, as I have no money to move them. The likelihood that one or all of these items have been ruined: 98%.
7. I have no friends in Big City, Southern State.
8. Bogus Job Issue #2: Next year is the last year of the 3-year gig, and I have yet to find another job that a) pays at least $15K better, and b) is anywhere near where Boyfriend lives. Oh, and c) I do not have the publication credits to make the liklihood of a good academic job even remotely...err...likely.
9. I owe the Department of Education a staggering amount of money for student loans, which I will be repaying in retirement. Unless my father dies very soon and leaves me money, which I doubt. Considering that he's probably cut me out of his will anyway (on the advice of the Succubus Queen), chance of inheritance: 0.2%.
10. Despite protests to the contrary, in my heart of hearts, I feel that I will always be unloveable. Please, this is not a plea for either of my two readers to contribute to the protestations. I know you both love me. I know that Boyfriend, Sister, Mother, Old Friends, and Cat love me. But that doesn't mean that I feel loveable. Morevover, the truth is, I cannot love myself for any of the above reasons, and for probably 1 million other reasons that I don't want to go into right now.
Happy Birthday to Me. I think I will go chuck myself off the nearest building.
Examples:
1. When my Mom was my age, she had a husband and two children. I have a cat.
2. I have a bogus job, that I get paid a pittance for. I read in the paper that a person with a high school education can expect to earn $22,000 a year, which is only a few thousand less than I am making right now, and I have a Ph.D.
3. No one will publish my poetry. Which means, I'll never be A Famous Poet, which is, frankly, all I've ever wanted to be.
4. If my weight were a country, I would be Australia. Considering Boyfriend is the size of Bora Bora, this is a sad discrepancy.
5. I do not own a house.
6. Everything I own, including my beloved Red Couches, still resides in a non-climate-controlled storage unit in Small Town, Midwestern State. Also included: my entire library, most of my CDs and DVDs, and my antique piano. There is no opportunity to retrieve my worldly goods, as I have no money to move them. The likelihood that one or all of these items have been ruined: 98%.
7. I have no friends in Big City, Southern State.
8. Bogus Job Issue #2: Next year is the last year of the 3-year gig, and I have yet to find another job that a) pays at least $15K better, and b) is anywhere near where Boyfriend lives. Oh, and c) I do not have the publication credits to make the liklihood of a good academic job even remotely...err...likely.
9. I owe the Department of Education a staggering amount of money for student loans, which I will be repaying in retirement. Unless my father dies very soon and leaves me money, which I doubt. Considering that he's probably cut me out of his will anyway (on the advice of the Succubus Queen), chance of inheritance: 0.2%.
10. Despite protests to the contrary, in my heart of hearts, I feel that I will always be unloveable. Please, this is not a plea for either of my two readers to contribute to the protestations. I know you both love me. I know that Boyfriend, Sister, Mother, Old Friends, and Cat love me. But that doesn't mean that I feel loveable. Morevover, the truth is, I cannot love myself for any of the above reasons, and for probably 1 million other reasons that I don't want to go into right now.
Happy Birthday to Me. I think I will go chuck myself off the nearest building.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Gahh, Students!
The last few days, b/f has been in town, and so I haven't had the opportunity really to go online or check my work e-mail, but I did that today, and man, am I sorry. There were 12 messages from students bitching about their grades--though, granted, four were from the same person. I hate that they think they can bully me into changing their grades. And I have to admit that I am particularly cranky right now anyway, and their complaints after the fact really irritate me. Frankly, after the semester is over (or a week before it's over, in the case of one student) is NOT the time to be pestering your teacher about how the grade can be improved... You know how the grade can be improved? DO A GOOD JOB THE FIRST TIME AND TURN IN YOUR WORK. Gee, how hard is that?
This is the BS that makes me HATE being a teacher. I am so sick of their dramas and trying to guilt me into fixing their grades. One student who got a a C in the class wrote me a note telling me how suprised and disappointed he was to receive a C. I wrote him back and said that if he had turned in the second annotation assignment and received at least an 78% on it, he would have earned enough points to get his precious B. I'm sure he's going to e-mail me back and try to convince me that he turned it in--but the fact is, students have to turn in a hard copy for me to grade, and an uploaded copy into a anti-cheating database of student work, and when I checked it, there was only 1 out of the 2 annotation assignments there. So he won't have a leg to stand on--but the fact is, he's going to e-mail me any way and bitch some more. I just hate this stuff.
In other news, I'm leaving tomorrow to visit my Mom. It will be a welcome respite from this hellhole city I live in.
This is the BS that makes me HATE being a teacher. I am so sick of their dramas and trying to guilt me into fixing their grades. One student who got a a C in the class wrote me a note telling me how suprised and disappointed he was to receive a C. I wrote him back and said that if he had turned in the second annotation assignment and received at least an 78% on it, he would have earned enough points to get his precious B. I'm sure he's going to e-mail me back and try to convince me that he turned it in--but the fact is, students have to turn in a hard copy for me to grade, and an uploaded copy into a anti-cheating database of student work, and when I checked it, there was only 1 out of the 2 annotation assignments there. So he won't have a leg to stand on--but the fact is, he's going to e-mail me any way and bitch some more. I just hate this stuff.
In other news, I'm leaving tomorrow to visit my Mom. It will be a welcome respite from this hellhole city I live in.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
A Stranger Approaches
Today, after I finished meeting with a student and doing some more grading on campus, I went to my favorite salad bar restaurant, Lettuce Souprise you. Their soup is always marginal, but their salad is great, and I try to go there if not every week, at least every other week. I couldn't go tomorrow (if I go, it's usually on a Friday after work) because I have a meeting at 12:30 and I don't know how long it will run.
Anyway, as I was buttering a corn muffin, this very attractive blond man (who had come in after I did with his other attractive blond man friend) came over and started to talk to me. Told me that he and his friend noticed me, that they haven't been in the city long, and are looking for new friends. So we chatted for 10 minutes, and they said that they noticed that I looked "happy" and that they like happy people. He was very clear to make sure that I knew he wasn't picking me up--which is a good thing--picking me up would break anyone's bones to rubble--but that they don't know anyone and thought I might be a kindred spirit. He gave me his phone number, and I gave him mine. He invited me out to a lesbian country bar tonight, but I told him that I would be grading. Which, hopefully, I will be. ;)
I do love the idea of a lesbian country bar, though.
I might just call him. Dare I?
Anyway, as I was buttering a corn muffin, this very attractive blond man (who had come in after I did with his other attractive blond man friend) came over and started to talk to me. Told me that he and his friend noticed me, that they haven't been in the city long, and are looking for new friends. So we chatted for 10 minutes, and they said that they noticed that I looked "happy" and that they like happy people. He was very clear to make sure that I knew he wasn't picking me up--which is a good thing--picking me up would break anyone's bones to rubble--but that they don't know anyone and thought I might be a kindred spirit. He gave me his phone number, and I gave him mine. He invited me out to a lesbian country bar tonight, but I told him that I would be grading. Which, hopefully, I will be. ;)
I do love the idea of a lesbian country bar, though.
I might just call him. Dare I?
Reading Blogs of People You Hate
I've been reading the blog of a former best friend who was quite repugnant to me back in the day, who dropped me as her friend for who knows what reason. I think it had something to do with my depression, which yes, was bad, but also to do with her insane self-involvement, and the fact that as a person, she is so morally decayed that she thinks it's ok to eviscerate her "friends" when they don't behave like she thinks they ought. Anyway, I finally had to stop looking at it, because I was starting to hyperventilate. Ok, maybe I wasn't that mad, but I was certainly annoyed.
Anyway, the moral of the story is, those people suck, and I'm going to try not to read her blog any more. Because the urge to write a really snotty comment is quite overwhelming, but I don't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that a) she's gotten to me; b) I have this blog; and c) that I'm even expending the energy to hate her. I should follow my own advice to people who have sitches like this: DISENGAGE. Be the anti-Captain Picard. DISENGAGE. MAKE IT SO.
Anyway, the moral of the story is, those people suck, and I'm going to try not to read her blog any more. Because the urge to write a really snotty comment is quite overwhelming, but I don't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that a) she's gotten to me; b) I have this blog; and c) that I'm even expending the energy to hate her. I should follow my own advice to people who have sitches like this: DISENGAGE. Be the anti-Captain Picard. DISENGAGE. MAKE IT SO.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
I Do This Every Semester (DAMN ME!!)
I am sitting on my bed, surrounded with about four bazillion student papers and wondering how the hell I'm going to get it all graded. Now granted, I've got a whole week before grades are due (I think--I best check that out!), but I'd rather get them done sooner rather than later (like I usually do)--which if I had done the grading for the annotated bibs ontime, then I wouldn't be having this problem. On the other hand, half the classes turned them in late, so that also put me behind--but that's no excuse. The truth is, I suck when it comes to grading. Plus, I still have to grade reading journals --which I mostly just spotcheck--and the webpages--which won't take long, but it's still ONE MORE THING--and then do all the GD adding of points and blah, blah, blah. Well, you know how it is. Maybe one day I will not procrastinate like I do. But let's face it... the habit is ingrained. And I never change... I mean, hell, speaking of procrastinating--I'm here writing this blog, aren't I? It's hopeless. Oy.
I guess what I really ought to do is when they turn in their work, I should just stay at the office till I get at least 2-3 hours of grading done. If I did that every class day, I'd be in a better place than finding myself at the end of the semester inundated with work. Part of the problem too is that the first part of the semester, the workload is light, and then in the last month of teaching, I get in 500 points worth of work to grade for each student. For instance, I picked up the annotated bibs on 4/13; their final reading journals on 4/18; and had final projects from 4/23 to 4/27. It's easy to get behind when you get so much work at the end. But the long and short of it is, is that I procrastinate like a maniac. Because I suck.
In my only defense, I have to say that I've had terrible migraines for the last two weeks, and the only thing I can do when that happens is crawl into my bed and sleep. Which is also not conducive for getting work done.
And finally, I'm PMSing bigtime... bleah.
I guess what I really ought to do is when they turn in their work, I should just stay at the office till I get at least 2-3 hours of grading done. If I did that every class day, I'd be in a better place than finding myself at the end of the semester inundated with work. Part of the problem too is that the first part of the semester, the workload is light, and then in the last month of teaching, I get in 500 points worth of work to grade for each student. For instance, I picked up the annotated bibs on 4/13; their final reading journals on 4/18; and had final projects from 4/23 to 4/27. It's easy to get behind when you get so much work at the end. But the long and short of it is, is that I procrastinate like a maniac. Because I suck.
In my only defense, I have to say that I've had terrible migraines for the last two weeks, and the only thing I can do when that happens is crawl into my bed and sleep. Which is also not conducive for getting work done.
And finally, I'm PMSing bigtime... bleah.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
A Department Thing
Today, I stayed at school to grade, instead of hotfooting it home like I usually do. There was also a "Good Bye" party for the faculty Fellows who aren't returning next year (either because this was their Third Year or because they got a decently-paying job elsewhere) at a local pub, about a mile and a half from the school. Not only did I want to say goodbye to a couple of my friends, but hell, let's face it: free food. Sometimes I'm still in graduate school mode--I can be lured with food. Of course people could have wine or beer too, though I stuck to Cokes, being as I detest beer and wine detests me.
One of the Third Years, a dear, brilliant, man who is leaving, had applied earlier in the year for a tenure-track job at my school--and should have been a shoe-in, except that he got screwed. I won't go into the details--they steam my clams--but I was so angry for him today. I mean, he couldn't have been more cordial and friendly if he tried, and when the head of the department was talking to him, and saying how much the department will miss him, I wanted to beat the GD lying SOB with my shoe. It was so fricken phony. It's possible that the head of the department was NOT on the hiring committee, but I find that hard to believe. And moreover, how could he say all these nice things, full knowing how shitty the school had been to him? He was just so unbelievably phony--I do not like that man. I couldn't have been so gracious as my friend was. But I was seriously disgusted at the hypocrisy. I was totally channeling Holden Caulfield or something.
Anyway--despite the obnoxious phoniness of the whole shebang--"oh, we're going to miss you people so much" PUH-LEEZ--I did get to hang out with my Second Year friends and chat with them and eat good bar food and that was fun. And we were there till 8:30, and the thing started at 5:30. It was the most socializing I've done in a long time. Normally, I'm such a hermit.
One of the Third Years, a dear, brilliant, man who is leaving, had applied earlier in the year for a tenure-track job at my school--and should have been a shoe-in, except that he got screwed. I won't go into the details--they steam my clams--but I was so angry for him today. I mean, he couldn't have been more cordial and friendly if he tried, and when the head of the department was talking to him, and saying how much the department will miss him, I wanted to beat the GD lying SOB with my shoe. It was so fricken phony. It's possible that the head of the department was NOT on the hiring committee, but I find that hard to believe. And moreover, how could he say all these nice things, full knowing how shitty the school had been to him? He was just so unbelievably phony--I do not like that man. I couldn't have been so gracious as my friend was. But I was seriously disgusted at the hypocrisy. I was totally channeling Holden Caulfield or something.
Anyway--despite the obnoxious phoniness of the whole shebang--"oh, we're going to miss you people so much" PUH-LEEZ--I did get to hang out with my Second Year friends and chat with them and eat good bar food and that was fun. And we were there till 8:30, and the thing started at 5:30. It was the most socializing I've done in a long time. Normally, I'm such a hermit.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Teaching Tech Writing Next Sem
Initially, I was assigned Comp 1 for next fall, and had been planning on teaching it as an argument/ ecofem class, and I was really looking forward to it, because for one thing, it's something I cared about, and for another, I thought it would be cool. But they have since reassigned me to teach technical writing, which theoretically will be a lot less grading, and that's a good thing. But I'm afraid that I'll be bored. And I'm not much of a lecturer. I am mostly just a book discusser. That's what matters to me--that people think (and think well).
I think that's probably why I'm a bad comp teacher (ok, I'm not bad--but I'm not a Comp Queen like others I know)--because I'd argue it's more important for students to think well, than it is for them to write well. I'm probably in a minority. I'm sure most comp teachers want students to do BOTH. But I don't think it's possible to construct good arguments in writing until students can really understand the material on a deeper level. I think they should teach a class on thinking.... and I'm not talking a class on philosophy (which to me, was excruciating). But just honest and true critical thinking. I'd love to do that. But I doubt an opportunity will come up for that, because I think I'm in the minority when it comes to articulating pedagogy as "thinking first, writing later." And more than that, I'm not at a liberal arts school.
But I have decided to teach ecofem this summer. The independent bookstore where I order my books has assured me that it can get 25 copies of the out-of-print book of essays on ecofem that I love, and so I'm looking forward to that. I'm also having students read a book on women's nature writing--kind of blind, because I haven't been able to get a hold of a copy--but it sounds good from what I've read. Probably in 6 weeks, I'll have to do a lot of squeezing in, and not get to teach everything I want, but it will be ok. I'm going to make it ok. Last summer I taught an intro to pop culture, which I don't know how successful it was, but I enjoyed it. I'm hoping that this intro to women's ecology and ecofem will work out all right. It will have to sustain me through my dance with tech writing until I get back to teaching real stuff.
In other news, because my first class finished their project presentations, I don't have a 9:00 class this morning, which is good. The bad thing is, I didn't really get to say goodbye to them, as today is the last day of classes. But I'll probably send them an e-mail to tell them when they can expect their grades, wish them well on finals.
I think that's probably why I'm a bad comp teacher (ok, I'm not bad--but I'm not a Comp Queen like others I know)--because I'd argue it's more important for students to think well, than it is for them to write well. I'm probably in a minority. I'm sure most comp teachers want students to do BOTH. But I don't think it's possible to construct good arguments in writing until students can really understand the material on a deeper level. I think they should teach a class on thinking.... and I'm not talking a class on philosophy (which to me, was excruciating). But just honest and true critical thinking. I'd love to do that. But I doubt an opportunity will come up for that, because I think I'm in the minority when it comes to articulating pedagogy as "thinking first, writing later." And more than that, I'm not at a liberal arts school.
But I have decided to teach ecofem this summer. The independent bookstore where I order my books has assured me that it can get 25 copies of the out-of-print book of essays on ecofem that I love, and so I'm looking forward to that. I'm also having students read a book on women's nature writing--kind of blind, because I haven't been able to get a hold of a copy--but it sounds good from what I've read. Probably in 6 weeks, I'll have to do a lot of squeezing in, and not get to teach everything I want, but it will be ok. I'm going to make it ok. Last summer I taught an intro to pop culture, which I don't know how successful it was, but I enjoyed it. I'm hoping that this intro to women's ecology and ecofem will work out all right. It will have to sustain me through my dance with tech writing until I get back to teaching real stuff.
In other news, because my first class finished their project presentations, I don't have a 9:00 class this morning, which is good. The bad thing is, I didn't really get to say goodbye to them, as today is the last day of classes. But I'll probably send them an e-mail to tell them when they can expect their grades, wish them well on finals.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
More Disappointing Student Projects--and Other Crap
As my students gave their presentations on dystopias today, I was saddened to think that, in a composition class, where they were given free reign (within reason) to come up with a website that allowed them to imagine and create a culture (and all its parts--politics, social welfare, health, race, class, gender, geography, etc., etc., etc.), that the best they could do was envision Hitler as the god that one dystopia prayed to. Technically, we're not supposed to allow them to do creative work in the comp class--the department is very strict in that sense.
But to me, how better can students demonstrate that they've learned and understood the class concepts by having to develop a web project of their dystopia/utopia? It seems to me, if they have to consider all the myriad things it takes to create a culture, then surely they could come up with something much more impressive than what they did. Last fall, some of the dystopias or utopias that students came up with were amazing--I mean, knocked my socks off. The ones I've seen both Monday and today are just generic and hohum. I was really disappointed in them. They could have done much better. And more than that, they SHOULD have done much better. These students are supposed to be the cream of the crop--the average incoming GPA at my school is 3.75. I was prepared to be impressed with their work, and just wasn't.
*********
In other news, I got another rejection letter. I don't know what would make my poetry publishable, but clearly, I'm not doing it. Sometimes I think that I just don't write what people care about--and then when I see all the work I have, that nobody wants, it makes me question why I even bother a) writing, and b) sending stuff out. I've had as much success getting my poems published not sending them out as sending them out--which is to say, none.
Of course, when I read Poetry (Magazine), which is the PREMIER literary journal for publishing poems--and if you publish here, you have ARRIVED--I always stumble over how unintelligible the work is to me. Am I stupid? Or do I just value poems that are open and clear? Forgoddessake, I have a PhD in poetry--and most of the poems they print every month I just don't understand. If I had creative writing students who wrote like that, I'd be the first to tell them that they need to consider their audience more carefully and write with language that is clear and concrete and visual. Most of the time, I have no idea what those writers are talking about--and it makes me upset. Because I think if I could write like they do, maybe someone would publish my work. But I don't know how to write in fragments like they do. I don't know how to--and more than that, I don't want to. But sometimes I think, if I want to be published, maybe I have to reconsider my sense of aesthetics? Because what I'm doing is not working. And goddess knows, I'll never get a job in academia if I don't start racking up the pub list.
And yet I still wonder--do I have to sell myself this way?
But to me, how better can students demonstrate that they've learned and understood the class concepts by having to develop a web project of their dystopia/utopia? It seems to me, if they have to consider all the myriad things it takes to create a culture, then surely they could come up with something much more impressive than what they did. Last fall, some of the dystopias or utopias that students came up with were amazing--I mean, knocked my socks off. The ones I've seen both Monday and today are just generic and hohum. I was really disappointed in them. They could have done much better. And more than that, they SHOULD have done much better. These students are supposed to be the cream of the crop--the average incoming GPA at my school is 3.75. I was prepared to be impressed with their work, and just wasn't.
*********
In other news, I got another rejection letter. I don't know what would make my poetry publishable, but clearly, I'm not doing it. Sometimes I think that I just don't write what people care about--and then when I see all the work I have, that nobody wants, it makes me question why I even bother a) writing, and b) sending stuff out. I've had as much success getting my poems published not sending them out as sending them out--which is to say, none.
Of course, when I read Poetry (Magazine), which is the PREMIER literary journal for publishing poems--and if you publish here, you have ARRIVED--I always stumble over how unintelligible the work is to me. Am I stupid? Or do I just value poems that are open and clear? Forgoddessake, I have a PhD in poetry--and most of the poems they print every month I just don't understand. If I had creative writing students who wrote like that, I'd be the first to tell them that they need to consider their audience more carefully and write with language that is clear and concrete and visual. Most of the time, I have no idea what those writers are talking about--and it makes me upset. Because I think if I could write like they do, maybe someone would publish my work. But I don't know how to write in fragments like they do. I don't know how to--and more than that, I don't want to. But sometimes I think, if I want to be published, maybe I have to reconsider my sense of aesthetics? Because what I'm doing is not working. And goddess knows, I'll never get a job in academia if I don't start racking up the pub list.
And yet I still wonder--do I have to sell myself this way?
Reed Richards
I seem to be having strange dreams lately, which is unusual for me, since I don't seem to dream. When I was on a coctail of antidepressants, I dreamed quite a bit. Now that I'm not taking them, I don't seem to dream--or just rarely, like last night.
Reed Richards is Mr. Fantastic from the Fantastic Four, which was my FAVORITE comic as a girl. I loved the comic, I loved the show, but Mr. Fantastic was not my favorite of the group--it was (and always will be) Ben (The Thing). I used to daydream about marrying Ben--even though he was orange and rocky. I think it was his tortured soul--and his matter-of-fact attitude--that appealed to me. Anyway, last night, I dreamed that it was Reed who kissed me--of course, it was Ioan Griffudd from the 2005 movie (who, by the way, really doesn't do anything for me, and if we're talking about the movie, let's be honest here--Michael Chiklis's Ben was totally dreamy). The weird thing was that I let him kiss me--even though I knew I was dating my b/f.
It was weird too that I felt disloyal but also sinful in a good way. I have no idea what it means.
In a somewhat related note, I am looking forward to seeing The Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer when it comes out this summer. I don't usually like comic book movies, but I do have a soft spot for F4.
Reed Richards is Mr. Fantastic from the Fantastic Four, which was my FAVORITE comic as a girl. I loved the comic, I loved the show, but Mr. Fantastic was not my favorite of the group--it was (and always will be) Ben (The Thing). I used to daydream about marrying Ben--even though he was orange and rocky. I think it was his tortured soul--and his matter-of-fact attitude--that appealed to me. Anyway, last night, I dreamed that it was Reed who kissed me--of course, it was Ioan Griffudd from the 2005 movie (who, by the way, really doesn't do anything for me, and if we're talking about the movie, let's be honest here--Michael Chiklis's Ben was totally dreamy). The weird thing was that I let him kiss me--even though I knew I was dating my b/f.
It was weird too that I felt disloyal but also sinful in a good way. I have no idea what it means.
In a somewhat related note, I am looking forward to seeing The Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer when it comes out this summer. I don't usually like comic book movies, but I do have a soft spot for F4.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Not Getting Much Done, Attempt 2
That was so weird. I remember clicking on a button in the settings that said it would put a choice to transliterate into Hindi, but I didn't realize that it would automatically transliterate the title. Hence, I changed it back.
Right now, I'm getting IMmed from a jerk I had a ONS with over a year ago. He periodically e-mails me to find out if I'm having sex with anyone. For the longest, after the ONS, I said I had decided to be celibate. It wasn't true, but it was a good way to keep him from hassling me. What I need to do is block his name so I wouldn't get IMs from him. Of course, I did that with his old IM name, and he just sent me an IM under his new name. I could also just tell him he was so bad in bed that I would never even consider talking to him. But that is mean. And I try very hard not to be mean. Even to people I don't particularly like.
I thought about doing some grading today. I thought about it, and then I didn't think about it. I've been having a hard day. I just feel worthless and sad. And I have a headache. And my cat caught another mouse and brought it in the apartment. I don't know. I just seem to be stagnating.
I was reading Doggerel's blog instead. And looking around on Blogger to find new and interesting people to read. Found a few that I put in my links list.
Maybe I should go to bed. Even if it's only 6 p.m. in the evening.... Of course, I went to bed at 3 p.m. yesterday, with a migraine. I get those a lot. I'm beginning to think I'm so stressed out that it's manifesting itself in headaches--like one every day. True, it's the end of the semester, and normally that really does stress me out. But I think it's worse this time. Much worse.
Right now, I'm getting IMmed from a jerk I had a ONS with over a year ago. He periodically e-mails me to find out if I'm having sex with anyone. For the longest, after the ONS, I said I had decided to be celibate. It wasn't true, but it was a good way to keep him from hassling me. What I need to do is block his name so I wouldn't get IMs from him. Of course, I did that with his old IM name, and he just sent me an IM under his new name. I could also just tell him he was so bad in bed that I would never even consider talking to him. But that is mean. And I try very hard not to be mean. Even to people I don't particularly like.
I thought about doing some grading today. I thought about it, and then I didn't think about it. I've been having a hard day. I just feel worthless and sad. And I have a headache. And my cat caught another mouse and brought it in the apartment. I don't know. I just seem to be stagnating.
I was reading Doggerel's blog instead. And looking around on Blogger to find new and interesting people to read. Found a few that I put in my links list.
Maybe I should go to bed. Even if it's only 6 p.m. in the evening.... Of course, I went to bed at 3 p.m. yesterday, with a migraine. I get those a lot. I'm beginning to think I'm so stressed out that it's manifesting itself in headaches--like one every day. True, it's the end of the semester, and normally that really does stress me out. But I think it's worse this time. Much worse.
नॉट गेत्तिंग अन्य वर्क दोने
Why is this writing everything in Hindi? I will come back once I figure out what is wrong.
Why "Mermatriarch"?
There is a framed poster here in my bedroom, of John William Waterhouse's painting A Mermaid (1901) that I have loved since the first time I saw it. In fact, it's safe to say that of all the mythological creatures, mermaids are my favorite. I'm not sure what it is that I love about them--perhaps because they are beautiful, and I am not, perhaps because I admire their vanity and capriciousness, the way they sun themselves on the shore and lure men to their deaths--or at least, to broken hearts.
What I love a bout the painting, that features a red-haried mermaid combing her hair, is that her mouth is just slightly open, as if she wants to say something, but she's not looking at the artist, but off to the left. Perhaps she's seen something that's made her gasp, but not startled her enough to take her away from her grooming. I think that I would like to be her. I would like to have the option to swim off to sea, to get away from land and stay wrapped in the ocean for as long as I want. It would be a kind of death-in-life. That appeals to me.
Of course, the word "Mermatriarch" implies (mermaid) motherhood, and I have no children, and certainly not any mermaids, but I liked the idea of the word, the idea that I could be a kind of queen to these creatures that I love so much. Maybe someday I will write a story or a poem about a Mermatriarch.
Not that anyone wants my poems. I got another rejection letter yesterday.
What I love a bout the painting, that features a red-haried mermaid combing her hair, is that her mouth is just slightly open, as if she wants to say something, but she's not looking at the artist, but off to the left. Perhaps she's seen something that's made her gasp, but not startled her enough to take her away from her grooming. I think that I would like to be her. I would like to have the option to swim off to sea, to get away from land and stay wrapped in the ocean for as long as I want. It would be a kind of death-in-life. That appeals to me.
Of course, the word "Mermatriarch" implies (mermaid) motherhood, and I have no children, and certainly not any mermaids, but I liked the idea of the word, the idea that I could be a kind of queen to these creatures that I love so much. Maybe someday I will write a story or a poem about a Mermatriarch.
Not that anyone wants my poems. I got another rejection letter yesterday.
Monday, April 23, 2007
I Don't Understand My Students
It always happens that when it comes to final projects, some students do an amazing job, and some depress me with their lackadaisical approach. It happened on one of the projects in my second hour class--it was a lame website, with few of the features that I asked my students to consider as well as few of the concepts I asked them to discuss. I was so disappointed in the absolute lack of work that they did. In fact, I wound up asking them all of these questions about why they made the choices they did, because they didn't answer any of the questions I thought they should have. As the students were leaving, I heard one say, "That was a really hard project," and I wondered what he could have meant. Because it didn't look to me that they spent more than a couple of hours putting it together.
Then another group did a project that was racist against Muslims, and I hoped desperately that there were no Muslims in my class. I asked them about why they approached their dystopia with such virulent anti-Muslim racism, and they said they basically extrapolated on the current way society is structured.... Granted, dystopias are often founded on racist principles, but I've spent 15 weeks talking about why that stuff is bad. I wish they would have framed their racism against people who don't exist--that is, I wish they had imagined some other planet, not the Earth, and had expressed their xenophobia toward a race that didn't have members that we could recognize. I tried to frame their racism in these terms when I called them on it... but I don't think they were aware of how, by reinforcing this current hate, even if we are to read their work as dystopic, there are still real-world implications.
Sometimes I think I'm a terrible teacher. Especially when I see the kind of work I saw today.
Then another group did a project that was racist against Muslims, and I hoped desperately that there were no Muslims in my class. I asked them about why they approached their dystopia with such virulent anti-Muslim racism, and they said they basically extrapolated on the current way society is structured.... Granted, dystopias are often founded on racist principles, but I've spent 15 weeks talking about why that stuff is bad. I wish they would have framed their racism against people who don't exist--that is, I wish they had imagined some other planet, not the Earth, and had expressed their xenophobia toward a race that didn't have members that we could recognize. I tried to frame their racism in these terms when I called them on it... but I don't think they were aware of how, by reinforcing this current hate, even if we are to read their work as dystopic, there are still real-world implications.
Sometimes I think I'm a terrible teacher. Especially when I see the kind of work I saw today.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Why I Need ANOTHER Blog....
...I need a place where no one knows me.
I have a LJ, I have a MySpace, I probably have a couple other blogs here or there, but I use these most frequently. Which isn't that frequently, unless it's for the most banal of posts, since everyone knows about them, and I need some privacy. Because I'm really fucking up in my life. I mean it. I am just betwixt and between and I just don't have any energy to do the kinds of things that I need to: mainly, get a new job.
I am a professor in academia. I teach at a tech school, but my job there is lousy--and it's temporary (I'm finishing year 2 on a 3 year gig). I need to find something better. But I just can't seem to do the work that I need to do to find another job. Sometimes I'm not even sure I want to teach. If I could find a women's studies job--but then, I found one that would have been perfect, and I couldn't seem to get my portfolio together to apply. That's what I mean. I just seem to be stagnating.
I mean, I know that a job isn't going to fall out of the sky. I know that I have to make my teaching portfolio and do that other BS that academic jobs require--and yet I can't seem to motivate myself. I just...subsist. And I'm doing it badly.
I'm a failure. I know this. I have lots of people fooled, since I got my PhD and I teach at a good school, and even my boyfriend thinks I'm pretty together, but I'm really not. And the truth is, sometimes I'm really afraid that the depression that I've suffered my entire life is going to choke me to death... I feel it lurking, right around the corner. And I have health care. I could go to therapy (not that I make a lot of money to spend on therapy, since my student loans are ALSO choking me to death), but I can't even motivate myself enough to find a doctor. I'm just... stuck.
And scared.
And I really, really hate myself. I've been pretending I'm ok--everyone thinks I am. But I'm not.
I have a LJ, I have a MySpace, I probably have a couple other blogs here or there, but I use these most frequently. Which isn't that frequently, unless it's for the most banal of posts, since everyone knows about them, and I need some privacy. Because I'm really fucking up in my life. I mean it. I am just betwixt and between and I just don't have any energy to do the kinds of things that I need to: mainly, get a new job.
I am a professor in academia. I teach at a tech school, but my job there is lousy--and it's temporary (I'm finishing year 2 on a 3 year gig). I need to find something better. But I just can't seem to do the work that I need to do to find another job. Sometimes I'm not even sure I want to teach. If I could find a women's studies job--but then, I found one that would have been perfect, and I couldn't seem to get my portfolio together to apply. That's what I mean. I just seem to be stagnating.
I mean, I know that a job isn't going to fall out of the sky. I know that I have to make my teaching portfolio and do that other BS that academic jobs require--and yet I can't seem to motivate myself. I just...subsist. And I'm doing it badly.
I'm a failure. I know this. I have lots of people fooled, since I got my PhD and I teach at a good school, and even my boyfriend thinks I'm pretty together, but I'm really not. And the truth is, sometimes I'm really afraid that the depression that I've suffered my entire life is going to choke me to death... I feel it lurking, right around the corner. And I have health care. I could go to therapy (not that I make a lot of money to spend on therapy, since my student loans are ALSO choking me to death), but I can't even motivate myself enough to find a doctor. I'm just... stuck.
And scared.
And I really, really hate myself. I've been pretending I'm ok--everyone thinks I am. But I'm not.
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