wait. nevermind. i never wanted to talk to you in the first place, you weirdo.
urgh.

man, fuck this shit. should not have done this degree. self, 7 years ago: DON'T GO TO UVA. BAD CHOICE. GET A REAL JOB INSTEAD IN A PLACE WHERE YOU GET ALONG WITH OTHERS.

things i want:

1) a job that pays me money. enough to live on, wherever it is. enough to afford a mortgage eventually.

2) a job with a minimum of take-home work. about 40-45 hours a week would be perfect. do those exist?

3) a job where i'm treated like an adult.

4) a job where i get to work with other people —no more solitude.

5) ideally, it'd also be interesting-ish (because of what it does, or because of the other people working it, or because of something else), and a 30-50-min-at-the-most commute from where i live.

academia's only 5) and half of 4). so that's out. what should i do next?

fuck that dude and his fucking porkpie hat.

party-planning is a real good distraction.
hate my career, though.
but it's not a career.
i hate the shattered remains of the thing that i had hoped would become a career. also hate this place.

talking to one of the job candidates they're thinking about hiring here, tomorrow. he filed a year ago, and has since been doing a very fancy postdoc. what's it like to be that person? i'd like to find out, i guess. his work looks cool—but, like, does that matter? what's the purpose of working very hard to do that kind of research?

what's the purpose of working hard at school? i can't tell anymore. i don't give a shit about most things.

party should be fun, though. people better goddamn fucking come this year. there's a lot of carefully-filtered and flavored cheap vodka to drink. and a lot of cheap sparkling wine. and i'm going to make a cake, because buying one was going to cost too much.

oh my god. my tribe are the worst tribe ever. i don't want to have to deal with middle-class white people ever ever ever again.

smart people are, also, pretty much terrible.

don't want to get any of this shit done. fuck it all.