you know what? FUCK the conference, and fuck the profession, and fuck their fucking concerns about shit that won't ever affect me again, because the fucking profession doesn't want me.

oh my god. i want to go to c, and pee on something in public, and then dance on top of a bar, singing and showing my tits.

my friends won't let me, of course. they're nice.

i can't make my brain work, but not late enough to sleep.

got my haircut today and had a nice conversation with the stylist about korean baths in sf, and also about how weird everyone is here. i love that conversation way too much. but i'm going to leave, and then i'll never have to have that particular conversation again. and it's going to be so wonderful go leave. wonderful! wonderful! wonderful! i'll be lost and confused and alone in a WHOLE NEW PLACE! or possibly in an old place, and less lost and less confused and not alone. that'd be better.

cold and drizzly today. miss home. miss f, a whole lot. should call. need to call. will call. going to call soon.

well, FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK them.

AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH.

So much angry. Too much coffee. Too much alcohol. Not enough hugs.

man, dancing drunk and sweaty and near-naked is FUN.

yo, self, stop facebooking drunk. strangers don't need you to like all their posts.

also: go take a shower. you smell like a garbage heap.

wikijected from the D job, which i was the most excited about.

called back a number on my phone out of hope and desperation, but it was heifer project. ended up buying f and g a flock of chickens and couldn't keep my voice from wavering on the phone.

went running around the block, yelling fuck yous at mf. seriously, i'm so hurt about this it's ridiculous. the dept. i have a crush on won't ask me to the prom, and now i HATE THAT DEPT. SO MUCH. but i would totally go to the prom with them if they asked, of course.

finish the diss, self. get it done. then you can fantasize about quitting, and how you'll tell your committee. but first: WRITE.

I've been working for, like, 12 hours at this point, and am STILL nowhere near being prepared for tomorrow.

I HATE writing my dissertation. I have NO interest in making it prettier by spring. Can't they just hand me the P., H., and D. now? And then I can go disappear and make donuts for a living somewhere? I think I'd be pretty baller at it. And people might pay me for my hard work, too—fancy that!

I also hate thinking about slavery, and sugar, and the Caribbean, and beaches, and pleasure, and novels, and Britain, and white people, and literature. I probably hate all of those things, independent of thinking about them.

I'm tired. I need a hug. I needed one several hours ago, too. I'm listening to terrible music on Spotify. Mom called tonight to say that Uncle N wrote to say that Aunt J died.

Well, shit.

And also: good for her. Good for her for dying. She admitted that she wasn't going to get better, stopped treatment this summer, and now she's gone. That's brave. I hope she wasn't in too much pain, and that she was surrounded by people she loved, and that she wasn't terrified. I think Uncle N's going through some shit—I assume that's why he wrote and didn't call. (But also because our family is weird.)  He's had to be brave, too.

This is part of why I hate living here. This distance from everyone, the multiplication of phone call on letter.

I want to go home! I DON'T WANT TO LIVE ON THE EAST COAST EVER, EVER, EVER AGAIN IN MY WHOLE LIFE. THIS PLACE IS THE WORST.

SERIOUSLY, WHERE ARE MY FUCKING REJECTION EMAILS?!?!?!?

FLAKY FUCKING FUCKERS.

finished first draft this evening. HURRAY! i'll clean it up a bit, tie together the loose ends, and send it off by the end of the week.

took c to the airport this morning. it was a good visit, and just the perfect length of time. i'll miss her. drove back realizing again how much i wish i was home again. really don't want to live outside california next year. feeling pretty willing to walk away from academia if that's necessary.

came home, went to the store for groceries, made supper, now drinking wine and watching borgen. it feels good to celebrate a little bit.

still so much to do.

oh well.

hey internets, where did my rejection letters go, huh? has my email inbox eaten them?

i've been sitting on the couch for the last four hours. need to stop doing this.

MORE RAGE THAN I KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH, MOST OF IT ABOUT THINGS I CAN'T DO SHIT ABOUT. IS KEEPING ME FROM WORKING. NEED TO LIVE IN A PLACE THAT DOESN'T LEAVE ME SO FREAKING ANGRY.

everyone is totally the worst. the times has an article in which wasps throw around the word "inappropriate" about their neighbors not wearing clothes all the time. which--naked? in their own goddamn apartments? with their neighbors maybe looking out the window occasionally? oh dear, dear, dear. i've never seen an armpit in my life, i haven't, no siree, and armpits are inapPROpriate as all-get-out.

delicious dinner, but left feeling insecure. it's weird feeling judged by a friend i've definitely been/am judgy about, and weird to feel weird about it. note to self: don't make shit like that obvious. it feels bad.

want to cry, again. ALWAYS want to cry past midnight. STILL so much work to do. can't do it/think i can't. will try to do it tomorrow.

also: really really cold today. wanted to sit outside for a while, regretted it immediately.

i don't want to live here every again. i want to live somewhere where i'm nowhere near the weirdest person.

i've been supposed to be working on writing chapter three. instead, after i sent in the materials on thursday, i spent the rest of the day spending too much money on food/alcohol and talking too loudly. then, friday, i slept a lot, didn't get work done in crozet, and spent more money and time on food/alcohol, friends, and ibsen. (which was fun. i hate feeling guilty for having enjoyed myself.) then today i did some reading, and a lot of nothing else.

BAD. need to get done with dissertation. supposed to have it in by tuesday.

but this is a crazy schedule! why the hell am i trying to stick with this schedule? it's insane, it's making me insane, and it's also insane to think that harvard will actually shortlist me—in which case, why the fuck should i be committed to this crazy goal of finishing the book i've been working on for 3 years in the next 3 days?

read some about utilitarianism today. utilitarianism is more interesting than i thought. frances ferguson's book about utilitarianism and porn is interesting.

today, should go to the gym. am planning to bake bread. should do laundry. also: library, for books (the body in pain, and probably something else, too).

too much reading. can't write a good book in 3 days. this is ridiculous.

want someone to cook me food. also want a hug. also want need to talk to people. isolation is a bitch. i'm not cut out to be alone like this. it's the worst. can't work alone.

also: can't work with other people, either.

what if no one wants to interview me at the mla? can i not write the paper i said i'd give, run away, not go to the whole thing?

the job market is terrible. academia is terrible. if this is the initiation ritual, i don't want to belong to the club. the club is run by sadists.

i want to live in portland and make donuts for a living. i think i'd be good at it. also, i might never have to shave again. that could be good.

i should go to bed. will i be able to sleep? i ran out of clean pajamas, wore a t-shirt and underwear last night. it worked, but makes me feel shabby to have to improvise sleep clothing. i need to be more together.  clarissa is coming on thursday, which means i have wednesday to get my shit straightened out.

also, want to pick a lot of fights. no one knows how wrong they are all the time! wanted to tell them at whole foods today. had weird interactions with everybody. the whole women's soccer team from wake forest was there for lunch, and so was an old lady who wanted to tell me about the metal plates in her back. i wanted the soccer players to give the old lady a chair, but couldn't figure out how to tell them that. also they were tired, had just come from practicing, still had bags of ice taped to their thighs.

being an athlete looks horrible. but at least not alone. always people--all the time--everywhere.

want to see people. sad. don't like being alone.