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.