wait. nevermind. i never wanted to talk to you in the first place, you weirdo.
urgh.
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Monday, March 17, 2014
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
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?
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?
Friday, February 7, 2014
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
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.
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.
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Monday, January 20, 2014
so much regret. SO MUCH!
i need out of here. last night's dinner was expensive, but i like all those people and it felt good to hang out with them again. they're tired of me, though, tired of listening to me bitch about this town, about my advisor, about our program, about our field, about our university. at one point, l described me as being "both so great in some circumstances, and so not great sometimes also" as though it were the verbal equivalent of a slap in the face: that i should stop talking about how things are fucked up, stop pushing boundaries in any way, and just learn how to take everything bad with a smile it like a proper southern lady.
but fuck that. fuck women who project their own repressed standards onto others.
no one would dance, either—not at z, or at r. i want chaos and laughter and tricksters dancing on tables, and instead i get l suggesting that if only i didn't ask assertive questions in professional settings, i might be an ok person, above scrutiny.
it's a sign that you live in a very repressed place that asking assertive questions is all it takes to win you the label of troublemaker.
w seems to regret his career choices, too. we talked about that and how one of his professors sent in a letter a week late thus keeping him out of the running for a fancy clerkship, and then later i interviewed everyone about their interest in having children.
school is fucked up. all systems of hierarchical inequality are fucked up. is there a way of setting up incentivized rewards that wouldn't fuck everyone up? got j's comments on my job materials today—very long, very detailed, probably very helpful, but i don't know if i have the heart to tackle any of that again. do i want this? probably not. none of the things i'll be applying to are very good—which will mean that i'll have to go into this process, again, next fall. which sounds terrible. enough of this. i hate this. people keep saying, "yes, but your work is good, don't you care about changing the field? your work could do that," and i want to say, "yes, but i have no interest in changing a field that doesn't want to admit me into its ranks." why should i care about my project if it won't get me a job? i like it as an idea, and i like the kinds of research it's allowed me to do, and the kinds of conversations it's permitted me to have, but i have absolutely no commitment to it outside of what it can allow me to do. this isn't just me being ambivalent about the field i've been training for—it's also about me being practical about the potential results of future effort.
why should i keep working? i don't want to keep working. i want to stop.
i need out of here. last night's dinner was expensive, but i like all those people and it felt good to hang out with them again. they're tired of me, though, tired of listening to me bitch about this town, about my advisor, about our program, about our field, about our university. at one point, l described me as being "both so great in some circumstances, and so not great sometimes also" as though it were the verbal equivalent of a slap in the face: that i should stop talking about how things are fucked up, stop pushing boundaries in any way, and just learn how to take everything bad with a smile it like a proper southern lady.
but fuck that. fuck women who project their own repressed standards onto others.
no one would dance, either—not at z, or at r. i want chaos and laughter and tricksters dancing on tables, and instead i get l suggesting that if only i didn't ask assertive questions in professional settings, i might be an ok person, above scrutiny.
it's a sign that you live in a very repressed place that asking assertive questions is all it takes to win you the label of troublemaker.
w seems to regret his career choices, too. we talked about that and how one of his professors sent in a letter a week late thus keeping him out of the running for a fancy clerkship, and then later i interviewed everyone about their interest in having children.
school is fucked up. all systems of hierarchical inequality are fucked up. is there a way of setting up incentivized rewards that wouldn't fuck everyone up? got j's comments on my job materials today—very long, very detailed, probably very helpful, but i don't know if i have the heart to tackle any of that again. do i want this? probably not. none of the things i'll be applying to are very good—which will mean that i'll have to go into this process, again, next fall. which sounds terrible. enough of this. i hate this. people keep saying, "yes, but your work is good, don't you care about changing the field? your work could do that," and i want to say, "yes, but i have no interest in changing a field that doesn't want to admit me into its ranks." why should i care about my project if it won't get me a job? i like it as an idea, and i like the kinds of research it's allowed me to do, and the kinds of conversations it's permitted me to have, but i have absolutely no commitment to it outside of what it can allow me to do. this isn't just me being ambivalent about the field i've been training for—it's also about me being practical about the potential results of future effort.
why should i keep working? i don't want to keep working. i want to stop.
Sunday, January 19, 2014
i don't want to belong to this field. i don't want to be the people who belong to this field. r is a bully, and also seems completely unaware of how shitty that kind of behavior is. or she does know it, and thinks it's totally appropriate to bully me, maybe, because i'm her subordinate (and also because she happens to disagree with me). either way, it's shitty. it's an abuse of power. i wish i could make her as ashamed of her behavior as i am for her, but i don't think it's possible to do that—and it definitely wouldn't be a good use of my time. but oh my fucking god. telling people their ideas are wrong—because naive, because misinformed, because they contradict her ideas and ideology, and then asking (in a pseudo-friendly/jokey/casual way) them to recant them—is not what facebook is for. fuck you, r.
last night's party was depressing. being there with a wasn't much fun—although, really, no one else at the party was much fun either. fuck universities, man. i hate other smart people. we're really awful, and we're all convinced we're so important.
last night's party was depressing. being there with a wasn't much fun—although, really, no one else at the party was much fun either. fuck universities, man. i hate other smart people. we're really awful, and we're all convinced we're so important.
Friday, January 17, 2014
Monday, January 13, 2014
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Friday, January 10, 2014
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
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