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.