Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Dreaded Notebook Done until Next Year
Yes, that is why I have not posted before now today, because I've been scrambling to get all of the fucking evidence of everything I've ever fucking done into fucking plastic sleeves and into a fucking notebook by the 4:30 deadline. Whew! Writing fucking that many times in a row made me feel much, much better.
Here's the bizarre thing about the Dreaded Notebook (DN): I hate doing it, and I hate writing all of the crap using the ass-kissing lingo that makes them like the DN, and I hate having to keep every fucking slip of paper and email that might potentially prove my worth as a professor. But. Now that it's done, I sort of like having done it. I've accomplished a shitload of stuff in the past year. It's nice to have evidence of that. So much of graduate school I spent a lot of time beating myself up about not accomplishing anything, sometimes rightly but most of the time I was being an irrational freak. I still have a tendency to do that, but the DN reveals that tendency to have little foundation in reality. So yes. Now I wait for the strange stream of letters from various levels of the bureaucracy at RCU, each one revealing that I've made it to the next level. (I think maybe they do this in order to try to make you feel better than you would feel if you heard nothing, but I find it all very creepy.)
In other news, the headcold seems to be improving today, although I've got a bit of a cough (which I guess means that it's no longer a headcold but has become a chestcold.... whatever). I've also been listening to PJ Harvey's album Rid of Me constantly - awesome record. And the man-kitty seems to think it's ok, too, although he'd rather listen to Van Morrison's Astral Weeks (one of the most awesome records ever) at night-time.
Ok, I will end this babbly post. Suffice it to say that I'm tired, hungry, and in need of both a nap and food in case I hear from Freud tonight. Not sure that I will want to hang with him, but I don't like to do anything on Thurs. nights because I teach on Friday, and I'm having friend-who-told-me-about-Dr.-E's-new-"official"-relationship (Ok, I'll call her.... Dr. G, for gossip, even though she's not a gossip in a bad way - it's just that I always gossip with her) over on Friday for dinner and information-sharing. I'm telling her every fucking thing I know about Dr. E, including about our little... affair... of the early summer. I'd avoided doing so because I didn't want to be disrespectful of him, but I would much rather that information be disseminated by me than have it come out later via the New Girl. Of course, he may not have told the New Girl, but then I think it's good for me to disseminate the information so that she might get wind of it if she hasn't. Anyway, that's the dealio there. So, to make a long story even longer, tonight's pretty much the night if I want to see Freud before Saturday. And I do kind of want to see him - he provides a much-needed mental rest from all of the worries of the academic year. And I can advise him about his grad student angst and feel better about my own position in life, which is good. And then, of course, there's the fact that I totally wouldn't mind having sex and he's the only option at the moment that wouldn't require a ton of effort on my part. Except, of course, for the fact that he does require effort because of the whole sex-bad/abstinence-good dichotomy that he likes to bust out on me. (By the way, I've had other guys bust that out on me as well - why must they characterize me as a raging nympho with bad morals for wanting sex? Assholes.)
Ok, really ending this post now. I hope to be more articulate tomorrow.
Here's the bizarre thing about the Dreaded Notebook (DN): I hate doing it, and I hate writing all of the crap using the ass-kissing lingo that makes them like the DN, and I hate having to keep every fucking slip of paper and email that might potentially prove my worth as a professor. But. Now that it's done, I sort of like having done it. I've accomplished a shitload of stuff in the past year. It's nice to have evidence of that. So much of graduate school I spent a lot of time beating myself up about not accomplishing anything, sometimes rightly but most of the time I was being an irrational freak. I still have a tendency to do that, but the DN reveals that tendency to have little foundation in reality. So yes. Now I wait for the strange stream of letters from various levels of the bureaucracy at RCU, each one revealing that I've made it to the next level. (I think maybe they do this in order to try to make you feel better than you would feel if you heard nothing, but I find it all very creepy.)
In other news, the headcold seems to be improving today, although I've got a bit of a cough (which I guess means that it's no longer a headcold but has become a chestcold.... whatever). I've also been listening to PJ Harvey's album Rid of Me constantly - awesome record. And the man-kitty seems to think it's ok, too, although he'd rather listen to Van Morrison's Astral Weeks (one of the most awesome records ever) at night-time.
Ok, I will end this babbly post. Suffice it to say that I'm tired, hungry, and in need of both a nap and food in case I hear from Freud tonight. Not sure that I will want to hang with him, but I don't like to do anything on Thurs. nights because I teach on Friday, and I'm having friend-who-told-me-about-Dr.-E's-new-"official"-relationship (Ok, I'll call her.... Dr. G, for gossip, even though she's not a gossip in a bad way - it's just that I always gossip with her) over on Friday for dinner and information-sharing. I'm telling her every fucking thing I know about Dr. E, including about our little... affair... of the early summer. I'd avoided doing so because I didn't want to be disrespectful of him, but I would much rather that information be disseminated by me than have it come out later via the New Girl. Of course, he may not have told the New Girl, but then I think it's good for me to disseminate the information so that she might get wind of it if she hasn't. Anyway, that's the dealio there. So, to make a long story even longer, tonight's pretty much the night if I want to see Freud before Saturday. And I do kind of want to see him - he provides a much-needed mental rest from all of the worries of the academic year. And I can advise him about his grad student angst and feel better about my own position in life, which is good. And then, of course, there's the fact that I totally wouldn't mind having sex and he's the only option at the moment that wouldn't require a ton of effort on my part. Except, of course, for the fact that he does require effort because of the whole sex-bad/abstinence-good dichotomy that he likes to bust out on me. (By the way, I've had other guys bust that out on me as well - why must they characterize me as a raging nympho with bad morals for wanting sex? Assholes.)
Ok, really ending this post now. I hope to be more articulate tomorrow.
