Monday, November 29, 2004
On a scale of 1-10...
- How much I wanted to cancel my classes today in order to stay in the warm bed with the man-kitty: 8
- How boring my classes this morning were because of a) the material, b) my lack of enthusiasm, c) my students' lack of enthusiasm, and d) my lack of preparation: 10
- How much academic work I accomplished this weekend: 4
- How much cooking I accomplished since Thanksgiving Eve: 8
- How clean my kitchen is after said cooking extravaganza: 1
- How much I care that my kitchen is dirty: 6
So, I do owe everybody a real post since it's been a week since I've written, but I don't really have a lot to report.
Thanksgiving with the parents (mom and pseudo-step-dad with whom she has lived for like 17 years but whom she never married) was awesome, I've been cooking like a fiend, and I got my conference paper that I've been procrastinating about basically done (though it will need some tweaking before I head off to present it next month). I'm just about ready to give my brown-bag talk tomorrow (which had to be rescheduled from its original date because I'm such a disorganized idiot) and other than the mountain of grading that I'm willfully avoiding... all things work-wise seem good.
I'm beginning to get antsy about the job search stuff. I only sent out six applications, so I should not be hopeful, but I am basically an optimistic person in spite of myself, and so until I get a rejection or two I think I can't stop myself from holding onto the fantasy that they all are dying to interview me. This is ridiculous, as it will only mean disappointment and depression when (realistically) this does not happen.
In Stupid Freud news, there's not much. He called me at 1:30 AM Friday (though I was dead asleep and did not hear the phone ring so didn't know this until I saw the caller ID flashing the following morning). This was odd, because he had told me he was returning from the family thanksgiving vacay on Saturday. I called him Saturday, and then I got no phone call from him. I was convinced that he had in fact arrived home on Friday and was on a date with Date Girl on Saturday and that he did not love me. I was being an idiot, as it turns out he had called me from the vacay Friday night (though he didn't mention that he had done so and I didn't mention it either) and did not return home until like 2 AM Saturday night/Sunday morning. So. He called me last night and we talked for like an hour. He asked me what I was doing - I think because he wanted to see me - but I was in for the night. I then said that we should hang out this week and he replied, "yeah, we should get coffee" as he laughed at me, and then I said, "I didn't mean it like that!" and he said "I know, I was just giving you shit," and then I said, "you're mean to me," and then he said he'd call me this week and we got off the phone. So yeah. Who the fuck knows. But I was really happy to talk to him, so that's good. Really would like to see him tonight but that is irresponsible given the amount of work I should do, which includes reading a novel I've never read before that is nevertheless on my syllabus.
(It occurs to me that it is not necessarily a good thing that I get all boy-crazy about Freud whenever a. he ignores me b. he is out of town c. we have decided that we are going to be "just friends." I think that I'm kind of a freak. Not a big freak, but kind of one nevertheless.)