HOLY FUCKING SHIT

Protect. Enslave. In Love.

I know, two in one day makes the whole world blind.

I talked to my mom. And I haven't talked to her in awhile. And she yakked about how someone bought her a piano. That's strange, but then she went on about the movie pay it forward. Which I haven't seen. I mentioned that she would be receiving a red dress that I tried to ship there, and that it was my bridesmaid dress for Ashleigh's wedding. She flipped out, apparently I had not told her Ashleigh was engaged? I am pretty sure that I had. Good thing I gave her a heads up on the dress, I guess. Then she started quizzing me about Scotland Plans. And I told her about This Place, In Edinburgh . How we are trying to crunch the dinero so that we can swing a couple nights in a Tim Burton movie.

Anyway. Didn't think too much about it, she oohed and aahed over the chintzy website photos. I emphasized the motherfucking expensiveness of the place. She literally clucked at me.

I just checked my email. Crazy loon-woman got us a gift certificate to the place that's the amount of one night's stay.

Holy. Shit.

Now I have to pay it forward. Or I die, right? The kid in the movie dies? I've only seen the part where he gets stabbed.

Oh, sorry: RETROACTIVE SPOILER ALERT!!!!!1

Anyway, who needs a good deed done? Hit me up for it Yo.

Now Here's The Moon, It's Alright

This blog has sucked ass lately, wouldn't you say? I don't know what to do about that. Maybe I'll go back to the photos of hot Latino men. I guess JD isn't close enough for some of you?!? He looks kind of foreign if you squint.

I feel very listless today, which sucks because I have so much reading to do I want to die. In general, I'm just kind of Blah lately. I've slept a ridiculous amount since getting back from Palm Springs. On the drive back, I took a tablet of dramamine and it knocked me out, and when we got back to irvine I slept for 12 hours, missing the office and other choice television programming to do so.

Since then, I've been sleeping incredibly deeply and having the most lucid fucking dreams. This morning my wedding and Ashleigh's were on the same day and I was trying to choose among three dresses for the two (bride, bridesmaid) I would need for the day. And there were strappy pink shoes, or these purple shoes I have in real life, and I had to think about dress length, escort height, color scheme and it was exhausting. And there was something else about a competition in which anna nicole smith was one of the contestants. It was all very dramatic.

I've come very close to begging off of some work by telling my advisor I'm having an existential crisis. I'm not sure that would actually work, but I so don't want to do the legwork for anything that it's starting to seem like a more and more attractive option. I do not understand what is wrong with me, or why I am so exhausted all the time. I'm about done with January, I think. It'll be nice to have that awfulness under our belts. Sigh. I will try to amp it up for ya'll next time. Maybe I will find stuff to talk about in the readings I need to do!

My Professionism Is Not As Important As My Humanism

1. I don't get what the big deal about Palm Springs is. At all.

2. Confirrence was good, thanks. Postir went fine. No one stumped me.

3. Hotel was retardedly nice and modern.

4. Now, I have reading to do asap and an outline of something to get to Advisor B.

5. God, am so boring. Will have free time later in the weekend? Who knows. wtf.

Protect, Embrace, Engulf


My head goddamn hurts. Stiff neck, yo. (I look like I might stink, yo)

Let's see. This week is kicking my ass already. Still tonight I have a yoga class, about six hours of work, and iron-pumping to do. I saw match point this weekend. It's pretty good, if you ask me. Which you implicitly did by reading this, so ha! I liked that I wasn't acutely aware that it was a Woody Allen movie the whole damn time I was watching. Wednesday and Thursday I have to be at a confirrence. I do not like confirrences. So, I do not like Wednesday and Thursday. Which sucks, because usually I get to hang out with JD for most of those days, and I won't this week. Waahhh.

Ours are 9 X 9. No big deal.

I made a comp cd the other day, and it is KICKASS. Who wants one? MMMMM?

Back to warhk.

I Don't Sleep! I Don't Sleep! I Don't Sleep Till It's Light!

Oops. I just took on two more big-deal projects. I'm so busy my eyes are bleeding. From now on. What was I thinking? I don't even care or want these things because I don't want to Be Like Them. I am so damned retarded.

Today I have to:

clean. the whole house.
do six hundred projects
schedule three appointments
stop thinking there's time for fun
start studying for comps. Oh yes. Comps, in SEPTEMBER.


FUUUUUUCK FUCK FUCK

Sycamore State

Two nights ago I had a dream in which Jenny and I were both interviewing for academic jobs at good ol' U of E. In the dream I was acutely aware that I was only a third year and not ready for the job market. We were being interviewed at the same time by Ed and Beverly Laci (sic), and instead of the standard talk-interviews type thing, they sat us both down at a table and fired questions like, "in 1778, which of the two founding fathers spent a great deal of time in France?" To which I answered Franklin and Madison, or something, but that was wrong. And then they got mean. And they clearly liked Jenny much better than me, and it was not going so well, and Bev just got more and more stern with me. And toward the end i could sense she was going to tell me I didn't get the job and then she came over and said something to the effect of, "well, you're just not very good, and it wouldn't be right to let you leave without telling you that."

Then in the same dream JD and I were driving across a strait of water on a weird bridge that had all these hairpin turns that took it down to the level of the ocean and then back up to normal bridge level. And I was driving and trying to keep the car on the road, but I think the whole thing was made of glass, and and one corner we slid off into the water, and I immediately panicked because we were in a car sinking in the ocean, and JD got out and swam to a buey nearby and tried to attach a tow line to the car but the car had already been pulled super far away from the bridge by the stupid current and it was very like almost drowning in a riptide in Florida.

This morning I had a dream that I was going to some bullshit university in New York state to give a job talk and stuff. And I was acutely aware, again, that I was a third year and had no business being out on the market. But I had to do it anyway. I was very nervous because I had no publications or research to present, and wouldn't be able to answer anyone's questions.

So what's up with these dreams? why am I preoccupied with academic job hunting? It's weird. It's probably because everyone in my lab is on the job market. I am like the kid sister who doesn't know anything about anything.

Le sigh.

How Bloaty?

So bloaty that I just whined my fiance out the door to get me trashy magazines. There's no chocolate left in the house. My pants stopped fitting late this afternoon. My cat bit me and I almost hurled him across the room, and then I almost cried because I almost did that. At least I don't have to go be on no stupid ass red carpet with hugely gigantic Geena Davis.

I am going to whine, not on purpose, but because it is inevitable, once JD gets back, about how fat I am, how ugly I am, how no one loves me, how I hate all my clothes, how I wish I hadn't eaten all the chocolate in the house, how my skin is dry because of our stupid dry weather and it's making it flaky, how I look like a monkey, how my fingers are stumpy, and then more about how fat and ugly I am, and I will do it all in this really really annoying voice all while he tries to distract me from being moody by being super unnecessarily nice to me. But I will still, at some point tonight, scream like a child and throw something. At least, it's a safe bet.

I should have seen this coming earlier when i nagged him within an inch of his life about how this stupid dickies jacket he wears all the time is way too fucking big for him and it looks ridiculous. I couldn't stop, and that is one of the first warning signs.

JEEZE. WHERE IS MY G.D. TEEN VOGUE

It's Not Your Fault It's How The Air Works

I got hit on by a celebrity.

I also got some weird compliment from someone I went to high school with who I can't place for the life of me.

I've planned a lot this weekend. I think I have never more seriously considered paying so much for a hotel room in my life.
I will probably end up decorating my entire house in this fashion someday. There are several thousand adorable B&B places in the areas of Scotland we are going to visit. So that doesn't narrow anything down. If only I could find more places outfitted in all the creepy comforts of this photo. We are goddamn staying there. If I have to trick to pay for it.

I am a big procrastinaty dork again.

I don't have class tomorrow, yay holiday.

There will be actual invitations at some point, but for those of you who need to ask off way in advance, we are having our little faux-reception party on March 25th. If you're reading this you'll be invited. And I expect, nay, demand that you attend if it is within the scope of your abilities to do so.

I feel so happy and glamourous when I go have lunch with JD. I do enjoy the flexibility provided by an academic calendar, especially when I only have one class.

Still haven't made/started on that poster thing I have to do in a week. Shit.

Oh oh. One of my advisors has been offered an insane job elsewhere. Raedy, please think of the best possible place for a devlopment person to work. Now imagine them offering an asst prof automatic tenure and this prof's husband a chance to retire and become a fly-fisherman. I can scarcely imagine how she will decide NOT to leave. However, she is hemming about like she hasn't decided shit. Yeah. Right. So, that blows. It blows harder for her students who do not have other advisors. Yeech!

Dude, I don't want to do this stupid poster. I have also staved off some paperwork for such a losery time now that I have to pay late registration fees on top of what it costs to take yoga and also, boo.

Also, fuck you Indianapolis.

You Cooked Your Foot

JD got a suit last night. That's right, a wedding suit. It was a very very good deal and he cuts a rather dashing figure in it. Of course, he had no idea how the jacket was supposed to fit, so I had to talk him out of one that was four sizes too big, but it ended well. It's gray with tan and ochre pinstripes, so I'm going to send him to the mall with his gay friends to figure out what goes under that, as I couldn't find anything in the whole store that looked right.

That prompted me to shift into hyper-wedding planning mode, so I tried to make other important decisions last night too. Like whether our honeymoon should consist of traipsing all over the continent of Europe or spending a good chunk of time in Scotland. I am going back and forth and back. And forth. I think right now I'm leaning toward staying in Scotland. Oh who knows.

Oh! Oh! Oh!

I hate Star Jonez.

The thing is, this is a very expensive year aside from this wedding. We have to go to Evansville twice and possibly Hawaii, so we are trying not to totally blow up our "budget."

God, I feel like such a princess complaining about this kind of thing. Waaaaah, we might not be able to go to Rome if we have to go to Hawaii later in the year.

I know, it's despicable.

I'm also trying to figure out details for this Party we're throwing ourselves in Evansville at the end of March. Does anyone have suggestions for where to have it? I want to drink and maybe order pizza or something and have cake. And be as loud and obnoxious as we want. My mom's apartment is out, because I'm not inviting her. PLEASE ADVISE.

Just Enough So That I'll Need Medical Attention

Last night I got into bed and laid, princessly, waiting for JD to come and make the bed over me because the cat loves it when he does this. JD was in the kitchen, in his boxers, rinsing off some of the dishes, and when he came back into the bedroom he was doubled over, clutching his crotch, and making a very sour face. "Are you ok?" I ask, in my syrup voice, because for some reason I ask him this every time he seems confused, or bored, or annoyed, or otherwise distracted from staring at my radiance. The answer surprises me, because I expect that he will say, "yeah, i'm fine," no matter how badly injured he really is. He could be missing a limb and both eyeballs and still say he's fine. Instead, he says, "Noooo," and bow-legs gingerly over to me. He explains that as he was standing at the sink, he reached across the counter for the coffee decanter and bumped the open top drawer. And it slid shut on his wanger. So he has a gen-u-wine penis injury. At first I think he is being a total baby, until he shows me in the light how the drawer pinched it so hard that it bled and is sensitive to movement, touch, or being looked at too hard.

He lays down, whimpering, and nearly cries himself to sleep.

Today he shows it to me, and half his Thing is black and purple. Poor, poor boy. I can't even imagine.

If Your Lungs And Stomach Start Talking, Stand With Your Arms Akimbo Until They Stop

*This blog has lost a little bit of that Doe-eyed Charm that it used to have. Wouldn't you agree? Grad school has made me boring, cynical, and crazy. I was stressed out in college too, but it was a hell of a lot more fun than it is now. I'm adding to my resolutions: Stop Being So Dead Inside.

That should be a piece of cake, right?

*So I've been superprocrastinating on a few choice things since I got home from boston. So much so that I thought it might be worth sitting down with my bad self and trying to figure out what The Problem might be. I spent about five hours yesterday researching nontraditional phd jobs, and I feel so much better. Not to offend those of you who are pursuing more traditional careers in academe, but I just don't see what's so great about tenure. Especially with all the rumblings about schools shifting toward rolling tenure, or periodic review, etc. Plus, there are not a lot of people who have come from my program who have landed cushy academic jobs. Based on the quality of the people that we've hired, compared to the quality of our average graduating student, there is no chance that I'll be competitive when I leave here. That's not a pity party, it was one of those, "he's just not that into you"-type revelations that leaves me feeling supremely comforted instead of nervous.

Ultimately, I realized that I don't give a shit. I don't have my heart set on becoming my advisor. I would be really happy doing something with less "intellectual freedom" and a shitload more money and free time. One of my advisors is up for tenure this year. And her life is nothing i would ever want for myself. It works for her, but I'm not the right personality type for what she's doing. Her home life appears to be in shambles. She's crazy, flighty, always sick, works 18 hour days probably every day, has a toddler who never sees her, has sat on some of our projects for six months, etc. I don't want that for myself, and since that seems to be de rigeur (right, sis?) for this career, I'm thinking it's not for me.

I would rather make a decent amount of money (despite my mother's outdated assumptions, academia is not the glamorous, jet-setting profession that my father made it--such are the differences between the life of a concert pianist and a researcher, le sigh) and have enough time to enjoy my life outside of work. And now I know there are options, and I no longer feel anxious about this quarter starting (I have a class next Monday and I have to go pick up readings for it today, huff huff) or being continually evaluated or not being published or anything else. It's nice. Some huge weight has been lifted. I'm looking forward to learning for learning's sake and for the first time in a long time I feel motivated to actually THINK. It's too depressing to think that for the rest of my life, I just get more and more narrow in what I do, who I am. Every day I question whether I'm interested enough in what I'm doing. And I love the research, but I'm not totally sold on the topic. But I can't think of anything else to do instead. I would rather have breadth than depth. Because I feel like the depth would come whether I wanted it to or not.

Urgh. Yeah, so. Anybody want to go into business with me in a few years?

Hold It Down, Baby

So it turns out I cannot restrain myself from tidying up other people's messes even if I have sworn to myself I will not, in fact, tidy their messes. I had a burst of extra energy last night and, in no more than four minutes, had Jessica's sink/counter area looking almost presentable. She's coming back tonight. I am savoring the last few hours of pure, pristine relaxation. So I'm a meddling bitch. It's my damn house. I'm sorry if I ever lived with you, and continually organized your things against your wishes. It's a tic.
This is the face I made whilst I straightened Jessica's area. It's not a nice face. For those of you keeping track of the toilet paper saga, I had to buy more last night. Which means the pack I bought in November, that claimed to equivle 45 rolls of "normal" toilet paper, only lasted 5 weeks. Yeah. It burns.

I can't get my damned work done. I just can't bring myself to sit and crank it out. I can't get started. I'm relishing this time alone in the apartment. I'm relishing my last unaccounted-for break from school until next year this time. Holy god. I'm driving myself nuts but I do not want to get started. I'm trying to break a bunch of bad habits too so I'm extra nervous and fidgety, I guess. Oh and I keep drinking coffee.

I guess I should make some lists. Oh, boo, there's just so much to DOOOOOOOOO. And I don't want to do any of it. But, I THINK that there's a new GG on tonight. There better be.

God, I'm so boring. So so so so so so boring. But that'll never stop me from blogging.

Oh My God A Rubber (Rubber...Rubber)

1. Resolutions? Learn time management skills. For real this time. No more procrastinating. Like I'm doing right now.

2.News?

Boston was awesome. We did so much fun shit. I'll hold off on it until I see if Jenny ever bothers to update again. You already have a movie of boys dancing in underwear. I don't know what else I can tell you people. It was fun. Too short, fun, I love public transportation, I love Mike and Jenny, I love Boston.

My friend Kristin called me last night to say that she and Eric got engaged last week. Yay for her (she has been campaigning for this for awhile now), but I am so over being engaged. It is not unique anymore. I am considering eloping. Unfortunately, JD is not considering it. At this point, I'm just like: Hey, Fuck It. I don't care about a wedding. I don't really want to hang out with my mom for a week, or anyone else's mom. and other stuff. But just, ahh, fuck it. No one elopes anymore. It's quaint. I kind of like the idea. Would anyone come to Vegas? That's not really eloping, though, is it? If I invite you guys and half expect you to show up there? Yeah. I just don't have the necessary moxie for wedding planning these days.

Oh that reminds me, I tried on Sis's glasses whilst in Beantown and I could see better with them on than off. Which blows. I've always gloated about my fantastic vision, but grad school has finally wrenched it from me. Stupid articles in fuzzy tiny print stupid self reading them in bad light and also stupid looking at the sun when I was little all combine to make my eyes fail. Stupid. So I may need to set up an appointment with the optometrist. Also the dentist. Also the gynechiatrist.

I have a conference later this month. I'm presenting a poster. Woot. Lame.

I'm just bored. I'm frittering away the last few hours of my break and it's raining here--badd.

3. zzzzzzzzzz.