Archive for June, 2009

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Apart from, you know, not actually getting the job.

June 22, 2009

The worst thing about applying for positions–permanent, temporary, full time, part time, attractive, repellent–is that in doing one’s damnedest to convince the search committee that one is right for the job, one has a way of convincing oneself, which makes the (almost guaranteed) rejection far more of a blow than it would have been otherwise.  Being hoisted by one’s own petard, so to speak.

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Guess who’s goin’ to that conference in Puerto Rico?

June 16, 2009

NOT ME!

re.

jected.

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New Developments!

June 8, 2009

Physical manifestations of my stress and/or self-loathing:

Perpetually clenched fists

Bruxism both sleeping and waking

Relentless headaches (no doubt bruxism-related)

Inadvertently holding my breath.

That’s right, kiddos, I’m forgetting to breathe.

And did I tell ya that the part-time job I was offered fell through because it was grant-dependent, and said grant was denied?  The hits just keep on rollin’.

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Just when you think it’s safe to go back in the water…

June 4, 2009

You find out that you’re swimming with the same mental sharks. 

I didn’t write anything last week, because I didn’t know how to type the equivalent of vomiting blood (which is especially bad when you’re swimming with sharks).  This week wasn’t any better.

I’ve been doing this therapy thing for 4 months, and here’s what has come out–repeatedly:

I am never satisfied by what I write.  I only occasionally enjoy the writing process. No matter what I do, I don’t think I will ever get a job.  No matter what I achieve, I always feel underqualified.  I am deeply ashamed to be so old and so unaccomplished.  I was a fool to think that academia is a meritocracy.  I was a fool to think that I could have a really boring but basically satisfying middle-class life.

If I enjoyed the process enough

If I were able to survive financially

If I thought what I did mattered

But I don’t, and I can’t, and it doesn’t.

As soon as I figure out how to, I’m quitting therapy.  It’s only been further evidence that I’m a fucking sucker.