Friday, August 28, 2009
32. Clarification
The other day someone asked me if I'm a cheerleader. The answer to this question is no.
Monday, August 10, 2009
31. But meanwhile in Missoula
I have a degree in a field that doesn't offer any particular abundance of job opportunities. I happen to be one of the most unindustrious people I know (I have no gumption) and so I've always hoped that one day I'd be walking down the street and an incredible job would present itself to me without any effort on my part. I am also sometimes one of the luckiest people I know (but sometimes not) and so something like that has kind of happened to me. But I am also one of the most self-defeating people I know and so instead of being happy or even feeling a tiny bit pleased I am only stressed out and worried and scared.
I haven't been able to sleep for a month and I've bitten my fingernails down to China. Sometimes I forget to eat dinner, and sometimes I decide that ice cream makes a good meal. (Well, it does.) I lose things and I forget about things, I stink and I scare people. I wreak stress-related havoc everywhere I go.
And instead of behoovementally dealing with reality and getting organized, I'm distracting myself and spending all my time on Sport (said with a German accent). I don't know why but ever since the training group ended I've been going nonstop. I'm even running up mountains, and I hate mountains, specifically running up them - but for some reason I've decided that it's good for me. I'm tired, my body is tired, even my spine is tired. (Saying your spine is tired sounds way more hardcore than just saying your neck is sore.)
And I feel sorry for myself. Poor me, really. Last week I had to - I was forced to - I was coerced into giving a presentation at an academic conference and I was stressed the fuck out about it all goddamn summer. The presentation went fine or whatever but I have decided to retire from the conference presentation circuit forevermore. Too much stress and I'm too dumb. Poor me! Anyway, after the conference, I really just wanted to go home for the weekend to indulge my self-pitying wahwah. It didn't work out - too many fun things to do in this glorious stinking town - but I'm going home this weekend and I want to get food cooked for me and sleep in and swim a lot. It better be sunny and summery or I'll cry.
I realize this blog has taken an alarming turn away from its original purpose of serving as a guide to Missoula for pleasure-seekers and scientists and is now all about me and only me. I will stop writing about myself after this post, probably. Isn't a fear of success really just a monstrous fear of failure?
I haven't been able to sleep for a month and I've bitten my fingernails down to China. Sometimes I forget to eat dinner, and sometimes I decide that ice cream makes a good meal. (Well, it does.) I lose things and I forget about things, I stink and I scare people. I wreak stress-related havoc everywhere I go.
And instead of behoovementally dealing with reality and getting organized, I'm distracting myself and spending all my time on Sport (said with a German accent). I don't know why but ever since the training group ended I've been going nonstop. I'm even running up mountains, and I hate mountains, specifically running up them - but for some reason I've decided that it's good for me. I'm tired, my body is tired, even my spine is tired. (Saying your spine is tired sounds way more hardcore than just saying your neck is sore.)
And I feel sorry for myself. Poor me, really. Last week I had to - I was forced to - I was coerced into giving a presentation at an academic conference and I was stressed the fuck out about it all goddamn summer. The presentation went fine or whatever but I have decided to retire from the conference presentation circuit forevermore. Too much stress and I'm too dumb. Poor me! Anyway, after the conference, I really just wanted to go home for the weekend to indulge my self-pitying wahwah. It didn't work out - too many fun things to do in this glorious stinking town - but I'm going home this weekend and I want to get food cooked for me and sleep in and swim a lot. It better be sunny and summery or I'll cry.
I realize this blog has taken an alarming turn away from its original purpose of serving as a guide to Missoula for pleasure-seekers and scientists and is now all about me and only me. I will stop writing about myself after this post, probably. Isn't a fear of success really just a monstrous fear of failure?
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