stress

Long time, no audience, a blog that resembles my intermittent friendship. We start late here at West Coast U, so classes haven't quite begun. And I'm in that space today, panic mixed with intense resolve, a sense of failure rubbing up against hardened ambition, FUD (fear, uncertainty, and doubt) tempered by The Knowledge of What Has To Be Done. Contradictory day, then, spurred by waking up sober for the first time in far too long. Dying for a cigarette, dying to see my office (beloved, cherished, shiny, new, undecorated for a while yet) become a place where I accomplish staggering and startling amounts of work, yet watching myself write this instead. Going gray, again, at the temples. 2 hours to fill, on a subject within my field, though not formally within my expertise. If I managed to teach high school kids at a posh private high school literature waaaaay out of my field, why can't I manage this? Expectations invisible, unknown, yet transparently obvious: the mirror and the rope, as it were. Graduate students who want hand holding - I didn't get any, why should they? Not so much in a hazing sense as knowing their work, and their ability to judge their own work, will be better for it. Also known as fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. To work...