How can I do so much and still feel so unaccomplished? Academia’s a hideous vise. This morning, I:
woke up at 8am
worked on syllabus over coffee–also got my BB site up and running, though I’m still missing links to a dozen readings, but I can get those up there next week
reread chunks of McGurl and annotated
reread chunks of Durkheim and Alavarez–will finish writeup tomorrow
postponed Ulysses reading group meetup until I can get all four of us reading it in the same place at the same time
emailed revised exam list to professor
emailed director of committee to say that 1) I’ll cover her class and 2) I need her signature on my prelim hours
paid my university bill (insult to injury, with our meagre salary–$800 in fees a semester is cruel)
And I’m about to go for a run, and then friends are coming over for pizza and beer, and then I’ll probably go out dancing, since I got my syllabus in good enough shape for Monday. But I still haven’t revised my Clarion stories, in part because I already hate them (sigh, brain. sigh). Also, this is a bad week to do anything creative, because I will tailspin it all to hell. But I do hate how I can do so much (it is 3:30, dude. Not even that late yet) and still feel like an abject failure.
Oh well. Is probably moodiness moreso than actual fail. And I still have tomorrow to get my mind in gear. Monday is going to be brutalpocalyptic, though–up at 7am, home at 10pm. Owowowow.