Untangling

I'm not looking for advice. I want to write this down mostly so I can start sorting it out and thinking about it. And start my mom worrying? Which is what will happen anyway (don't worry, Mom, I promise it will be ok).

I'm not happy with my program/life. I sort of like my classes and am sort of interested in my thesis (any energy I had for it was expended in the half-dozen frantic all-nighters I had to spend to get it to the point where it is: still unacceptable and a month past deadline) and haven't put the energy into my classes that they deserved and so I've kind of dreaded/sucked at teaching. But I was surviving. I have 2.5 courses (read: seminar papers) left and the thesis of course. My plan was to grin and bear it, get the thing done, etc.

But now I find myself facing another Monday morning entirely unprepared from my week of funeral-planning and in a sort of questionable emotional state. (Not that questionable. I am wearing Halloween colors today. I ran and showered and got myself up to campus. I also have only cried once--which might be all I need?) And suddenly I have the perfect reason (maybe excuse?) to drop out of my life. Who could fault me for taking November and December off to get my act together? Or for using this trauma as impetus for starting a life I want to be living?

I know we all have had this discussion and I'm not naive enough to assume that Somewhere Else a perfect life is waiting for me. I know that my demons live mostly in my brain and not at BYU (mostly). There's this great lyric from a Magnetic Fields song: "You won't be happy with me/but give me one more chance/you won't be happy anyway." Which is how I feel about everything in my life.

But. If I wanted to start over, now might be the time to do it. (And maybe I can do it without dropping out of my life. Though doesn't manual labor sound so appealing right now? Does anyone need a basement refurbished?)

What Wednesday Looks Like

Today I:
passed off my classes to subs (good friends both).
wrote my dad's obituary.
inherited some of my favorite things.
shared candy (and diet coke) with my siblings.

Right now I'm on my way to Southern Utah for good red soil to bury my father in.

I feel exhausted to my heart but very loved.

Details to follow.

New Specs

Thoughts?

Something Beautiful/I want to go to there: Albania

What do you know about Albania?

It is, apparently, pretty safe (the State Department rates it a medium) and totally gorgeous.
Because it's Greece and Italy country--Mediterranean but more mountainous than Greece apparently.

And also awesome: ancient, once war torn, formerly communist (strong ties to China actually).Yes. I don't know much either. But, Albania, I've got my eye on you.

PS

Remember how terrible that story is? I want to poke myself in the eye just thinking about it.

harummph

I'm not saying I'm not going to get better at this, but I am realizing how very poorly suited I am for a thesis program.
To wit, a short list of personal weaknesses:
1. I don't work well under pressure: I'm no good at deadlines (self-imposed, externally imposed to an equal degree), I'm no good at working under close supervision, I feel paralyzed by expectations, particularly if they're held by authority figures.
2. I don't work well with authority figures: I'm no good at standing up to them. I'm not good at knowing how/when to back down. I get tense and tongue-tied and you know that scene in Washington Square? When Jennifer Jason Leigh wets herself while playing the violin for her dad? I feel like that a lot.
3. I have the attention span of a gnat. Which is why (I'd like to think) I'm not working on revisions but blogging about revisions.

Becca, who I ran into as I was, teary-eyed, leaving the 4th floor to work on revisions, as she was leaving her thesis defense (which she passed! Congrats Becca!) pointed out that no one is good at thesis writing. That no one who is doing a thesis is good at the kinds of things thesis-writing requires (if we were good at these things we'd be out making livings somewhere). And this was a kind of relief. And not because it means I can't justify myself in throwing up my hands and giving up forever. Moving to Mexico/Boston/Buenos Aires.

Ok. To work to work. :)

Drag

Sometimes old mistakes rear ugly heads. And for all your attempted hope and forgiveness and gentleness toward yourself it seems like you'll never change. And you try to remind yourself of humility and of patience but just for a minute everything seems very very dead-ending.

(Maybe I'll hike this afternoon? At any rate.)