it's andrew eating an orange. taking this picture feels like the most worthwhile thing i've done in awhile. i don't know why, it just pleases me.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
also this
it's andrew eating an orange. taking this picture feels like the most worthwhile thing i've done in awhile. i don't know why, it just pleases me.
come save me from Vermont.
I am in a rut. This rut involves making terrible nutritional decisions (too many sticky buns) and never going running and never cleaning my house. It also involves having given up trying to meet new people and instead spending all of my free time eating lychee gummy candy and watching TV on the internet even though I've decided that lychee flavored things taste like cleaning products and TV on the internet is boring. And I keep meaning to post actual thoughts here, but I've ceased to have actual thoughts because my brain has been taken over by thoughts about the people on Grey's Anatomy, which is such an embarrassing thing to admit to, but there it is.
For awhile now, my job has been making me crazy. I think this funk, this sortof shutdown, is a means of dealing with this. I like the actual work I'm doing, but I don't like the work environment. I only work with two people, and they're married to each other, and they shouldn't be. They're totally mismatched. They met a few years ago on the internet and only spent two weeks actually physically in each other's presence before getting engaged. Laura is always saying things about Ben like "He said he was all about fun, but he's not all about fun. I was misled!" They complain about each other all the time. The only time they get along is when they're ganging up on me, which feels often. Arg! Now I'm getting frustrated just writing this.
I want out of Vermont. It's cold here, and I'm the type of person who is always cold even if it is actually warm out and I miss you guys and my parents and civilization... I'm so lonely here! I can't seem to make friends. But Andrew likes his job and wants to stay here for another year. I love Andrew and don't think I could be happy leaving him and I want to be able to do this for him, to stay put and be patient. He seems very happy here, and he's making lots of friends through work. I don't know what to do and I know that this whole post has the feel of a crazy rant so I'm just going to end it.
I'm so so happy I'm going to be seeing both of you soon.
Love and see you on Saturday,
Susan.
For awhile now, my job has been making me crazy. I think this funk, this sortof shutdown, is a means of dealing with this. I like the actual work I'm doing, but I don't like the work environment. I only work with two people, and they're married to each other, and they shouldn't be. They're totally mismatched. They met a few years ago on the internet and only spent two weeks actually physically in each other's presence before getting engaged. Laura is always saying things about Ben like "He said he was all about fun, but he's not all about fun. I was misled!" They complain about each other all the time. The only time they get along is when they're ganging up on me, which feels often. Arg! Now I'm getting frustrated just writing this.
I want out of Vermont. It's cold here, and I'm the type of person who is always cold even if it is actually warm out and I miss you guys and my parents and civilization... I'm so lonely here! I can't seem to make friends. But Andrew likes his job and wants to stay here for another year. I love Andrew and don't think I could be happy leaving him and I want to be able to do this for him, to stay put and be patient. He seems very happy here, and he's making lots of friends through work. I don't know what to do and I know that this whole post has the feel of a crazy rant so I'm just going to end it.
I'm so so happy I'm going to be seeing both of you soon.
Love and see you on Saturday,
Susan.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Faulks this. Fox this. And Fowlks this again.
God, sometimes writing is like laying pipe. Samuel Beckett referred to his poems as “turds.” That’s exactly how I feel right now. Write now.
I have to compose this 500 or so word statement of purpose for my application to the Masters program at Columbia and I’ve never had to write anything worse. It’s supposed to lay out my past work and preparation, my academic plans of study, and my future career objectives. I’ll be damned if I know! I just want to read books again and get a degree for it, do I need to know anything beyond that?
I’ve completely psyched myself out. I haphazardly applied to a couple of PhD programs, completely sure I wouldn’t get in and uncertain that if I did I would even want to go. I needn’t have worried, but after I applied I realized what a craptastic job I had done on all the applications. I had never even Googled “statement of purpose” once and I’d certainly never read a book or anything about how to do it; I had no idea what I was doing. I’d never done such a half-assed job on anything in my life.
So now I am actually taking this last chance application seriously. It’s due in a week. I’ve done way too much Googling at this point and I have to sell myself as the greatest thing since Marcel Proust. And I’m probably putting all my eggs in this basket just to be disappointed. I don’t really know why I want to get in. I just want to have made a decision of some kind about even the short-term future.
Beckett puts it best: I’m “more than ever frightened by the prospect of effort, initiative & even the little self-assertion of getting about from one place to another.”
This is a very cantankerous entry, so I’m going to end it. Somehow just the thought that I am communicating with you two renews me a bit.
Love,
G.
I have to compose this 500 or so word statement of purpose for my application to the Masters program at Columbia and I’ve never had to write anything worse. It’s supposed to lay out my past work and preparation, my academic plans of study, and my future career objectives. I’ll be damned if I know! I just want to read books again and get a degree for it, do I need to know anything beyond that?
I’ve completely psyched myself out. I haphazardly applied to a couple of PhD programs, completely sure I wouldn’t get in and uncertain that if I did I would even want to go. I needn’t have worried, but after I applied I realized what a craptastic job I had done on all the applications. I had never even Googled “statement of purpose” once and I’d certainly never read a book or anything about how to do it; I had no idea what I was doing. I’d never done such a half-assed job on anything in my life.
So now I am actually taking this last chance application seriously. It’s due in a week. I’ve done way too much Googling at this point and I have to sell myself as the greatest thing since Marcel Proust. And I’m probably putting all my eggs in this basket just to be disappointed. I don’t really know why I want to get in. I just want to have made a decision of some kind about even the short-term future.
Beckett puts it best: I’m “more than ever frightened by the prospect of effort, initiative & even the little self-assertion of getting about from one place to another.”
This is a very cantankerous entry, so I’m going to end it. Somehow just the thought that I am communicating with you two renews me a bit.
Love,
G.
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