Tuesday, May 08, 2018

Work Life/Writer Life

I don't even know how to express my joy that the snow is gone.  I don't even care that there was barely even in-between weather even though in-between weather is my very favorite kind.  (It is super hot and sticky and we have the air on already.  Boo).

I have been able to take walks again at work and spend hme reading and writing in pretty places.
The Terrace chairs are even back!  Finally!
I had to stay late the other week for my semesterly speech contest, and I went majorly old school with the snack: Oreos and milk.  And juice, since the person who requested Oreos is vegan.
I love this:
Also!  I love Joanna Gaines' cookie recipe-- it's as perfect as she is.
Seriously. Those cookies were so good I broke out Humpty.
In case you wondered what Beatrix has been up to lately, this is it:
Dorothy packed full luggage for a playdate last week.  Ha!
I am having a really hard time writing.  Bah.  I want to write a book.  It's almost there, and it's taken HOURS of my time and I even have an outline for the next one.  BUT IT'S NOT COMING.  GAH.  So, work life is good.  Writing life is...less good.

But!  I started doing yoga everyday, and that's been even better than good.  Who knew?

I am really depressed about my upcoming birthday, you guys.  I feel like I used to be an exceptional person with so much potential and I didn't use it.  I just sort of settled here, a middle-aged mom.

In some ways I blame grad school, a demoralizing process that convinced me I was never as smart as I thought I was.  I had a student come by my office to work on her student commencement address, and I realized that I had my own speech from a million years ago to show her.  I read it over again before I sent it to her, and you know something?  IT WAS REALLY GOOD.  At the time, though, I convinced myself that I only got picked to deliver the speech on a fluke (um, actually?  there were several rounds of try-outs).  A professor in my department went out of his way to tell me it was a good speech on graduation night, and I have a really vivid memory of his compliment embarrassing me because I was sure he only said something because he felt bad for me.  I mean WHAT THE HECK?

I have not written a single academic word since I defended my dissertation 9 years ago.  And all I have been writing lately are super sad poems about miscarriage and the stifling weight of motherhood.

Midlife crisis, right?

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Sorry you are feeling blue. If it makes you feel any better I nodded with understanding through this post and think that the struggle you are describing is ripe for literary exploration. Maybe the universe is trying to guide your hand?

Anonymous said...

I'm in academia (science though) and I understand. I'm not quite to your upcoming birthday yet, but I did not go the PI route and feeling inadequate and like I didn't belong are some of the reasons why (only figured this out with the benefit of hindsight of course). I have felt like an imposter for years and recently met a professor who actually probably *is* an imposter, and it was really difficult and enlightening to figure out why I was so upset after talking with this person. Lately I've been thinking the way forward is to realize there are many different ways to contribute; being a professor is just one of them.

Chiconky said...

Ugh. I’m sorry. This whole middle-age thing fucking sucks. I definitely get it. I feel like my reputation is unwarranted and it’s just a matter of time before I’m found out. Why do we do this?! (I do have a theory that a bit of neuroses is required to be a high achieving woman though.) I’ve been batting around the idea of updating and publishing my thesis (my dissertation was so, so boring so it gets to live in the past.) Want to be accountability partners?