I'm feeling stymied. More job rejections have come in, I'm back to scouring the internet for one-year positions, and I have to teach three courses this spring with a smile on my face while having no idea if I will have any living in six months' time. I have an article to revise and resubmit, a book review to write, and new articles to prepare. At some point this spring, I will have to have my book indexed, if the press ever gets around to sending me the galleys.
And I can't make myself do any of it. I'm starting to feel like the butt of a cosmic joke. If having years' worth of teaching experience at name-brand universities and a single-author monograph to my name can't even get me a campus interview, then what the hell is the point of any of this? I feel like I'm being made to jump through hoops that don't even matter. I have more expenses every year, including some family members who are increasingly dependent on us young'uns. My savings would be obliterated in short order if I had to move to some other state just to look for work. I can't afford not to work. Why is the universe jerking me around like this?
It's too disheartening to think about for long. Easier to think of Shakespeare and pretend that someone besides me gives a shit about my petty problems and my not-so-petty existential fears.
As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport.
Is there a more pleasant alternate universe that I could get transferred to? This one is getting me down just now.
And I can't make myself do any of it. I'm starting to feel like the butt of a cosmic joke. If having years' worth of teaching experience at name-brand universities and a single-author monograph to my name can't even get me a campus interview, then what the hell is the point of any of this? I feel like I'm being made to jump through hoops that don't even matter. I have more expenses every year, including some family members who are increasingly dependent on us young'uns. My savings would be obliterated in short order if I had to move to some other state just to look for work. I can't afford not to work. Why is the universe jerking me around like this?
It's too disheartening to think about for long. Easier to think of Shakespeare and pretend that someone besides me gives a shit about my petty problems and my not-so-petty existential fears.
As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport.
Is there a more pleasant alternate universe that I could get transferred to? This one is getting me down just now.
King Lear says it all. But you know at least you've not been blinded by a crazy person.
ReplyDeleteMaybe instead of drowning in the misery of Lear, you could adopt another Ian McKellan masterpiece as your touchstone -- Waiting for Godot. The essential summary of that play is: I can't go on; I'll go on. That right there -- that's where you are.
I'm sorry, friend. You deserve better news.
Hugs. I wish I had some sort of job or job lead to give you!
ReplyDeleteGot nothing to say but that I feel for you. And am thinking of you.
ReplyDeleteI am sorry. It's hard, and I've been there before. Just don't forget that you have a lot to offer beyond the realm of academia.
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry. If you ever feel like drowning your sorrows 100 miles away from where you live, my husband and I will be more than happy to have you in our couch and get you as s**t-faced as you want
ReplyDelete