I'm drunk again.
Why do I have to be so drunk to write an entry here? I'm drunk all the time. I shouldn't be. I have my fucking PhD comprehensive exams next month. I haven't even scheduled them yet. That's how scared I am. They'll likely be at the end of April. I'll more than likely pass them. But I'm still writhing, wondering how I'll ever be able to write three pages on some obscure question about Torquato Tasso, whom I've never studied but whom everyone here studies. I'm worried about how to answer shit I haven't re-written out of my 5 years of graduate school notebooks (a current project, the most boring one I've ever undertaken). I have to give a conference talk next week in New York with my archnemesis on the same fucking panel. He opens his mouth and I become enraged. How am I going to do this?
NONE OF THIS FUCKING MATTERS
My mom keeps asking what my Plan B is "if this PhD doesn't work out." At first I wanted to curse her for even asking that question. Now I wonder what I'm going to do in 2 or 3 years. A professor here just got fired after 5 years, no tenure, despite numerous publications and a very good teaching reputation. Fuck me.
Maybe I'll do something in medicine. I'd really rather do photography and/or writing, just like everybody fucking else.
I'm starting to collect rare/antique books. I just bought 2 books published in the 1700s for about $150 on Etsy (seriously???) and I think I'm either going to start my own collection or start selling them to the library. I love the way they smell.
I love my body right now. I haven't run in ages, and I lift weights with the boys maybe once, twice a week if I'm really willing. It's so curvy and sexy and still wonderful. I want to share it with someone.
I had a 2-night stand with a boy who came out to visit for a mutual friend's birthday almost a month ago; we're still talking every day. He didn't go to college, actually didn't even finish high school, yet is probably more well-read than most of my colleagues. He looks like Jared Leto with less buggy eyes. I'm kind of in love. He lives in California. Some days I seriously fantasize about dropping out of this nonsense and going out there to work in a cafe or something stupid like that. Something I don't have to think about/stress about/identify with 24/7 and feel bad about myself all the fucking time and just be with someone who actually likes me
I'm in love with my cat
I am listening to a playlist titled "Hipster-Approved Classic Rock" and I don't even care
I feel stupid all the time
I feel like I'm losing my memory slowly
I want to cut off all my hair
I want to grow out my hair down to my ass
I want to give up
I want to sleep all day - oh wait, I already do that
I have horrific fucking horrible dreams about physical violence and blood and gore
I need a fucking break
I don't know what I'm doing
People keep telling me I'm doing it well but
fuck it, man
I wanna die in weird ways while still staying alive
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