I turned 30 as of a few hours ago. I've yet to be struck by some great profundity of this event, although people keep assuring me it will happen. I can say that my twenties were by and large unrepeatable and that I am really quite happy to be past all that.
I thought of a bunch of different things I could do for a 30th birthday blog posting, but none of them seem all that worthwhile. There's the "accomplishments of my life so far," but beyond listing the grad school stuff which I don't want to list because I'm fairly frustrated with having done it, I don't really know what to list. I know a lot of people who would call getting married an accomplishment, but I think of it as a life choice rather than an accomplishment. As in, I'm happy in my relationship and I like having it cemented as a marriage, but I don't think that makes me somehow better off than someone who's single. That's just a different life choice or circumstance or something. Grad school, OTOH, was a product of being overly idealistic and of receiving a shitton of bad advice. So not entirely an accomplishment, even if I have (and may shortly-ish receive more) letters to shove after my name when I so choose. Meanwhile, do I have a house? No. Financial security? No. A career? No. Does this make me "behind" where I should be by now? Not really, because all of that is from a sort of arbitrary checklist of how to be a successful middle class person, and "successful middle class person" is a goal I'm only half-heartedly pursuing.
Alternatively, there's the "things I'd like to do by the time I turn 31/35/40" type list. However, I didn't have one of those "things I'd like to do by the time I turn 30" type list, and I'm glad for it because I'm not sitting here with the residual guilt or feelings of failure for having not accomplished something. Imposing some sort of structure on my life like that, when not strictly necessary, ends up causing me more stress than it really needs to: in other words, it becomes an imposition rather than a structuring mechanism. Things generally go relatively well when I work with whatever opportunities pop up anyway, so I will continue in that vein. I'm sure it seems aimless to some, but I've learned a lot with the aimlessness.
What I suppose is weird to me (and what is propelling the writing of this post) is that I, who can usually find the significance in anything (given that is ostensibly what studying literature teaches one to do), am lost trying to find the significance in a birthday that is typically seen as being some sort of milestone. I don't feel any older or any wiser than I did yesterday, or last week, or last month, and I suspect I will not feel any older or any wiser tomorrow, or next week, or next month. Life will continue to throw curveballs at me, and I will continue to respond (and occasionally to throw curve balls at it). At some point I will get a draft of my novel finished and decide what next to do with it. At some point I will finally get the dissertation done (or tell it to fuck off forever). At some point I will not feel so lost and confused, and at some other point I will feel just as lost and confused as I do now, or perhaps even moreso.
More quickly than all of that, however, and generally much more certain, is that Brownie will get home soon and we will go get me a birthday beer and then come home and make penne vodka for dinner. And tomorrow I will wake up and still be 30, and that will be okay.
Showing posts with label existential angst ONOES. Show all posts
Showing posts with label existential angst ONOES. Show all posts
Monday, February 22, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
In which I emo some
So the dissertation is still frozen in time, although this is not the fault of playing Farmville of facebook. It's just me and my performance anxiety/self-fulfilling-prophecy-fear-of-failure type thing. I probably can do this damn thing. So I should get on that so that it's done. So that I can stop grinding my teeth at night - my jaw hurts all the damn time. So does my back.
The novel is fairly well frozen in time at the moment as well, but not quite for the same reason as the dissertation. I've spent a fair bit of time with the novel docs open on my computer. I've mentally rehashed a particular character, and need to do the rewrites on that. Mostly I'm just stuck, however: like I've gotten it to a certain place and I know the other really major event that needs to be worked through, and then it needs to end... but I'm not entirely sure exactly how it ends and so have spent a lot of time mulling it over. A LOT of time mulling it over. Often while playing endless games of 4 suite Spider Solitaire (w00t 8% won!) and listening to whatever music seems helpful for whatever chunk of writing I'm trying to think about. There are so many ways this whole novel fits together in my head, but they feel blocked right now. We're supposed to get a Snowpocalypse this weekend, so mayhaps I'll spend probably-snowed-in-Caturday slathered in BPAL Block Buster and see if that has any discernable effect.
I'm having a hard time believing it's February already - I know I spent half of January out in KS but it still feels to me like it should be January. Or really, last October maybe. I know that I'm in mid-SAD for the year and that this is probably contributing to my general sense of nothing (nothing in the sense that nothing really affects me anymore, in that I'm already feeling just down and blank and whatever). I don't feel like I can think at all right now, like my brain knows it has a job (several, really) to do but isn't up to the task(s). This round of SAD is less self-involved and introspective than usual. I assume this is due to Brownie's ongoing job/dissertation stress, which has so overtaken his life that I feel mostly unable to live my own; keeping him even half-functional lately has been above and beyond my emotional capabilities. I don't blame him for this, really - I do think it's 99% how obnoxious and awful the whole academic job search thing is. I'm hoping he hears something soon so that we can even attempt to make some sort of near-future life plans. He did finally say (and seemed truly to mean it) that if the job stuff doesn't work out this year, we can pick a city, move there, and see what happens. I kind of adore this idea, but I'm not holding my breath.
So I do think that most of the lack of introspection during my current depressive funk is due to everything I just mentioned, but I also wonder if part of it is just that I've basically figured most of my shit out for the moment, but lack the energy or motivation to actually DO anything about any of those issues (i.e., classic depressive problem). I just wish I could get excited about something again, anything really, because I don't remember the last time I actually was excited. My basic range of emotions is this: genuine concern/care for family/friends, and blah. Like I'm turning 30 in 2.5 weeks. My thoughts on this are not OMGFREAKOUT, nor are they YAY (which is actually what I was expecting - my 20's are something I'm glad to leave behind me), nor are they anything at all other than "oh, I have to teach that day." Brownie has something big planned, but I haven't been able to get excited about that either. I've told him I am, and I very much want to mean it. It's just that finding the energy to be excited seems beyond me right now.
I think the depression is bigger than seasonal affective, because it's been going on way too long (erm, for at least the last two years). I've never had any luck with antidepressants, so I'm really resistant to going on them again. I hope to Ceiling Cat that leaving grad school behind will help - I've pinned my hopes for my sanity on that event.
I'll sign off for now. If I get really ambitious, I'll try and post every day until I turn 30 so as to chronicle the last few weeks of my 20's.
The novel is fairly well frozen in time at the moment as well, but not quite for the same reason as the dissertation. I've spent a fair bit of time with the novel docs open on my computer. I've mentally rehashed a particular character, and need to do the rewrites on that. Mostly I'm just stuck, however: like I've gotten it to a certain place and I know the other really major event that needs to be worked through, and then it needs to end... but I'm not entirely sure exactly how it ends and so have spent a lot of time mulling it over. A LOT of time mulling it over. Often while playing endless games of 4 suite Spider Solitaire (w00t 8% won!) and listening to whatever music seems helpful for whatever chunk of writing I'm trying to think about. There are so many ways this whole novel fits together in my head, but they feel blocked right now. We're supposed to get a Snowpocalypse this weekend, so mayhaps I'll spend probably-snowed-in-Caturday slathered in BPAL Block Buster and see if that has any discernable effect.
I'm having a hard time believing it's February already - I know I spent half of January out in KS but it still feels to me like it should be January. Or really, last October maybe. I know that I'm in mid-SAD for the year and that this is probably contributing to my general sense of nothing (nothing in the sense that nothing really affects me anymore, in that I'm already feeling just down and blank and whatever). I don't feel like I can think at all right now, like my brain knows it has a job (several, really) to do but isn't up to the task(s). This round of SAD is less self-involved and introspective than usual. I assume this is due to Brownie's ongoing job/dissertation stress, which has so overtaken his life that I feel mostly unable to live my own; keeping him even half-functional lately has been above and beyond my emotional capabilities. I don't blame him for this, really - I do think it's 99% how obnoxious and awful the whole academic job search thing is. I'm hoping he hears something soon so that we can even attempt to make some sort of near-future life plans. He did finally say (and seemed truly to mean it) that if the job stuff doesn't work out this year, we can pick a city, move there, and see what happens. I kind of adore this idea, but I'm not holding my breath.
So I do think that most of the lack of introspection during my current depressive funk is due to everything I just mentioned, but I also wonder if part of it is just that I've basically figured most of my shit out for the moment, but lack the energy or motivation to actually DO anything about any of those issues (i.e., classic depressive problem). I just wish I could get excited about something again, anything really, because I don't remember the last time I actually was excited. My basic range of emotions is this: genuine concern/care for family/friends, and blah. Like I'm turning 30 in 2.5 weeks. My thoughts on this are not OMGFREAKOUT, nor are they YAY (which is actually what I was expecting - my 20's are something I'm glad to leave behind me), nor are they anything at all other than "oh, I have to teach that day." Brownie has something big planned, but I haven't been able to get excited about that either. I've told him I am, and I very much want to mean it. It's just that finding the energy to be excited seems beyond me right now.
I think the depression is bigger than seasonal affective, because it's been going on way too long (erm, for at least the last two years). I've never had any luck with antidepressants, so I'm really resistant to going on them again. I hope to Ceiling Cat that leaving grad school behind will help - I've pinned my hopes for my sanity on that event.
I'll sign off for now. If I get really ambitious, I'll try and post every day until I turn 30 so as to chronicle the last few weeks of my 20's.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
In which, after yesterday's ramble, I complain for a time
I'll start off with a simple "today sucked."
Except that today didn't fully suck. Brownie and I went and saw "Up in the Air" FINALLY this afternoon and then crashed at Favorite Pub for dinner and that was fine and lovely. Really, only this morning really sucked.
What happened was simple. Somehow, last night, I'm not sure how, I managed to forget for the first time in my life to take my contacts out.
This, in and of itself, really isn't the biggest problem of all problems. It actually wasn't a big deal for a while. I took the contacts out when I realized they'd been in all night and left them out while I showered. Then I put them back in and didn't think about it, finished getting ready and began to attempt to run errands (biggest errand: I'm out of checks and new checks haven't arrived yet because my lazy ass hasn't ordered them. I need to pay rent. I went to the post office, but the computer there had borked itself and wasn't running debit card payments, so I was unable to procure a money order for my rent payment. As my bank is in KS, merely running by the bank wasn't an option. Anywhere else requires I pay cash, but it's not possible to pull the requisite amount of cash out of the ATM all at once. Ergo, rent remains unpaid (hopefully only) until tomorrow).
As I was driving in the car after running by the second post office of the morning (which was apparently having the same computer issue)(argh), a mote of dust flew into my right eye. Or SOMETHING flew into my right eye. It honestly felt like a giantass chunk of kitty litter. Anyway, it hurt so bad I yelped and damn near wrecked my car by driving it into the car next to mine. I managed to avoid that, but barely.
Being closest to the grocery store (and it being 1pm at this point, and me having neither eaten nor caffeinated myself for the day), I drove the rest of the way there mostly blindly and ran into the store with tears streaming down my face so I could get into the bathroom, pop out the contact, and try desperately to figure out what the hell had gotten into my eye.
Answer: nothing that I could find, although my cornea still hurts and I'm vaguely wondering at this point if I scratched it.
Finding nothing, I popped the contact back in, waited until the pain was more or less tolerable, and ran around the grocery store getting coffee and everything else I needed so I could go home.
When I got home, I got rid of both contacts, still couldn't find anything wrong with my eye other than OWFUCKPAIN, and ended up sitting on the toilet crying in frustration. Brownie knocked on the door to ask if I was okay and somehow ended up being treated to an hour's monologue of OUCH followed by screaming fit followed by me punching myself, the toilet seat and the floor followed by a long sob of existential angst. As the angsty bits have all generally been spewed here before, I'll spare everyone the details. Mostly it was long, self-involved, probably melodramatic, and leaves me wondering if there's a healthy-yet-still-effective way to deal with some of the "O GOD O GOD WUT DO I DO WITH MY LIFE" type feelings, because I sure as fuck haven't come up with one yet.
Brownie has decided he thinks I should see a therapist. I've been telling him I think he should see one since he promised me he would back in November, so I told him this afternoon that I'd bite if he did. I don't know that I should wait for him to, however, as it might actually be good for me to stop feeling like I ought to be able to handle myself and see instead if anyone else has any productive ideas.
At this point, I'm mostly mad that my eyes are still puffy from crying (seriously, eyes, it's been 10 hours, so quit that shit please) and that they still burn from having slept in the contacts. Also my right eye still stings in the same place it started hurting this afternoon in the car and I'd like that to stop.
Mostly, however, what I'd like to be able to stop are the random screaming, flailing, ineffective outbursts that scare Brownie and do nothing to help me deal with anything. I kept trying to tell him once I finally sort of calmed down that all in all I really just needed to get some of the tension out, but he knows and I know that it's a bit more than that. Like I know that I need to get back into running and exercising now that we're back home and I have gym access and above-freezing weather so that running outside is feasible, but I also know full well that exercise isn't going to fix everything; going on a run won't make me feel suddenly fulfilled or like I have some sort of purpose or whatever. I know this. But it might help.
At this point I just need this last fucking semester to be over (she whines before it begins) so that I can move on from this awful and misguided chapter of my life (i.e., the Ph.D. years) and begin to see what life is like outside of supposedly-vaunted Ivory Tower. I also need to cut it with the "I'm worthless and unproductive" type thoughts, because they're not helping a damn thing. I try to stop them when I notice them, but I don't think I really consciously realize that I'm mentally bagging myself until it's been going on for a while. Like having written all this, I'm sort of realizing that much of this post involves me berating myself for flipping out earlier rather than trying to come up with a productive way to deal with it.
Problem: I haven't the foggiest fucking idea how to deal productively with anything anymore.
Solution: ??????
(Step 3: Profit!)
So my problems, are they big? Cheebus no, they're not. I have a roof over my head and a warm apartment and food to eat and an amazingly sweet warm orange furball of a cat sitting on my lap and purring and a wonderful and amazing husband asleep in our bed. I'm honestly fucking lucky that my problems center around general existential angst. I should probably just sit myself down and try and write and try to figure out if there's anything I can do for anyone in Haiti that involves more than just money. So I'll fuck off for now and promise to try to be in a better mood the next time I decide to blither on.
As a final thought: don't do a Ph.D. in the humanities. It damages the soul.
Except that today didn't fully suck. Brownie and I went and saw "Up in the Air" FINALLY this afternoon and then crashed at Favorite Pub for dinner and that was fine and lovely. Really, only this morning really sucked.
What happened was simple. Somehow, last night, I'm not sure how, I managed to forget for the first time in my life to take my contacts out.
This, in and of itself, really isn't the biggest problem of all problems. It actually wasn't a big deal for a while. I took the contacts out when I realized they'd been in all night and left them out while I showered. Then I put them back in and didn't think about it, finished getting ready and began to attempt to run errands (biggest errand: I'm out of checks and new checks haven't arrived yet because my lazy ass hasn't ordered them. I need to pay rent. I went to the post office, but the computer there had borked itself and wasn't running debit card payments, so I was unable to procure a money order for my rent payment. As my bank is in KS, merely running by the bank wasn't an option. Anywhere else requires I pay cash, but it's not possible to pull the requisite amount of cash out of the ATM all at once. Ergo, rent remains unpaid (hopefully only) until tomorrow).
As I was driving in the car after running by the second post office of the morning (which was apparently having the same computer issue)(argh), a mote of dust flew into my right eye. Or SOMETHING flew into my right eye. It honestly felt like a giantass chunk of kitty litter. Anyway, it hurt so bad I yelped and damn near wrecked my car by driving it into the car next to mine. I managed to avoid that, but barely.
Being closest to the grocery store (and it being 1pm at this point, and me having neither eaten nor caffeinated myself for the day), I drove the rest of the way there mostly blindly and ran into the store with tears streaming down my face so I could get into the bathroom, pop out the contact, and try desperately to figure out what the hell had gotten into my eye.
Answer: nothing that I could find, although my cornea still hurts and I'm vaguely wondering at this point if I scratched it.
Finding nothing, I popped the contact back in, waited until the pain was more or less tolerable, and ran around the grocery store getting coffee and everything else I needed so I could go home.
When I got home, I got rid of both contacts, still couldn't find anything wrong with my eye other than OWFUCKPAIN, and ended up sitting on the toilet crying in frustration. Brownie knocked on the door to ask if I was okay and somehow ended up being treated to an hour's monologue of OUCH followed by screaming fit followed by me punching myself, the toilet seat and the floor followed by a long sob of existential angst. As the angsty bits have all generally been spewed here before, I'll spare everyone the details. Mostly it was long, self-involved, probably melodramatic, and leaves me wondering if there's a healthy-yet-still-effective way to deal with some of the "O GOD O GOD WUT DO I DO WITH MY LIFE" type feelings, because I sure as fuck haven't come up with one yet.
Brownie has decided he thinks I should see a therapist. I've been telling him I think he should see one since he promised me he would back in November, so I told him this afternoon that I'd bite if he did. I don't know that I should wait for him to, however, as it might actually be good for me to stop feeling like I ought to be able to handle myself and see instead if anyone else has any productive ideas.
At this point, I'm mostly mad that my eyes are still puffy from crying (seriously, eyes, it's been 10 hours, so quit that shit please) and that they still burn from having slept in the contacts. Also my right eye still stings in the same place it started hurting this afternoon in the car and I'd like that to stop.
Mostly, however, what I'd like to be able to stop are the random screaming, flailing, ineffective outbursts that scare Brownie and do nothing to help me deal with anything. I kept trying to tell him once I finally sort of calmed down that all in all I really just needed to get some of the tension out, but he knows and I know that it's a bit more than that. Like I know that I need to get back into running and exercising now that we're back home and I have gym access and above-freezing weather so that running outside is feasible, but I also know full well that exercise isn't going to fix everything; going on a run won't make me feel suddenly fulfilled or like I have some sort of purpose or whatever. I know this. But it might help.
At this point I just need this last fucking semester to be over (she whines before it begins) so that I can move on from this awful and misguided chapter of my life (i.e., the Ph.D. years) and begin to see what life is like outside of supposedly-vaunted Ivory Tower. I also need to cut it with the "I'm worthless and unproductive" type thoughts, because they're not helping a damn thing. I try to stop them when I notice them, but I don't think I really consciously realize that I'm mentally bagging myself until it's been going on for a while. Like having written all this, I'm sort of realizing that much of this post involves me berating myself for flipping out earlier rather than trying to come up with a productive way to deal with it.
Problem: I haven't the foggiest fucking idea how to deal productively with anything anymore.
Solution: ??????
(Step 3: Profit!)
So my problems, are they big? Cheebus no, they're not. I have a roof over my head and a warm apartment and food to eat and an amazingly sweet warm orange furball of a cat sitting on my lap and purring and a wonderful and amazing husband asleep in our bed. I'm honestly fucking lucky that my problems center around general existential angst. I should probably just sit myself down and try and write and try to figure out if there's anything I can do for anyone in Haiti that involves more than just money. So I'll fuck off for now and promise to try to be in a better mood the next time I decide to blither on.
As a final thought: don't do a Ph.D. in the humanities. It damages the soul.
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