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05.19.04 - 10:29 p.m.
life begins again after a marathon 48 hours of number crunching (an experience WORSE than doing my taxes), i computed the final grades for my four discussion sections and turned my grades in. grades aren't even due until next friday the 21st, but thanks to sille's anality - and his jetsetting lifestyle (he's off to london tomorrow) - procrastination wasn't an option. and i let it go - the worries that i wasn't grading properly, the voodoo magic i turned to adjust my grades to fit his curve...i swear to god, i went so far as to figure out averages to the hundredth decimal point (as in the highest grade i awarded was a 98.76!) - i feel proud for advocating that we award A+, since the common word on the street is that humanities majors are always at an unfair advantage to math+science majors (where answers are cut and dry)... anyway, it's over... well, mostly. i've still got to write final comments for the 24 students that requested that i mail them their final papers instead of putting them in the shredder... but the point is, today it was okay to look up again at my life, and figure out what the hell i've missed out on, and to face the multiple logistical bonfires (tiny, but still fiery none the less) about the important 16 weeks going forward. many many emails to return. a sublet to find in california. travel and research grant applications to complete. a syllabus to plan, books to order, a teaching philosophy to write out...and did i mention a dissertation to write? i started a blog to store those academic worries, which i've neglected, but need to start tending again soon. i must say though that i'm in awe that i have a project, a priority to face again... i must give myself credit for actually make it through this end of the semester in far finer style than usual - i did go to plenty of functions, receptions, readings, movie nights, happy hours, since classes ended on may 5th. usually, in times of stress my period goes on hiatus until the day AFTER i turn in whatever paper, project, deadline i've madly tried to meet... so the fact that i'm 'regular is a good sign that i'm able - on some level - to keep up with my life - or rather, still have a life - even when work's taking over my every waking thought. the last few days - since monday - have been somewhat surreal - i did not stage a dramatic walkout on monday's session...instead, i showed up 20 minutes late, and only after she called my home and cell phone. see, the funny (cynical hah hah) consciousness that i've gathered after umpteenth years of therapy is that i know exactly what how my actions will be interpreted, even as i do them anyway... resistant to treatment? show up late. resentful, and afraid to articulate anger at therapist? then stand stonily smugly silent, and nod appreciatively as they mumble words to fill up the silent dead space (dead because they know on some level that they've fucked up, that THEY're actions are on the hot seat...)... ... but then i'm not non-neurotic now am i, if part of the reason i dragged my heels leaving the house was i couldn't figure out what to wear because suddenly it's summer, and all my clothes fit like shit, and i sincerely just didn't know how to leave the house without finding some shred of clothing in which i felt my body maintained some shred of dignity... i won't rehash the whole stupid session, except to say that i will give the T credit for calling my 'scare tactic'...which was, yes, i did bring the vial (okay, old prescription bottle) in which i've saved shards of teeth and fillings...a collection to which i added another piece on sunday... and after i told her that i was late because i was deliberating about a troublesome part of our conversation last week [implicit mssg - i'm leavin' you honey, just wait til i say the word], i said something about her words [most ppl wouldn't call that a binge] put salt in the oldest wound of bulimics - this pressure (internal and external) to prove their sickness, to inscribe evidence somewhere on their body]... and so, i said something flippant about - not having my pelvic or shoulder bones jut out, but here's another set of bones... and i poured them onto my hands - something i've only done in private - and she asked for the bottle and actually poured them into her hands too - now that's a gesture i've only written fiction about - never seen it in real life - this therapist holding my bones in her hand - and she didn't flinch - although - i kept thinking she's just daring herself to do this really gross act to impress me - (although, isn't that exactly what i was doing to her). and yes, it's true and not true - sure i've binged and purged more in the last week than i have in weeks (maybe since spring break even)...and some of it's because of her stupid remarks - not just devaluing what i call a binge, but using the language of COMPARISON - 'you know some OTHER ppl wouldn't consider that a binge' - isn't judging myself by other people's standards what fucked me up in the first place? i hate that i'm aware that she doesn't want me to leave - i hate that i care - i want to be callous and just walk away - problem is, even if i start with some one else - i've got this life plan of getting the f*ck out of this town by next year - and i'm not sure what's the use of starting all over, when i'm justing going to have to end it soon again. but binging of control hasn't just been about her. or even that my roommate's been away (and i have major guilt that i ate some of her food, and replayed a very old habit of binging on roommate food, then scavengering for 'replacements' at the grocery store - sick old drama) - but that i also recieved a jolting informal email about a grave matter - an academic/scholar/writer and fore-mother in latina studies was found dead last week... i'd be more explicit, but i have this paranoid fear that this journal will be discovered by others while they pursue information on her. see the thing that got me all in a tizzy - if my deepest trigger (#1) is the my ambivalence about living alone, facing loneliness etc..., well deepest trigger (#2) it's correlary is hearing about exceptional academics of colour found dead in their apartments... just about year i've been on my campus - a graduate student has been found dead - takin their own lives or died in their sleep of a heart attack, usually related to some addiction - and just as life is going well for me, i do fear sometimes that i'll die in my sleep, i do fear that i'll be found dead in my apartment - the fear isn't just being found dead, but also the release of the secret that i i work so hard to maintain - the cause of death - would be ofcourse depression, loneliness, unhappiness, dissatisfaction - and everyeone would know - it's hard to explain - i can't control the perception of who i am or my life's experience once i'm gone - yet, i've made a tremendous turnaround in terms of not being invested in letting that image of loneliness and hopelessness out to the world to see. i'm not in denial that my social life sucks - in terms of prospects in this uncity to ever find anyone - but that's not what i want others to reflect on my life and think that would be the cause of my death - i'm not making any sense, i'm sure - my current life goal is to get out of this town and finish my program in one piece, so that i CAN go on living in a city center where i'll feel so much more at home, where i'll find a different person to flirt with every night, where anonymous ppl walk by me on the streets and we co-exist with a tremendous erotic energy, that arises when any dream is possible, where there's hope.... here - i've walked the same streets so many times - the stores, their clientelle, the store hours, the busdrivers, everything's so damn familiar. i can accept that sameness year in and out. i can also accept that i WILL find the differences i crave once i leave here... what i fear sometimes is that i won't make it out of here alive in order to greet those welcoming differences head on for myself - while i'm still young, purposeful, energetic, alive and ABLE to live the 20something life i've deferred for years in favor of some loftier goal. anyway, there's more...i'm tired though - can't decide if i should finish the novel i started in february, or just go to sleep... whatever i choose, i smile knowingly that the day ahead will be entirely my own.
MUSIC: bach
READING: everything and nothing
FEELING:woozie
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