Snobbin: Beautiful Trash in the Pop Culture Gutter

I never live up to what I expect from myself. I have Imposter Syndrome and Generalized Anxiety. I achieve most of my goals, but I am still unhappy since I do not know when to quit.   I cannot stop comparing myself to others despite different career paths.  I compete with myself as much as others.  I have been teaching five courses per semester at the highest level for years. I have a vigorous publishing schedule that often gets in the way of my personal goals.  I enjoy writing most of the time.  I'm not getting any younger, so I think I might just have to give up. I should settle for what comes and finally write that book.  I will remain tired.   I am angry most of the time. 

writing poetry is fun when you have free time; however, you might not take it seriously when  you have bills piling up in the corner, when  you have a pile of stacked midterms, when you have an article due with the editor breathing down your neck, when the editors are not responding to the lengthy e-mails you send them, or when you find that editors and readers want  a different style than you are selling, and students want a different grading system; you cannot pay the bills without the CVV number, the QR code, or  whatever that thing is; you cannot pay the bills without an exorbitant convience fee that ain't so convenient; editors don't care and students don't care that you have bills due, and creditors don't care that you are done  with their codes and numbers just like you are done  with the numbers on the midterms, or the unreturned phone calls to political campaigns; it is October  in an election year; however, you should take that seriously. wri...

I missed working at the library for the last several years, so I plan on working here more this semester. I am still waiting to get my office on campus, so I am sequestered in the library, importing my classes into Canvas and revising my syllabi. Hopefully, I will be doing most of this in my office in the future because I am excited about doing research at the library again. The library is always quiet, and I love hunkering down between books, and working. The musty smell of the books, old wooden tables, brick walls, are like home to me. I have been working in school libraries for years, and I never get sick of it. However, sometimes I get too comfortable and dose off between the stacks.

" One should, for example, be able to see that things are hopeless and yet be determined to make them otherwise. This philosophy fitted on to my early adult life, when I saw the improbable, the implausible, often the  'impossible,' come true.”  -F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Crack-Up , 1945 I should be working on many different things, including applications, revisions, and grading student papers. Yet I find myself at a cross roads, torn between doing the things I love and trying to keep food on the table. I struggle at being an academic, a teacher, a citizen of this mess of a country, while working sixteen hour days. I feel disappointed and broken if I take time to watch a movie or listen to a record. The mounting stress and anxiety bleeds into my work, etching my writing and my scholarship indelibly until the two become inseparable, a misshapen hulk of a thing, trending between monster, art, and commerce. I know that this will someday end at the inquisition or the tenur...

I'm still plugging away on my dissertation, which keeps getting moved back but will surely be defended by this spring. Then, I hope to return to a regular schedule of blog posts. I am currently teaching five courses and trying to finish up, as well as work on revisions for journal articles, etc. Life is busy.