It’s me. I win. I’m the whiniest person ever. I thought about posting these last night, but I thought, maybe I’ll be less whiny in the morning. I’m not, so this is all I’ve got for you.

  • I got a flu shot yesterday. Ow. I’m thinking I may not be lifting the big heavy weights today.
  • Met with the Advisor. Feel less than reassured. First, while I am, indeed, freakishly paranoid, it’s also true (as I suspected) that he *is* avoiding me, and also that this just might, actually, screw big things up for me. For starters, his first words to me were, “Well, this is uncomfortable.” Apparently he partly meant talking to me about this issue, and partly meant–ready?–that he can’t talk too much about it, because the department, as he puts it, now “really, really, really hates” him. Not-Reassuring moment #1.
  • Not-Reassuring Moment #2: I asked how much of an impact he thought this move would have on me. His initial response: “I hope it doesn’t have a negative impact.” (Uh, yeah, me too. Thanks?) His second response? “I don’t know who will take my place [oh–did I mention he’s also the Department Chair?], but hopefully it won’t be someone who, you know, despises me. Otherwise, you should be fine.”
  • Attempt-at-Reassurance #1: “But don’t worry.”
  • Attempt-at-Reassurance #2: “I might even have more contact with you after I leave, since I’ll have more time.”
  • Attempt-at-Reassurance #3: “Try not to worry.”
  • I like the guy. I really do. He’s a brilliant and prolific writer, he’s an innovative and ambitious researcher, he’s got a great teaching style, and he’s generally a friendly, awesome human being. But reassuring? Not so much.
  • Also, are some of the reasons for my paranoia becoming clear?
  • So I’ve been actually working on the dissertation for the past few days, trying to turn 50+ pages of outline and notes into a draft chapter. Feeling some, shall we say, urgency to finishing sooner than I’d expected. Which would be fine, except that the more I try to start writing, the more I realize that I’m just not even close to done with my fieldwork (well, I’m close–maybe another three months or so. There are giant holes in my data right now.) So I’m in this frustrating place…I’d love to write the whole damn thing right-the-fuck-now, but I literally can’t. Boo.
  • I feel a little like I’m suffocating in the mountains of unread books, untranscribed interviews, and unanalyzed data piling up around me. I’m kind of spazzing out and not really able to pick just *one* thing to work on.
  • Also, I have to buy Christmas presents. We leave on Saturday for the Other Coast, and that buying-gifts thing just now dawned on me.
  • GB has his last final of the semester tomorrow. I’m guessing stress levels around here will taper off a bit. On his end, at least.
  • This whole post, and the seven more bullets I’m going to spare you and not write here, can be summed up like this: AAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!