Saturday, 03.18. 2017 - 8:57 am.
I give up. I will finish T's class with the same halo of mediocrity with which I started it, except I was not aware of how bright that halo was. Now I am. I can't bear it, I have a feeling of generalized unwellness because of that class. It's not the class itself that makes me feel that way, it's me. I'm stupid. I would have never lasted this long in academia if it had been so challenging all along.
Last class I kept my mouth shut, unable to speak my ideas about how to write a good essay, and these ideas were eventually mentioned by other people. I hated myself. The one time I have actual contributions, I don't speak! I can't even explain my reasoning for not speaking...do I hate my voice, am I ashamed of my accent, am I going to say something dumb?
The last nail of the coffin was a very nice e-mail from the professor (wait, I think that's not how I should be calling him, I still don't entirely grasp UK academic titles and ranks)...lecturer? Well, T, e-mailed me saying he was sorry most of the discussion was about the assignment I wasn't doing, and asked if I would please lead the discussion next Monday? I was...I don't know what's the word, I was like, I don't deserve such courtesy and yes, I am leading on Monday. I replied saying I wasn't sure about contributing to the assignment discussion but I knew a bit writing (I do!), and I would be happy to help with anything in the class regarding that. It was a very stupid thing to say (you show, you don't tell!), and he replied with a thanks that sounded more like a "uh, thanks?". Like he needs any help. Like I've shown any remote capability of making a meaningful contribution to his class.
I have to go prepare to lead the discussion on Monday. I've been so wrapped up in that class that I've been keeping my distance with my studies, which are also not going that well anyway, though it's not due to lack of attention. I have to go prepare to lead the discussion on Monday. I've been so wrapped up in that class that I've been keeping my distance with my studies, which are also not going that well anyway, though it's not due to lack of attention. I've felt so frustrated and dumb and useless lately. I have nothing of interest to offer to anyone, not my academic work, not my non-academic writing.
Speaking of which, this week is the first one in many, many months in which I will not update two of my blogs. I don't want to stop updating regularly but then again, who cares about those blogs? Who reads all that? The class takes up a lot of my resources, more than needed. I mean, I don't need to dedicate so many hours to prepare, and yet I do, and yet I still don't have anything of substance to bring to the (discussion) table.
Change of topic, much-needed: Andrew and I had a...no, it's not that we had a fight, I got mad (kicking-furniture mad) over something he did AND didn't do one of these nights. I told him why I was mad but I couldn't get my point across and he didn't understand. We got back to talking gradually the next morning, though never about the source of our fight, and for this he put more effort in than I expected (I mean, he didn't have to make that effort; my reasons to be mad were valid but I was very aggressive, though I made sure to be alone in a room to let that aggressiveness out). We're good now. Like we are most of the time. Allow me to say that my relationship with Andrew is a huge source of life satisfaction.
Just so I won't be unwarrantedly over-pessimistic: Andrew and I were accepted to present at a conference in Amsterdam in July. That, however, opens up the discussion about how incompetent and slow I am with statistics, and I'm scared all the time about fucking up my data. But let's not ruin the moment: we're going to Amsterdam!