grad school, politics, knitting and other meanderings. And not enough time for any of it.

 

 

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: : previous posts : :
wisdom from the side of a fridge
the first day of fall
film review: Darkness
paddling the day away
where did the week go?
seeking advice
a suggestion to the Illinois Tollway
a close call
denied.
wayside


: : archives : :
05.2004 06.2004 07.2004 08.2004 09.2004 10.2004 11.2004 12.2004 01.2005 02.2005 03.2005 04.2005 05.2005 06.2005 07.2005 08.2005 09.2005 10.2005 11.2005

: : daily reads: :
and she knits too
bighappyfunhouse
birdfarm
bookish wendy
feminist blogs
feministe
fidgety budgie
get yourself some boring
the half-assed gourmet
the imposter syndrome
indigirl
j autumn
journal to a muse
kp's ramblings
mad teach
magic eraser
the maryann show
media girl
not your ordinary
the other side of the ocean
professor dork
satan's laundromat
sir edwin pegasus
the third attempt
to live and drive in LA
views from a broad
the wrong side of the bed

 

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knit me more time...
Sunday, September 25, 2005
overworked, underappreciated

I have literally spent the last day (long, long hours) getting through a book I chose to read for a class. And all I have to do is write a 750 word paper on it. I chose to read it because I had never read any 18th-19th century feminist writing before and who knows when I am going to have a chance to endulge in such stuff in the future. Don't misunderstand- I am so thoroughly enjoying this book, but also it is also killing me that it takes me so long to read. I am not a slow reader, but the text is just dense and hard to get through. And there was so much other stuff I needed to do this weekend... I must also gripe a little about my job- the job that pays my tuition and the bills. I never feel right complaining about it, as it is a job that is so hard to come by. It is the very fact I am so grateful for the job that makes me feel even worse when it makes me want to scream. Last week I thought I felt caught up with my list of things to do, and then Thursday and Friday filled the list up again, with no end in sight of actually finishing anything. Then, to top that all off, the head-honcho I work for pulled me into his office to ask me about something that I know nothing about and have nothing to do with. When I politely told him that, he asked what it was that I do. I wanted to scream, but I just calmly listed the miriade of the dozens of things that I do. I mean, I do sit at my desk frantically working every day. I do everything the half-dozen people I work for ask me to do. I swear I am not twiddling my thumbs for 20 hours a week. And I always try to tell myself I shouldn't care so much. As long as I have been in the workforce (since I was 15 and shelved books at the library after school) I have always cared 150% about work and all the little issues and dramas that came with it. Even when I was going to school full time, knowing that jobs were only temporary stepping stones, I always cared so much that people would have to remind me that it wasn't my actually my career (so why should I care what is or isn't in my Borders personel file). Sometimes I wish I could be one of those people that glides through life with (the illusion, even) of not caring so much about every little thing- getting detentions in high school, not doing homework, showing up late to work, late to meetings etc... Who am I kidding? I would never be able to survive like that. Instead I just have to deal with the fact I do care. And maybe try to be a little more vocal about the work I do (instead of being so modest, maybe). Maybe working on my own work would also help out with my sanity. Whenever I don't have time to focus on my own writing, I always get irritated by stuff like this way too easily.

posted by knit wit | 9/25/2005 11:30:00 AM

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