01 July 2004
ponderings from the archives
[previous entry]
Sitting in the old Paulinerchurch in G�ttingen, the seat of the State- and University-Library G�ttingens. They house the contents of the �old� library here, e.g. the archives. It is just a hop, skip and a jump from my apartment, but sometimes, many times, I have to pull myself together to even come.
I�ve been in a funk lately, and it ha to do with numerous things, and I don�t want to enumerate everything right now. Doesn�t make much sense, wouldn�t be interesting, and, regardless, if/when I read this in 20 years, I�ll know what I am talking about.
One of the things that is freaking me out, though, is the job market. I�m in an esoteric field, to say the least, though it concerns the most fundamental of communication - expressive culture. Its just that the study of expressive culture (little things like customs, big things like narratives) gets ignored. That�s fine. I know it is important. But I hate the lack of respect I get. Damnit, I�m getting a PhD from a frickin� Ivy League (granted, one with an inferiority complex, but an Ivy nevertheless, NOT THAT THAT MATTERS TO ME), and people still think it is �cute�, if anything. Or �interesting�. Yes, dagnabbit, it IS interesting. You just don�t know why, and I somehow can�t bother to explain it to you.
Let me get off of that rant for a second, and return to the stress factor, which would be the J-O-B. I�m almost 27, and besides summer jobs, plus the 4-years of childcare I did 5 days a week at a childcare center when I went to college (undergrad), I haven�t had a �job�. Because, so shoot me, I�ve been in school straight through. I didn�t take a break after highschool (you kidding me, my parents wouldn�t have accepted it), and I didn�t after undergrad (because not doing anything scared me, and I didn�t know what I wanted).... And academic jobs are so few and far in between, and now my hubby is going to go on the job market, and it scares me what it means for me. I�ve done OK for myself, even well, in terms of my academic career - I�ve published, I�ve given oodles of talks, and I�m doing things in a timely fashion. And yet ... and yet ...
So the deal is that the hubby goes on the market before me, so the random job in Hodunk that might come up in my field will be out of reach. And if I put it that way - do I even WANT to live in Hodunk? Probably not. Definitely not. But it just is scary that I�ve �trained� (what are my skills again?) for so long, and that the jobs are still far and few inbetween, and I don�t like that feeling. I�d like my own income, thank you very much, to share the financial burden. But perhaps I need to get to the point where I know, and I should be grateful, that I can rely on my husband until I DO find the job. I wasn�t raised like that, though, I was always told and told again that I needed to be financially independent.... It�ll be OK, though. My sweetie is understanding of my Angst, wants to make the decisions together about his job, to up my chances. I need to let that stress go. No need to feel it now, when I have a fellowship for next year.
I wonder what people wo don�t know me think of me when they interact with me for the first, the second time? Do I come across as snotty? Confident? Happy? Do I come across as timid (I doubt it)? Can they tell that I feel like I am posing?? Crazy stuff. I�d like to be able to take an objective stance, step back, look at myself, and see myself how others see me. Not only how those that know and love me see me, which would be nice, but also how other, say, academics see me, or how, say, the people at the archives see me. Why? Is that pure torture? It shouldn�t matter what other people think, but somehow I have this need to know. Often I have the need to please, too, that I want people to be happy, to be happy with me. And I know that what it amounts to is that I need to be happy with myself.
Often I am. I really am. I
I have curves that are just curvy enough for me, I enjoy being a woman. I can�t wait to be a mother. I enjoy being my hubby�s sweetheart, I enjoy being his love and lover.
I like my sense of humor, I like that I make myself laugh too sometimes. No, I can�t tell a joke, but I can play with words and be witty... sometimes... and I like that I laugh when I am.
I like it when I get a good idea, when it materializes out of I don�t know what.
I like how I try and enjoy little things: good food (oh god good food), the way the air smells after a rain, crunchy fall leaves, bitingly bitter and hot coffee.
(Usually I am not so, what is the opposite of the world humble?!)
Anyways, I�m doing OK. I�m lucky. I need to remind myself of that, instead of harping on all of the things, both big and little, that are wrong in my life. And I can let go of some of my control issues too. I really can.
Whew. Back to work. What a long rant....
Later gaters!
dandlioneyes at 2:36 pm