One thing I miss about Former Me: I used to be better able at working on something and feeling like "At least I am working on this, I am making progress" and not worrying about the other things I have to do.
I realized that today: even the simple pleasure of keying in data is gone (it's repetitive, doesn't require much thought, but is a step on the way to data analysis), because I find myself thinking of how I need this rewrite DONE, like, YESTERDAY. And how I also have two exams to write for NEXT week, and I have to figure out the court-case assignment for my other class. And, and, and. And my house is a mess again, and I need to make time to work out this afternoon because I couldn't drag my sorry backside out of bed early enough to this morning.
Being an adult is way less fun than I imagined it being when I was a child. I suspect that's true of everyone (at least, everyone who isn't fleeing a dysfunctional childhood). Responsibility is not fun. Work is not fun. Especially not fun is having responsibility without authority, where there are places where I'd like to put my foot down on stuff but can't.
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This new prep just did me in this semester. I mean, it was a good class, I enjoyed the students in it, and I understand I'm doing an important service to my department - but I don't sleep well on nights before it because I'm so worried about doing a "good job" (it's environmental policy and law, which is about as far out of my expertise as it's possible to go and not have it be gross malpractice for me to be teaching it).
It doesn't help that - as I said on twitter (euphemizing slightly more here) - it just seems there are more rude jerks in the world than there once were (or maybe I notice it more). Driving home for lunch, I had one of those situations where I clearly had the right of way (green light) but someone on a side street started LOOMING out, as people do, almost a game of chicken to see if they could get me to slow up (no dice: there was someone behind me) and let them in. I HATE that because I always expect the person is going to just GO and then hit me.
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I'm already telling myself when I get this rewrite done I am getting myself some kind of a treat, but I cannot think of what. There is nothing I need, and anyway, Christmas is coming, so buying myself anything I could ask for as a present isn't a good idea. And there are no movies opening I want to go and see, and no interesting museums within easy driving distance.....so I don't know.
Maybe I'll think of something later. I hope so. I don't like this feeling of "I can't think of anything I would want" because it's also close to the "I know I should eat but nothing appeals to me" feeling when I'm unwell, or the "I'm bored" feeling when I am getting sick. (I know I'm getting sick if I'm bored, because I usually have too many things I want to do).
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I just want this rewrite DONE. I am working on tables right now. They want tables of EVERYTHING, even stuff that would not reasonably be table-fied. But whatever. I'm doing as I'm told because it's easier to do it than to try to justify not doing it (and risk getting a rejection). But right now I'm at the "I'm so sick of it" stage. Which is the unfortunate thing about academic (and maybe all) publishing: at the point when the thing is actually going to press and you should be happy and excited? You're so sick of it and so deflated from all the work you can't be happy about it.
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