Ancrene Wiseass

A would-be medievalist holds forth on academia, teaching, gender politics, blogging, pop culture, critters, and whatever else comes her way.

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Yes, this really is yet another blog by a disillusioned grad student. I sympathize, but that's just the way it has to be. For hints as to what my bizarre alias means, click here and here and, if needed, here and here. To get a sense of what I'm up to, feel free to check out the sections called "Toward a Wiseass Creed" and "Showings: Some Introductory Wiseassery" in my main blog's left-hand sidebar. Please be aware that spamming, harassing, or otherwise obnoxious comments will be deleted and traced.

Thursday, May 26, 2005


I don't even know if "deflation" is the word, really. I wasn't exactly not-deflated yesterday; just more energetic--maybe even manic. To feel as though some things were better than absolutely hopeless brought me up a bit, but today I think I'm crashing again.

I'm trying to keep myself busy and distracted, and I think I'm being pretty successful. I'm trying to wear myself out, at which I'm also being successful. Almost certainly, this has only limited value as a coping mechanism.

So wearying. Having to tell everybody all the time that this horrible stuff has happened. And knowing that they don't know how to react. And knowing that they're guaging my reaction. And wanting to explain that, if I can talk about it dry-eyed, it doesn't mean I don't feel it; just that, if I let myself go there, I'm afraid I'll never come back out.

I'm still not able to eat very much. Eventually, that may become a problem.