(perhaps this is a poor choice of music, iTunes, thanks a lot)
1. I guess first things first. I found out that my father, who not so long ago had an operation for his aortic abdominal aneurysm, has ischemia and has been to a cardiologist. If that wasn't worrying enough, he apparently also has (non-invasive) bladder cancer. I haven't talked to either of my parents, but my brother talked to my mother today, and passed along the information to me. So, yeah. I thought I was in the clear, as far as family worries went, but apparently not. I'm not sure what else to say about this except: this sucks.
2. I'm a little afraid to call my mom to wish her happy mother's day, because I don't think I can handle having a conversation about my father's health. At least I sent her a card last week.
3. I've had a headache since I woke up this morning and haven't been able to do a damn thing all day. I think I'm going to crawl into bed and lie very, very still.
4. I had a moment today. I was sprawled on my bed reading a bunch of articles when I realized I was rather uninterested in the subject matter. One of the articles was written by an anthropologist, describing when and why he decided to become an anthropologist, his passion for the field, and all sorts of things. And I realized that, simply put, I no longer have a love for academia, for reading and ideas and anthropology. In short, I simply do not care.
5. My nagging fear that I'm never going to finish my fucking thesis has gained weight and momentum. I'm sorely tempted to call it a day, make a clean break of things, and just leave. I'm not sure I want to stay in the city anymore.
2. I'm a little afraid to call my mom to wish her happy mother's day, because I don't think I can handle having a conversation about my father's health. At least I sent her a card last week.
3. I've had a headache since I woke up this morning and haven't been able to do a damn thing all day. I think I'm going to crawl into bed and lie very, very still.
4. I had a moment today. I was sprawled on my bed reading a bunch of articles when I realized I was rather uninterested in the subject matter. One of the articles was written by an anthropologist, describing when and why he decided to become an anthropologist, his passion for the field, and all sorts of things. And I realized that, simply put, I no longer have a love for academia, for reading and ideas and anthropology. In short, I simply do not care.
5. My nagging fear that I'm never going to finish my fucking thesis has gained weight and momentum. I'm sorely tempted to call it a day, make a clean break of things, and just leave. I'm not sure I want to stay in the city anymore.