A storm is brewing above me, in my head
May. 17th, 2004 10:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
judecorpProcrastination has always been a friend of mine. In truth, procrastinaction (and its close cousin, laziness) is the reason I have two Master's degrees, rather than one Doctorate. It would not be terribly difficult for me to obtain a PhD, I don't think. In fact, most people tend to say it would likely be handed to me easily. I slide through school like a knife through butter on a warm day. The simple fact of the situation is that I am too lazy to earn a Doctorate, too slack to complete a dissertation.
I try to sound self-assured and smugly state, "I know my limits." Do I? Or have I imposed these limits on myself? Am I covering something bigger, something deeper? Doubtful. I know in my mind that I could complete a dissertation as surely as I know that I don't want to. There's something largely academic about such endeavors, too academic for my tastes. Plus, I cannot possibly afford to ever attend school again. Surely I could become funded and have my scholarly pasttime covered, but could I survive outside of school? I have joined forces with a wonderful person who carries considerable debt. My years of making do on $600 a month are long since over. Have I become materialistic? I think, instead, I've grown loftier goals of partnership, family, personal legacy. And so it goes.
Another evening in front of the computer, another screenful of job postings, another zap of another resume. Phone calls have trickled to nothing as the number of listings has tightened. I imagine a bottleneck of lofty academic graduates, mortar boards in one hand and cover letters in the other. Can I compete with their youthful optimism, their career track, their rosy cheeks?
Cynicism they shall call me as I stand on the precipice of employment. Hire me, ye rascals of administration. Hear my cries of forward thinking. For soon I shall have a marriage license and shiny, hardwood floors. Certainly that counts for something.
I try to sound self-assured and smugly state, "I know my limits." Do I? Or have I imposed these limits on myself? Am I covering something bigger, something deeper? Doubtful. I know in my mind that I could complete a dissertation as surely as I know that I don't want to. There's something largely academic about such endeavors, too academic for my tastes. Plus, I cannot possibly afford to ever attend school again. Surely I could become funded and have my scholarly pasttime covered, but could I survive outside of school? I have joined forces with a wonderful person who carries considerable debt. My years of making do on $600 a month are long since over. Have I become materialistic? I think, instead, I've grown loftier goals of partnership, family, personal legacy. And so it goes.
Another evening in front of the computer, another screenful of job postings, another zap of another resume. Phone calls have trickled to nothing as the number of listings has tightened. I imagine a bottleneck of lofty academic graduates, mortar boards in one hand and cover letters in the other. Can I compete with their youthful optimism, their career track, their rosy cheeks?
Cynicism they shall call me as I stand on the precipice of employment. Hire me, ye rascals of administration. Hear my cries of forward thinking. For soon I shall have a marriage license and shiny, hardwood floors. Certainly that counts for something.
