My mother is concerned that I’m close to burnout. I fear she may be right. I’ve not stopped since graduating a year ago, and I doubt I’ll be able to stop any time soon.
June 1. Summer starts. I’m in a building on campus from 8:00am until at least 5pm (except for weekends, when I go to a coffee shop when I wake up); I spend my days with an amazing collaborator (who simultaneously silently encourages me to “keep up my end” of joint projects and makes me feel as if I will never catch up) working on our own stuff and then also trying to get undergraduates to publish. Knock on wood, my personal project and my collaborator-based project is fine; but I’m flipping out about the undergraduates. Trying to get undergraduates to contribute something new to one of the oldest fields in existence is pressure like you wouldn’t imagine.
I suppose I did have one weekend “off”. I drove 600+ miles in 72 hours to go to two late-night celebrations which were wedding related. Oh, this was the afore-mentioned wedding where I’d get to see my ex. We managed to avoid each other rather successfully and there was no drama. But yeah. That’s my time off. I’d not exactly count that as relaxing.
Enough of the pity party. I’ll sleep when I’m dead. You know the setup. Here’s the list:
- Only Women Bleed, Tori Amos
- Another Free Woman Gets to Walk Away, Blackie and the Rodeo Kings
- Flume, Bon Iver
- Billie Jean, the Civil Wars
- Landslide, Fleetwood Mac
- Our Lady of the Underground, Anais Mitchell with Ani Difranco
- Roses, Outkast
- Born on Fire, Ike Reilly
- Brooklyn Baby, Lana del Rey
- The Professor, Damien Rice
- Smoke & Mirrors, RJD2
- Mama Knows, Sister Sparrow and the Dirty Birds
- Stressed Out, Twenty One Pilots
- Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole, Martha Wainwright