The other week I dreamnt -
I'm lying in bed, and a demon is tormenting me.
It's this smaller shadowy figure just above my left shoulder, and after forcing myself to think exorcism formulas in the name of Jesus Christ again and again and again, it finally melts down into a smaller shadow, only to move and phase in somewhere down above my left knee and shin, kind of toward the foot of the bed.
I force myself to think more exorcism formulas, and it melts, but again it shifts positions, this time to where it was at first, though I'm not sure if it's one demon that's moving places or two demons who emerge at different positions, one at one time and then the other at another time, as my focus switches from dealing with one to dealing with the other and thus accidentally letting the first rest and regain power.
All the while, I have a horrible pressure on my chest and I have a very difficult time breathing, and it's like my thoughts are clouded and I have to force myself to think, and it never gets any better, except for the brief moments when one demon disappears, right before the next demon emerges.
. . .
Saturday, May 12, 2018
Friday, May 11, 2018
A dream of anxiety.
The other week I dreamnt -
I'm at my one resthome job where we have walkie-talkies, but it's a slow day, and so I stroll through these grassy fields adjoining the resthome, even though I don't have a charged walkie-talkie with me, so that instead I have to just keep my ears peeled for someone needing me.
Since nothing's happening, I stroll outward in increasing loops, including through these little forest glades that sometimes broaden out into the edge of big forests.
At some point, I realize I've gone too far and they probably need me by now, but I don't know what direction to go in, and so I walk rapidly in one direction, only to realize after a while that it's the one exact wrong way for me to go, so I double-back and eventually come across a guy in this little meadow area who I ask about which way to the resthome, only he doesn't know, either, so I'm just filled with anxiety about losing my job, since I don't know how to get back there.
. . .
I'm at my one resthome job where we have walkie-talkies, but it's a slow day, and so I stroll through these grassy fields adjoining the resthome, even though I don't have a charged walkie-talkie with me, so that instead I have to just keep my ears peeled for someone needing me.
Since nothing's happening, I stroll outward in increasing loops, including through these little forest glades that sometimes broaden out into the edge of big forests.
At some point, I realize I've gone too far and they probably need me by now, but I don't know what direction to go in, and so I walk rapidly in one direction, only to realize after a while that it's the one exact wrong way for me to go, so I double-back and eventually come across a guy in this little meadow area who I ask about which way to the resthome, only he doesn't know, either, so I'm just filled with anxiety about losing my job, since I don't know how to get back there.
. . .
Thursday, May 10, 2018
Of employment after a PhD.
Some articles have been coming up lately, and I realize that I was even more screwed after a Ph.D. then I thought, in terms of employment.
Basically, the articles say that you have to simultaneously build a parallel resume that tells a narrative that qualify you for a senior-level "expertise" slot in a sector related to your Ph.D., since otherwise HR people won't take a risk on you, and there's no way in heck that you'll get an entry-level slot that you're qualified for because you're too old.
In my own case, I could have gotten a union organizer job, but those jobs are overworked and underpaid and stressful, and you get burnt out, and anything else I applied for that looked plausible didn't "pop" until after more than a year-and-a-half of applying for jobs, until I finally got into home healthcare, from which I now have two (part-time) jobs that give me a regular 40 hours a week at minimum wage and near-minimum wage.
Because of a little money from a great uncle, I can pay off student loans, otherwise I'd have $400 a month payments that I couldn't meet since expenses are so high and wages are so low.
And, effectively, I'm using a third of my inheritance, to pay off student loans on a professional "dead end."
So, overall, not only is my entire family falling out of the middle class, but bad career advice that I got from head-up-their-ass tenure-track professors over a decade ago has eaten up a large portion of what (meager) wealth my family was able to accumulate.
When you get down to it, it's really appalling how reckless tenure-track profs are with recommending their profession to students, though less and less are now.
They get to preen themselves on sending students onward, and all the negative consequences fall elsewhere.
Basically, the articles say that you have to simultaneously build a parallel resume that tells a narrative that qualify you for a senior-level "expertise" slot in a sector related to your Ph.D., since otherwise HR people won't take a risk on you, and there's no way in heck that you'll get an entry-level slot that you're qualified for because you're too old.
In my own case, I could have gotten a union organizer job, but those jobs are overworked and underpaid and stressful, and you get burnt out, and anything else I applied for that looked plausible didn't "pop" until after more than a year-and-a-half of applying for jobs, until I finally got into home healthcare, from which I now have two (part-time) jobs that give me a regular 40 hours a week at minimum wage and near-minimum wage.
Because of a little money from a great uncle, I can pay off student loans, otherwise I'd have $400 a month payments that I couldn't meet since expenses are so high and wages are so low.
And, effectively, I'm using a third of my inheritance, to pay off student loans on a professional "dead end."
So, overall, not only is my entire family falling out of the middle class, but bad career advice that I got from head-up-their-ass tenure-track professors over a decade ago has eaten up a large portion of what (meager) wealth my family was able to accumulate.
When you get down to it, it's really appalling how reckless tenure-track profs are with recommending their profession to students, though less and less are now.
They get to preen themselves on sending students onward, and all the negative consequences fall elsewhere.
Wednesday, May 9, 2018
I'm "up and down" with campaigning.
Campaigning is a very interesting experience.
Some days I'm up, and some days I'm down.
I did a landscape memo and the race seems winnable, and my interactions are patterning according to how I anticipated, but some interaction might be new or go off wrong, or the incumbent starts to do something I didn't anticipate, and then I wonder, "Can I really win this?".
It's a heck of a lot of time to invest, to not win.
Though, I think it's a huge learning experience, and there's payoffs from the campaign that I'd satisfied with, even if I don't win.
It's so weird. So much time, so much time knocking doors, perhaps all for naught, in one major way.
I'm also really pushing myself to knock doors, with the same exhausting focus that I was getting people to sign cards in a couple of the unionization drives that I was in. I do it a shit-ton on my days off and then go hit up bars afterwards, and I try to make myself do it for a half-hour or an hour before heading in to work on the days that I work.
It really is like it's my job, outside of my job, and I don't really have a day off.
I can tell you one thing, there's no way that the incumbent is doing that.
Some days I'm up, and some days I'm down.
I did a landscape memo and the race seems winnable, and my interactions are patterning according to how I anticipated, but some interaction might be new or go off wrong, or the incumbent starts to do something I didn't anticipate, and then I wonder, "Can I really win this?".
It's a heck of a lot of time to invest, to not win.
Though, I think it's a huge learning experience, and there's payoffs from the campaign that I'd satisfied with, even if I don't win.
It's so weird. So much time, so much time knocking doors, perhaps all for naught, in one major way.
I'm also really pushing myself to knock doors, with the same exhausting focus that I was getting people to sign cards in a couple of the unionization drives that I was in. I do it a shit-ton on my days off and then go hit up bars afterwards, and I try to make myself do it for a half-hour or an hour before heading in to work on the days that I work.
It really is like it's my job, outside of my job, and I don't really have a day off.
I can tell you one thing, there's no way that the incumbent is doing that.
Tuesday, May 8, 2018
Another (mentally ill) man on the subway, redux:
A (cleanly-dressed) (tall) (thin) (young) (black) guy who's talking to himself and sits 2 seats to my left, making me draw up just a little so I sit in a less vulnerable position, and as he talks to himself in a running commentary, he's like, "I scared him," and so at the next stop I casually get up and go move to the middle of the car, and I continue to keep an eye on him and fortunately he gets up and leaves just a few stops later.
Monday, May 7, 2018
Another (mentally ill) man on the subway:
A(n early middle-aged) (scraggly bearded) (light-skinned) (black) guy, in scuffed-up black and dark grey sweats and blue sneakers with little-to-no-laces and the tongues pulled up and over so they're showing the cushioning material inside and they're like a bouncing arch on each foot almost reaching to his toes, and the air just smells of BO.
After he gets off after a few stops, someone else comes onto the train, and they go to go sit where he sat, but the smell is still so bad, they get up like right away and go down to the middle of the car to go sit there.
After he gets off after a few stops, someone else comes onto the train, and they go to go sit where he sat, but the smell is still so bad, they get up like right away and go down to the middle of the car to go sit there.
Sunday, May 6, 2018
Comment of a (Jewish) resident on the last night of Passover...
...as I was wheeling her in her wheelchair back to her apartment, after dinner:
"Now we can finally eat bread again."
I then asked if she was sick of not having regular bread, and she nodded.
. . .
Some parts of Passover are really a bit of a sacrifice for some people. It's very interesting religiously, how dietary changes become part of celebrating a holiday, even uncomfortable ones that people don't like. That really says something about culture and how tradition looms large and maintains itself, even against motivations to the contrary.
We humans are fascinating creatures.
"Now we can finally eat bread again."
I then asked if she was sick of not having regular bread, and she nodded.
. . .
Some parts of Passover are really a bit of a sacrifice for some people. It's very interesting religiously, how dietary changes become part of celebrating a holiday, even uncomfortable ones that people don't like. That really says something about culture and how tradition looms large and maintains itself, even against motivations to the contrary.
We humans are fascinating creatures.
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