Acade(me)

The dissertation was only the beginning.

People & Places
T: Amazing Husband
ST: Three-year-old Wonder
Prof. G: Advisor I
Prof. C: Advisor II
Julie: Stylish Sister
Rob: Awesome Brother
Belle: Our Cat
Bill: Grumbling BIL
Rita: Uncomplicated SIL
SMU: Smallish Midwestern University
Doctoral University: where I got my Ph.D.
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Quote of the Day
Friday, July 29, 2005
Ugly Days
I am having an ugly day. You know, the kind of day where no matter what you do, you feel homely and gross. These kind of days really make me mad, because they stifle my productivity, especially when I'm working from my home office. Everytime I pass the bathroom, I take a look in the mirror and think, "Man, what a trainwreck!"

Admittedly, I haven't done much to make myself more attractive today. I showered, let my hair air-dry, threw on a pair of shorts and a shirt that will (after today) be dropped in my "to donate to Goodwill" box, put on a little lipstick (the only makeup I wear), and then arranged my too-long head full of split-ends into a ponytail. I hope my sister can come down soon; she's a stylist for Aveda, and she promised to give me a full makeover before my conference. I need a haircut. Badly. I was trying to grow my hair out a little longer, and now that it's past my shoulders I know that I am not a long hair person. I am a medium-length hair person who secretly hopes someday she'll be brave enough to be a short hair person.

I also feel ugly when N and I get off to a bad start. Everything is usually fine when both T and I are at home with N, but when T leaves for work in the morning, N has a fit. "I want Dad! I want to go with you, Dad!" he screams, huge tears rolling down his face as T hugs him goodbye. While I'm thrilled that N and T have such a fantastic relationship (and they really do), and while I know that N loves me just as much, it still stings a little when N hangs at the window to watch his father leave, and screeches at the thought of coming with me. This morning was a bad one. N cried and cried after T left, threw his breakfast on the floor and started spitting when I asked him to stop, refused to let me brush his teeth, and whined all the way to daycare. I, of course, was frustrated and felt like all I did was yell at him all morning long. Such is life with a 2.5 year old, I guess.

Of course, I'm already off the schedule I set for myself yesterday, because I'm writing this and not doing my dissertation work, and that makes me feel worse. Time to head that feeling off at the pass, though, and get to work. The day is still recoverable.
Posted with care by Prof. Me @ 7/29/2005 10:19:00 AM  
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