I think, since I have to post so much, I will bore you by talking frequently about tenure and what incredible bullshit it involves.
Here's an interesting fact: I resent, deeply, deeply resent in an almost rage-filled way my university and my department. I used to be a happy, positive, ardently loyal member of this little cul-de-sac in the suburb of academia.
Now I am the local crazy. Not quite mass-murderer crazy but the one you might wonder about. You know I'm peering out from the drapes hating you, hating all of you. You don't quite know what I'm capable of but you feel my oozing wrath as you see my come home to my yellowed lawn and shuttered, dark cheerless home. I don't go to the block parties and you wouldn't be brave enough to eat my hot dish even if I did come.
Well, that's just in my head. I'm still pretending to be nice. So that when I do snap they will all say: But she was SO NICE
It's a marriage gone bad.
I have my reasons but one thing I've wondered about is whether the bitterness is not due just to the fact that everyone is so *&%$ing stupid and hypocritical and full of shit but also because they might reject me. By not giving me tenure.
I hate rejection. I'm I doing a pre-emptive break-up? But let me say: I am justified, oh so justified in my resentments, petty as they are.
And yet, any spouse has his/her faults. The thing is to love in spite of the faults and one can do that with a job as well. And yet, I hate, I despise. Also, I grouse and complain. I gripe so much that I heard my daughter griping the other day. I've already taught her to gripe! Or else I passed on the gripe gene.
But they are such mother effing hypocrites in this place. Let me tell you one awful thing they do. They say: Would you like to meet on such and such a date? Or would you like to do X to talk about Y? When of course, what they mean is: MEET ME ON SUCH AND SUCH A DATE. Like, you have no choice and yet they pretend you have a choice. Oh God, I hate that shit.
Oh, but would you like to know what is even more irritating. It is this: Even though we are virtually powerless and have to jump when they say jump they like to pretend they are giving us a choice and they are all nice to us and hence, we are supposed to feel grateful. For the fake respect we are shown.
Of course, this doesn't give you enough information. There's so much more but my wrath wearies me. But what do you think: Justified resentment? Or pre-emptive break-up?
And how long can I hide this? How long can I fool my husband even though I'm shagging the pool boy* and the mere touch of his withered hand makes me ill? Long enough for the pre-nup clause to kick in? (I.e., to get tenure?) Or will I be found out and ruined forever, forced to work at Walgreens for minimum wage growing ever more bitter, my youthful juices sucked dry, the best years of my life wasted on this bullshit school?
Tune in next week. Or next year. Whichever the case may be.
*Obligatory sex mention.
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