Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Smoke and Mirrors

I am a stress-magnet.

I had nosebleeds when I was working on my tenure folder. I had them again when I was compiling my folder for promotion to full professor. With my hernia, I get sick to my stomach and start quietly emitting small belches when I'm under duress, and let's just call it "massive gastrointestinal disturbance" when I'm completely overwrought.

We're interviewing people for a couple of librarian positions at the college right now, and when I say that this is one of my absolutely least favorite activities in the universe, I am not joking. All day yesterday, during the first round of candidates, every time we hit a break, my stomach got the better of me. Last night, I ate a copious number of Tums Ultra and went to bed, only to get back up around 3 a.m. to have a few more chalky tablets. Now I'm waiting to walk over for Round 2 of interviewees.

My stomach is in revolt again. See, I really hate committee work. I'm always made to feel stupid...and that my opinion has no value. I have to go through the motions of judging others to satisfy the obligation of participation. I'd rather be shot. It's that same old abysmal feeling of knowing that nothing that I say or do really matters very much.

I may be a full professor...but what does it mean? I still feel like I did when I was called to account for various things in front of my father: the stupid little girl whose ideas are unmerited and indefensible for one reason or another. One of the few things I miss about college is the Honors Program (one of the others is my friends) because I never felt foolish or left out.

Oh, well, onward and downward. I hope I don't throw up today.

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