(Except Al’s surprise pregnancy after a negative beta. I’ve always been skeptical when people say it’s not over until you get your period, but here’s some evidence! Anyway, back to my tedious and empty existence…)
I found out yesterday that the paper I submitted to an important conference was accepted…as a poster. Getting a paper accepted as a poster instead of a talk is a slap in the face (for this conference–for some conferences a poster is perfectly prestigious). It’s what happens when your work is interesting enough to avoid complete rejection, but not good enough to warrant a time slot in the program. Poster sessions are a sad land of graduate students who aren’t ready for the big time, and sub-standard scholars. Like me. I feel awful about this. Awful because I’m such a failure, awful because there’s no way in hell I’m flying all the way to Portland, Oregon to do a poster (I hate Portland with a burning passion. I spent the worst year of my life in Portland, and while it wasn’t Portland’s fault, I don’t think Portland made it any easier. YOU SUCK, PORTLAND.), and awful because I can’t quite convince myself that I can not go. There are multiple excellent reasons why I should go…but the idea of being in Portland, a place I hate with a burning passion (did I mention that?) doing something that will make me feel like worthless shit is more than I can really contemplate at the moment. So this whole thing sucks.
Things at home also suck. I’m so dispirited that I don’t even want to talk to my husband. He’s been very busy finishing up his MBA, and I’ve been very busy weeping uncontrollably. So a bit of distance has crept in. But I also think I’m angry at him, because I feel so scared and alone. As all women know, however wonderful and supportive our husbands are, there are moments when we are simply alone. I know it’s stupid of me to be angry that he can’t comfort me out of my fear and sadness, particularly if I don’t even ask him to. But when I think about how we need to have a nice talk, I just feel overwhelmed with the pointlessness of everything in the world. Like I can’t muster the energy to make my situation better. FUCK.