I'm sitting at a cubicle on the 5th floor stacks. I was going to take this time and atmosphere to continue my frenzied last minute preparation for a conference tomorrow, but now... I'm going to write here instead.
Good news and bad news. I'm no longer presenting at the conference. That relieves a great deal of stress... but I've also lost the respect of a professor I dearly love.
Stress relieved, yes, but I feel like shit.
I feel like I shouldn't be working for an amazing literary review, shouldn't be able to take these amazing classes... I don't know how I got these things. Late, late, late. What excuse do I have? "To present at the conference is a privilege you have not earned." Privileges I haven't earned.
It was a nice email, a straightforward, formal email. All true. He ended with "Please know this is not personal. I'm disappointed, but I still support you and your work and your future."
I think I should stop quoting the email. It's making me feel worse.
Oh Caswell, how can I face you?
So tired. Head hurts. I almost want to bike home and go back to sleep. Wouldn't that be silly. Expend energy to regain some energy. I could just sleep somewhere in the library, but it would be so nice to be back home in bed, protected by sheets and blankets and pillows that muffle the sounds of the universe.
Hell. The exercise and comfort would be good for me. I don't care if "True solace is finding none." I'll take my cheap instant solace for now and brew homemade solace later.
Somehow, I want to handle this well and turn it into something positive. I think I'll handwrite a note for Clara, apologizing for not following through and presenting alongside her. Telling her how wonderful a speaker and writer she is. Maybe I could do the same for Diane and the kind man in charge of the conference, at least in email format.
"I promised to my wife and children. I'd never touch another drink as long as I live. But even then, it sounds so soothing... this'll all blow over in time... this'll all blow over in time..." ("We Used to Vacation," Cold War Kids)
My 'poison' is laziness and procrastination. Most of the time, I feel like I'm living my life singing a constant apology.
It's unpoetic of me, but I don't like to end blog posts on pure sadness. I hope you're doing well, having an amazing day, loving your life. Thank you for reading. I love you so much.
