marginalia

"o glamorous life!" i think as i sit here eating a late dinner, which tonight consists of a slightly stale poppyseed bagel (or "fresh beagle", if you prefer) cut in half, smeared with spaghetti sauce from a jar, covered in slices of mozzarella, and microwaved for 1:43. having just returned from a syntax reading group meeting (who pays attention to the syntax of things...) i find myself with several hours of comparative dialectology ahead of me, and me not wanting to begin.

speaking of new years resolutions already fallen by the wayside ("eat vegetables for dinner"), my main resolution was to accept more social invitations. but i'm realizing now that i have once again constructed a semester in which that might be impossible. why do i do it to myself? i know this is supposed to take years, but i think behind it is the same itch that makes me have the Incompetent Dumbass days when i make a glaring analytic error: i want to know it ALL and i want to know it NOW. and don't you try to tell me that i can't or shouldn't try to learn it all now.

you have no idea what i'm capable of, remember?

oh and i end up in places thinking why am i here, how am i here. i don't fit here. but maybe one never quite fits in a new place until the space moves around a little to accommodate their presence. at least this is what i tell myself on the days when i feel like i don't belong anywhere.