Go to grad school, they said...

You'll get a better job, they said. You won't be able to work as an anthropologist without an advanced degree, they said.

They didn't clearly let me know how fucking much work I would be doing. Or that my entire life would be consumed with reading journal article after journal article.

Or that I would be expected to do additional volunteer work on top of my assistantship and the class projects I would be assigned each semester.

Apparently, when you sign on for graduate school you suddenly become a super hero that has extra time in the day.

All I want is one full night of sleep. At this point Jack won't even sleep in the bed with me because I toss and turn all night long. And you would think that since I'm not sleeping I could use that time to finish up the readings. But that's not how it works. I start reading and I get drowsy. I lay down and I'm wide awake. It's an endless, mind-numbing cycle that is quickly driving me insane.

What is it that you're reading, Jess? Thanks for asking. It's a whole bunch of old, dead, white guy theory. It's 200 to 300 pages a week of incredibly mind-numbing, convoluted bullshit. I read it and think I understand it but then I get to class and suddenly discussion comes around and I have no fucking idea what is going on. My notes don't line up with anything that is being said in discussion. So I just look like a fucking idiot the entire time. Or I look like I don't know what's going on because I'm not contributing to the conversation.

Spring Break is coming up soon and I'm heading out to LA to see NOG. It's going to be a lovely time. Hopefully I don't spend it all asleep and ignore NOG the entire time I'm there.