Saturday, May 13, 2006


All I have done this week is work. Really. 'Das all. For, on average, 15 to 20 hours per day. Absolutely nothing to report. I assume no one wants to hear about my boring dissertation, or about the five (count 'em, five) 20-page conference papers I've somehow researched and written this week, some of which will be published in upcoming books. Plus I'm in charge of a lot of things right now work-wise, in like five different realms of responsibility.

I am a fucking machine. But, uh, a machine that churns out lots of wonderfully quality work, as I must be the best at everything.

This is not just natural drive or ambition, either. The only thing I make time for is to go running for an hour or two every day. But I use this as some form of punishment, one that, after a given time daily, finally makes me feel fantastic (and fantastically numb). Some night/days during bouts of insomnia I'll go running around 3am, through Smithfields meat markets near my flat; I know half of the gruff blood-covered night-owl butchers there by now. There is something very wrong with me...?

Now I must decide whether or not to take my laptop with me to Scandinavia early tomorrow morning (specifically Finland, then off to Sweden and Denmark). With my approaching dissertation due date and tons of upcoming conferences and book publication dates, I must decide whether it'll make me crazier to be around my evil laptop, or if it'll calm me down knowing that I can make angry, angry love to my laptop and work whenever I suddenly, psychotically need to, while also strutting through three countries during the next week.

Machine, I'm telling you. I. Am. A. Machine. And I'm quite worried that my fuse is gonna explode soon. I'm gonna burn out. But I can't stop. I can't say No to current or future work responsibilities, opportunities or performances. I don't chill out, ever. And I definitely don't sleep. Sleep? SLEEP!? What's sleep? The darkening circles under my eyes are gonna propel me from looking like a 21-year-old to a 121-year-old.

I will also take any Helsinki, Stockholm and Copenhagen suggestions...and, um, all drink offers...

I'm anal retentive. I'm a workaholic. I have insomnia. And I'm a control freak. That's why I'm not married. Who could stand me? - Madonna