If there was ever going to be a day I would break, it would
be today. I haven’t yet and don’t intend to, but in terms of shitty days, this
is the Dogma shit demon of days. And it’s all my fault.
I’ll rewind ten days.
I found an e-mail from my Masters tutor, my tutor being the
sort of top-class champion that he often sends opportunities and updates for
his previous students. Long story short(ish) I am applying for a PhD in
Creative Writing with a cushy benefits package including a 6hr per week
teaching position.
And the
deadline is today. Because of course it is.
Now I haven’t really wrote anything since I finished my
masters, so I’m rustier than a spoon on the Titanic, and I have in fact been
working the majority of the time, which leaves me tired constantly. Which
brings me to today, Monday, 7am. Last night I worked my 3rd night in
a row, and at the end of the shift, at 6am, I sent my latest draft from work to
home (as they don’t let you use USBs because fuck you, that’s why) via e-mail.
There was 700 words discrepancy in the drafts, and it seemed I had mailed an
old copy. Well fuck. I’m off work tonight too. So I decide the only thing I can
do is to make the 25 minute drive to work at 7:20am.
Fun fact, 25 minute drive applies to 9:30pm, i.e. not rush
hour traffic.
An hour later I arrive at work.
I check my e-mails, half dead, and find I have in fact sent
the latest draft; I just missed seeing it at home because I was tired. There
was no reason at all to drive for an hour to work.
Now, at this point, I wanted a Boeing-747 to plough into my
chair, Donnie Darko style but I was not given such release. I had to sit and
wait for rush hour to be over, get my shit together and leave at 9:20. I am
home now at 10:08 and I still need to sleep.
In 6 hours when I plan to wake up I need to:
- Write another 800 words of my research proposal
- Write an academic CV
- Write a cover letter
- Fill in the 15 annoyingly similar questions on the job application.
Simples, I mean I have 8 hours until the deadline if I wake
up at four. That’s… yeah, fuck that.
I could have just said “fuck it, I’ll apply next time”, but
I think I’ll always regret not applying. I don’t want to lie down and admit defeat
and possibly miss the chance to actually get my life back on track, even if
leaving it this late means I'm handing in a half-rate application.
I will not go quietly into that good night.
Actually, I need to sleep. Good night.
Blogsong (because this came on the radio mid-traffic and I just sat and thought "yeah, fair enough")
