I realize NOW that sharing ideas for research is a terrible idea. Even if the other party has good intentions initially, it usually results in them doing something w/ my research (or part therein) and taking credit for it.
I don’t have time to write an academic book. I wouldn’t even know where to start. I wrote my thesis 9 years ago (holy shit!) and never wrote another academic thing after that. It’s not like I didn’t want to. I have a pile of research in my office– binders and binders of it. But, either it’s the motivation or the time… or both, that keep me from writing.
So, help me. Help me get on the path to publishing an academic book. Help motivate me. Help direct me. Help. Just help.
My co-researcher on a local history topic and I feel as thought he has defiled the topic for me forever.
He wants to change the course of the info (we hit multiple dead-ends and I’m not about to rewrite the exact same thing), and now wants to sell it off to the paranormal community.
I told him that I’m not putting my name on historical research if its about this new direction. I’m not. I will never be taken seriously by the academic community (not that I will anyway– just an adjunct is more than a comeback line, it’s a one-way stop into academic peasant-ville).
I want to be more than just some simple adjunct… bound by the confines of the Obamacare specifics that limit the number of credits an adjunct can teach because schools are more than reluctant to give us benefits… but have no problem dangling that “if you do this job, one day you too may be full-time” carrot in front of us.
I’m getting tired of the damn dangling carrot.
I’m also tired of doing the same work as a full-timers (or more) and getting shit… I make about $700-750 per credit. So, do the math… $750 x 16 credits. And, that doesn’t include the blood-sweat-and-tears that accompany this job.
For instance, last night a student was messaging me (app, not my cell) about how he thinks I am unfair because I won’t let him turn in his work late.
Every single day, I repeat the same directions…
Every single day, I feel frustrated because (young) adults don’t follow the directions…
Every single day, I grow more disenchanted with education and am currently scraping the bottom of the academic barrel…
Every single day, I see an increase in this entitlement nonsense where students demand more from me than they give…
Every single day, I swear I am going to quit, but don’t…
Every single day, I wish education was better…
Every single day, I wish that this generation would take a long, hard look at itself and fix whatever it broken, stop blaming their parents, bosses, teachers, and peers; take credit for their mistakes, apologize when necessary, and say “thank you”…
And, perhaps THEN I will have less stress, be happier, and actually enjoy my job every single day.
I have sworn off discussing the candidates for the presidency. Why? It’s fruitless. There’s nothing we can do and are damned either way. If the United States is planning on setting itself on fire and throwing itself into a vat of gasoline, this election will cinch it.
And, I evoke my right to not vote. Yes, you heard me… the one who advocates everyone voting, no matter WHO the candidates are… has said she will NOT vote.
I am not settling. I am not voting for the “lesser of the evils”. I refuse to vote for anyone as president if they insist on making it about themselves and not about the people. I will create a public disturbance, preaching Rousseau’s social contract and Locke’s theory of government until someone in government says, “You know what, she’s right… the people can remove us from power… our founders put that in there as a safety valve or a big red stop button… this way we can avoid tyranny, corruption and abusive leadership and return to the true nature of this republican-democratic model of government… one that intends to allow the people the ability to choose and elect their representatives… representatives that actually listen to what the people want and not pay sole attention to their own interests… in other words, actually rule for the people, in a way that will benefit them, not us.”
You know, we’ll never hear a politician, regardless of the political affiliation, admit that they are self-centered opportunists who are using their position and even prestige (if they have any) to better themselves.
IS IT SO DIFFICULT FOR POLITICIANS TO CARE ABOUT THE PEOPLE? Or, better yet, not just merely care… act on it. DO IT!
Can you sense my frustration? My anger? My righteous-indignation? The part of me that screams “I’m just so sick and tired and I’m not going to take it anymore!“, loudly emoting from my inner core?
Maybe its just me that can hear it. I’ve been dragging my soap box around for weeks now… pontificating on the evils of politics… the evils of self-centered misogynistic politicians who play by the “boys club” rules… the arrogance… the lies… the dirty-dealings… the blatant slap in the face of hard-working Americans who just want to feel appreciated and that their hard work was not for nothing.
SO, here I sit, pirating my husband’s laptop, pondering my life.
I’m at an emotional cross-roads. If I stay on the path I’m on, I’ll be an adjunct for the rest of my life. I’ll never progress and will remain in this stagnate position with a perpetual carrot dangling just out of reach, but close enough to keep me stuck.
I can make a turn, but then the uncertainty of the unknown is staring at me. I could end up unemployed(er), unhappy(er), and further away from something that’ll make me feel worthy (?) and as though I didn’t waste my life.
Recently, I was thinking about my own mortality. When I am gone, what will people remember me for? Will I be remembered fondly? Will people laugh at me? Laugh with me? Laugh at my memory? Forget me?
For as much as I don’t want to be in the limelight, I also don’t want to be forgotten. My fear is that my kids, for instance, won’t think of me, won’t miss me, won’t wonder what their lives would’ve become with me there. My fear is that people will continue on with life as though I never existed, nary giving me a second thought. My life, my memory, my legacy will evaporate like a slight mist, a wisp in the wind.
And, that leaves me to say the inevitable…
I don’t want to be forgotten a few weeks or a month after I’m gone. I want people to talk about me, think about me, have a drink in my honor. Laugh, smile, snarl and yell… I want to be remembered as much as I remember… and not forget who I am, was, or could have been.
What is my legacy?
I don’t know. I have no idea. I want it to be lasting… a real and honest legacy. Let my life not have been in vain, is my plea. Not. In. Vain.
When you vote in November, think about legacies, about the common people, about what this could mean for all of us, not just the upper classes or illegal immigrants, working class, or politicians. Will this candidate truly improve the lives of the people of this nation? Will they work in our best interest? Care about how their decisions impact me?
If there is not someone worthy of our vote, we, the people of the United States, who are endowed with certain unalienable rights– life, liberty and pursuit of happiness– should use their voice, not to riot and destroy, but to get the attention of the political elite who decides our lives for us– by not voting… by not choosing the “lesser of the evils”… by not settling… by not allowing just anyone, regardless of political party, to represent us.
If you wouldn’t let some asshole destroy your personal reputation, why would you allow an asshole to destroy your country’s reputation?
It’s time to take a stand. To allow our voices to be heard. And, this is why I’m not locking this post.
Call me a radical. Call me an anarchist. Call me a chaotic mess with no direction in her life. You may be right. You may be wrong, but I’m not crazy. I’m incensed. I’m angry. I’m frustrated. I want change… and not the change promised in an election to get votes. I want the type of change that makes me once again proud to be an American. And, proud for all of the right reasons… not because I have to be, or was taught to be, but because deep inside my inner self, I can’t help but explode with pride.