Don't forget to...breathe

I know things are bad when my precious students say to me, "Breathe, Ali, BREATHE!"

Of course they have no idea about the gazillion lists and files and notes and post it notes and articles and links and pieces of scrap paper that are lying around my house to keep track of school--which are buried under piles of toys, clothes, sunblock, and dog hair. Let's be real...my life is out of control.

Say what??

Yep, my life is out of control. Wicked out of control. That struck me today. What a craptastical today. My toddler (it should be the terrible threes not the terrible twos) was "resting" in her room while the poor babe was attempting to sleep. Of course those attempts were squashed by the roar of the pissed off toddler. I digress.

I looked around my house--utter, total chaos. I think I have sheets for my bed. Right now I have a nice blanket draped over the mattress. My ceiling fan is caked with layers of dust and dog hair. There are piles of clothes, laundry baskets, shoes, toys, books and purses I once used---all strewn across my bedroom. Dog hair tumbleweeds, toys, toddler projects, baby garb, and dog hair (i have two dogs, i can mention it twice) cover my house I look around, and I sometimes swear I have no idea where the hell I am or what kind of twilight zone I live in. My toddler has transformed from a sweet, loving, inquisitive and caring thing to a bat shit crazy raging hot mess. I remind her to breathe. She tells me she doesn't need to breathe and she doesn't like that idea. Sometimes she says no thank you.

Then there is grad school. Good.fucking.grief. Yep, I said it, and I will say it again and again. Apparently...Alegedly..pressumeably...I am graduating in 11 months. That is less than a year. Somehow I will finish and pass my preliminary exams, write and defend a dissertation proposal, write and defend a dissertation, present at two conferences, find a job, teach, live life and somehow sleep. Uhhhh...so what gives? My sanity?? Yeah, I lost that in 2009...

It's funny how the uncertainty affects me. It is like watching a train wreck...literally watching a train wreck and seeing my grad career and my stack of articles blow up into a million pieces while my hands are tied behind my back, I have no voice and all of the perfectionists taunt me. I watch the train wreck...and there is not a damn thing I can do to stop it. You call out for help, people say they are coming...yet...they never do. That my friends, is my life. I can't get drunk, I can't get high, I can't throw tantrums, I can't be self-destructive. Maybe I can blog, or run, or do yoga or some shit like that...if my wrist continues to do well maybe the answer will be to kickbox again. But until then, I sit, watch, and smile...moderately overconsume caffeine and remind myself that these are the dreams that dissertations (no abbreviations please) are made of.

So why am I posting and not working? Burned out for the night.
Posting and not sleeping? can't sleep, clowns will eat me...or rather, i am so consumed by panic and stress that i don't have time for that sleep crap.

The solution? I have no idea. Move forward, don't look back, don't look ahead...just move as fast as you can...and hope that you avoid the traps, you avoid the mines--and that you do not crash and burn.

POSTMODERN RESISTANCE!!!

Yep...sanity still missing.