Last week I mentioned how tired I am. It's a physical tired, but not just that. It's a tired that's in my head, too.
In comments, M.A. Program Faculty Member reminded me of something Old Fart said a while ago. Think of getting a job as a marathon, not a sprint. I get the point of the marathon metaphor. I need to take the long view of my prospects. True enough, because it's not like getting a job is a sprint, either--or at least that's not how it's turning out for me. Also, it's impossible not to appreciate sincerely the kindness and empathy that's meant in this advice. In some sense that's the really important thing.
But still, I can't quite buy the marathon metaphor. It gets the rhythm all wrong. Getting a job's not slow and steady, so that's not how I'm going to win the race. I fucking hammered for months. It's not just the amount of work I was doing, although it was that too. It's the heart palpitations and cortisol-level spikes; it's the insomnia; it's the hope and it's the fear.
But now that's all over and I'm left feeling like I lost three pints of blood. Now every day's about trying to get some momentum back, trying to find my groove. Come September, I'll do it all again, hammering for months and then crashing hard. That's not a marathon. I don't know what it is.