Cut that shit out.

Okay kids, I didn't get the chance to say this when it first came up a few days ago, but now that I've got time to breathe, I want to nip something in the bud before it gets out of hand.

We get that it's natural to speculate about who we are. But we've got to ask that you not do it in our fucking comment threads. We sincerely hope these threads are useful places for people to vent or read stuff about what other people are going through. So we really, really don't want to get rid of the threads. But since neither PGS nor I has the time to moderate comments, if speculation about who we are keeps going, that's what we're going to have to do. It'll suck, and I'd really rather not. But we've just got no incentive to provide a forum for people to try to fuck us over.

Cause I do look a lot different outside my work clothes

UNC philosopher Jesse Prinz (or someone claiming to be him) asks a question worthy of its own thread:

[W]hat do you folks think about the fact that people on the market are expected to dress in a way that significantly departs from what we wear in the classroom?

To which I add a (related) question: Which is more regrettable, that many philosophers teach while slovenly dressed, or that job candidates are expected to wear semi-formal attire?

Who will kill the fattened calf?

In comments, someone asked, "Whatever happened to nth Year? Drop out, get a job, in jail, all the above?"

None of the above, I'm afraid.

My partner and I made a deal during the summer: I could spend all the time I wanted writing the dissertation and prepping articles (which meant never seeing her) so long as I wasn't writing blog posts when I could have been doing family stuff. Fortunately, the deal seems to have paid off, since we're still together, the dissertation is defended, and I've got a couple of articles under review. Now that we're on the other side of the APA -- and my interviews seemed to go pretty well -- I think there's a way for me to return to PJMB. (I've also got a number of reflections from APA interviews and interactions worth sharing.)

I may be showing up just as the party is dying down. But, I don't think that the passing of the eastern APA will be enough to tame the job market beast. At least not for me.

WTF?

I'm home. Looks like I made it out of Baltimore alive. And, I'm somewhat shocked to report, I think some of my interviews went really well. Like, far better than I'd dared to hope they would. Turns out people think my project is kind of interesting. Turns out I'm capable of performing under pressure. Who knew? Certainly not me. I'm kind of stunned. In what world am I one of those freaks who actually enjoys herself in interviews? It's sick and unnatural. But there it is.

I'm droolingly exhausted. Bed, please. Maybe when I wake up, a good three days from now, there'll be some fly-back requests waiting for me in my inbox. That'd complete this insane series of events rather well, I think.

Take a Load Off, Fanny

I'm a big coffee drinker. I love the taste and I love the ritual. But for the past while whenever I've had even a small cup of coffee, I've been able to feel my heart beating in my chest like it was getting ready to explode. The caffeine, on top of my pre-APA anxiety, made me feel--physically--like I was going to die. So no coffee for me.

But my interviews are over, for better or for worse. And although I still have a lot of job market shit to do--say, write a job talk I'll probably never give, figure out how to pay Visa for the cost of my hotel the past few days--I don't want to think about any of that for a day or two. I've got a long trip back home, and I'm going to spend it trying to relax. And I'm going to have my first cup of coffee in over ten days.

I'm So Tired, My Mind is on the Blink

Well, I don't know about anyone else, but last night's smoker sucked for me. After one of my profs told me and my officemates that a glass of wine cost $10, I didn't even bother figuring out what the cost of a beer was.

But worse, my schmoozing sucked ass. I had a discrete eye on a couple of departments' tables all night and the people I wanted to talk to were just never free. In comments, "Right Said Fred" says about the smoker, "Meet some people. Talk about your work. Terrifying." Well, sort of, yeah. When you're lining up with another dozen or so candidates desperate as you to meet those people, and when you've been told that how well you talk about your work that night could possibly affect whether or not you'll have a paycheck in September--then, yeah it is sort of terrifying. Or if not terrifying, then at least really, really shitty.

I'm Not Saying I Beat the Devil, But I Drank His Beer for Free

Okay, I'm back in the hotel room and I'm fucking exhausted. I guess the obvious observation about the smoker is, seeing thousands of philosophers all crammed into the same crappy corporate hotel ballroom is really fucking weird.

I'll have more real commentary on the smoker another time, but for now I'll just say my pick for the evening's highlights were the lights going up and down at random times. At a couple of points over the course of the night, the lights in the crappy corporate hotel ballroom got really bright, and it sort of felt that point at the end the night when the lights come up in the bar and the bouncers start kicking you out into the street. Then, at other times, the lights went almost totally dark, and all the cool kids who go to rock shows started cheering, I guess from some sort of indie-kid reflex.

I'm Tongue-Tired, Waiting, Hoping, and Praying

Dinner with PGOAT and one of my office mates ran a little later than I'd planned, so I'm already late for the smoker. Oh, well.

Anyway, here's the problem we'll be facing tonight. For the civilians following along at home, there's an APA custom that says people who've interviewed should find the departments they interviewed with at the smoker, and make with the small talk. You know, show what a charming junior colleague you are. Okay, fine, right? What's the problem with that?

Well, my problem is, I have no idea how to start those conversations. I've been wracking my already shit-kicked little brain for natural openings, and pretty much all I can come up with is, "So, I'm supposed to come over and say hi, and I really, really want a job. So, um, hi."

Think that'll fly?

Hello, my name is ...

Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down

Here's some last minute interview prep: How to tie a tie.