Nomadic Life

My friend A is having this affair right now with a young Berber guy who lives in Morocco, and she keeps texting me from the tops of camels. It sounds so very exotic (except for all the sand everywhere), but I'm not much enjoying this nomadic life right now.

I was supposed to be in denver at an academic conference, but at the airport on sunday, I was feeling crappier and crappier. Flu-ish. There were delays and stuff, and I had the chance to get bumped and get my ticket refunded. So I took it, and spent the last day and a half in bed, more or less. Knitting and whinging.

I'm just feeling... demoralized. I realized last night that F and I are going to have about 3 nights together over a month after this weekend. I feel like crap with a pounding achy headache all over my body. I can't make my brain work, I'm panicked about my deadline. And Linda said our panel was a bust at the conference. In that sense, my instincts were right, but it raises so many questions about how to find our niche when I'm actually done this frickin' phd. The interdisciplinary scholar-practitioner part of this means we have no natural home. Sometimes I'm tired of having no real base in EVERYTHING I do.

Just... blech. Trying to salvage something out of the day, but it's very hard to maintain the energy, not to succumb to the tightly wound ball of whining, panicking, some weird, untethered resentment and anxiety. Wondering whether home is even the right metaphor for what it is I seem to be lacking.