I've Been Working from Seven to Eleven Every Night, It Kind of Makes Life a Drag

Motivation's hard to come by right now. I've been scraping enough of it together, day to day, to get some work done. But it's not coming easily. I've been managing by trying to keep a pretty steady eye on my dissertation and trying as hard as I can not to think about the job market. Actually writing philosophy feels alright, even if it's slow and painful in its own way.

But the job market's back. Deadline's are coming. I've been putting off dealing with some stray post-doc applications, because, right now, thinking about the job market makes me feel like an unqualified failure, too beat down to think a clear thought. But they couldn't be put off any more, so I started them today.

I got some shit done that needed to get done, but I can't work on any of these application without feeling a bodily, physical sense of revulsion. It's like my body's trying to get me stop, because it feels like it's taken enough punishment from this shit already.

Fuck, I hate doing applications.