I have shorted out a motherboard and I am sad. One must be practical but I feel very sorry for my computer, which I had had only a short time and which I really love. I let it be hurt and I feel terrible. I want to say, though, that the lines of the liberation front are still not moving. I am quite dashed but earlier on, doing bibliography, I was running along as I used to do before I committed psychic hara-kiri. It was a wonderful feeling.
I committed psychic hara-kiri a long time ago because I finally heard, one too many times, that I should not be doing well and enjoying life. It was wrong and unfair somehow; I had no right. I had not taken this really seriously before but it got in that time, so I commenced systematic self destruction so as not to be so – I do not know, perhaps so as not to attract so much envy. It was very difficult to do. And after you commit psychic hara-kiri your work is gone, and there is nothing left but drudgery.
As I have said before, this set of decisions brought destruction and the envious, remained envious, so I am undoing it now. I have been told so often I have too much life and youth and talent and that it is so unfair. Solidarity is second nature to me but not martyrdom. Many confuse the two and require the second. I can give them that but I always feel it is being wrenched out of me. Eventually I tend to notice I have lost too much blood and I start to fight for my life.
I do not want to be in a position to feel I must fight for my psychic life, ever again. That is why I have my liberation front. It is a liberation front where we enjoy ourselves and take care of things, and the drinking of poison is not required.
So, suffering girls at R-1 institutions with libraries and 2-2 loads, this is a mean post and yes, it is directed to you. You may be oppressed by Golden Boys, the ones who win the prizes you feel you deserve, but all I would like is access to the kinds of materials you have at your places. I am oppressed by your requirement that I live a morose life in honor of your suffering.
Teaching four language courses and one out of field seminar is hard work. And for me, teaching language courses is like walking on knives, anyway — I never liked it; I am not from a national language department; I would never teach high school or ESL, and it is hard and it’s hard every day. I’ve done three hours of it now and it’s only lunch time; I’m doing another hour and a half after that and then I am grading papers for these four classes, yes.
On the question of whether I need to show yet more hard work, right here in the blogosphere, to prove to legislatures that I am working, all I have to say is that since you have suggested it, you can do it.
When you ask me to complain about my seminar, or about writing, and say I must do this in solidarity with you, I feel guilty about you. I feel guilty that I am still so much happier than you, and that I enjoy and do easily the things you find so difficult. I feel guilty not to identify more heavily with your plight, but to pine for it instead.
I do understand you are more important than I; that you are probably more kinds of minority that I; that you are more valuable than I am, even. Still I am unable to serve you and I certainly will not do it by emulating your suffering.
Hire servants. Enjoy your pain in style. Do whatever you want but do not try to browbeat me into suffering.
Axé.
coldhearted scientist وداد 
Boy I remember when I fell for all that crap, too. It took me a long time to understand that I was as important as anyone else.
I might be opposed to solidarity and sisterhood at this point.
I was thinking of the absolute obligation on my part to make it possible for others to reach their goals.
Ah. I’m ranting about misery loves company types.
Oh, yes, but they don’t bug me that much, because I am not dragged under by their moods.
I am in this context: “You already have so much, dear, things are already so easy for you, you should limit yourself so others can catch up” – and also “Stand in second place so people who count can catch up / can stay ahead.”
People who count: brunettes, men, women with disabilities, women who say they are suffering more than I, women who are more afraid of / angry with the men at their jobs than I am with those at mine, women who have had enough advantages so that they have a chance at a good career, if I give my handmaiden-like support.
I believe you could safely ignore all that.
Good, because I’ve got at least 25 years worth of anger. Also at: lesbians, because they are discriminated against and so need me to do things for them to make up for it; women who have had children late in life just so they could say they did, and now want special favors from me because of it; women with babies who also believe in doing mega service for university and want me to do that for them because they have babies and I ought to show solidarity with both them and the constituencies they usually serve, to my own detriment.
All of this stuff, I owe because I had a chance to do a good PhD and they did not (allegedly). And all of this is why I’d rather deal with “golden boys” who don’t need so much help from me or try so hard to disrupt my work.
Oh well, you don’t have to sacrifice yourself for anyone, any more than they do.
No, but I am reacting to decades of guilt tripping.
Have you ever thought of guilt tripping people back? I’m serious. Emphasize your sacrifices, not your success. I guarantee everyone will lay off you!
I’ve tried that several times over the years and it’s a bad idea. You enter their game, they step it up, it never ends. I’m finding it more effective just to decide they’re incompetent or are wankers!
Hmm. That is what I always hated about work. I couldn’t choose my companions.
I think it started before. I’m in rebellion against the idea that I have no right; you’re right about that really; it comes from the family too, having to take care of the ladies; I have huge resentment about that and I’d say it’s my primal moment, my main neurosis; struggle for existence with weak ladies who need my last drop of plasma, or something like that!