take the pills, ludo
I feel I should begin to be concerned about the incredible highs and lows I have been feeling lately. The unnatural love of the world that I felt for the world on Thursday instantly evaporated on Friday. I struggled through work on Friday, Had a lot to do, recreating an exam that my computer swallowed on Tuesday. I am having, and I should have admitted this a long time ago, h a really difficult time concentrating on work. I have a lot to do and don't seem to get nations done. I am now not sure it is just procrastination. I think I have to admit to long a history of depression, a state that seems so natural to me that I never thought there should be anything to be done about it. But the stakes are getting higher. I put a lot of work into somehow effortlessly ending up here in this good-ish job in this hellish town, and there seems no point in throwing it all away. I have to bio the bullet and do something about it.....
My friend Nelly who had some similar troubles in the past warned me that depression is not necessarily the pay off for the luxury of living in late modern society. So in my own slow-assed way I have come to this realisation. But realisation and actualization are different things aren't they.
I should be working on my lecture for my next trip to Wgtn. I want to keep on the sweet side of Prof. Janet so I can ask her for a relief teaching job if things get to bad up here. Its on a topic that I am very interested in and related to my research.... I hat that expression ...as if I own some kind of take on knowledge, I am beginning to feel the weight of 'research' round my neck these days in the hypercritical discourse of my institution and in particular the silver fox. Research research research the whip cracks over our heads, but you must teach, relentlessly teaching bowing to the many presumptions that students have about the role of the lecturer in higher education, in the learning process, in their degrees. My most evil student thought it was appropriate to track down her lecturer in the library where he was engaged for chrissakes in his research and demand a one on one consultation on the spot. Not make an appointment, not even leave a note on his door under his saying that he was in the library. But no stop everything and teach me personally, because it is entirely your fault that I do not understand rule ordering.
The same student thought that it was appropriate to track down the native speaker of the language of the data set and ask her to do the work for her. Even though said native speaker had no idea what an EXPERIENCER role is.
I better stop this rant and kick myself in the ass to go do something about it all, first of all the lecture, and then the other shit.
In related news I read in the paper this morning that a local sports journalist celebrity has owned up to depression. As a rugby reporter first and foremost it is his job to uphold the hegemonic masculinity of the rugby playing male, short hand for all that is good about men, testosterone, courage, homophobia and misogyny that the sport stands for, as a symbol of this nation. So he turned on John K, a popular big lug of a guy who published a book about his various mental health crises during his tenure as an all black. In today's piece which lauded the bravery oh to be brave in this country of owning up to his own depression the journalist only mentions his reaction to JK's admissions. 'I thought it was a silly thing to do', he remarks. This is left unexamined by himself or the interviewer perhaps not wishing to tarnish this new sort of bravery Deaker has found in himself. We should be question ing him on this. Why was it stupid that JK not only admitted to depression but wrote a book, or published some photographs to be more accurate in some attempt at both catharsis and attacking the stigma of mental health issues. Deaker, a particularly virulent conservative at times, he gives no personal response to the attack he made on JK and does not see him as some forerunner to his own issues and salvation through writing. Does he not realise that he is implicated in the difficulties of owning up to depression in his fervent devotion to the particular kind of masculinity that rugby journalism constitutes. Doesn't he see the hubris in it coming back to cripple him.
My friend Nelly who had some similar troubles in the past warned me that depression is not necessarily the pay off for the luxury of living in late modern society. So in my own slow-assed way I have come to this realisation. But realisation and actualization are different things aren't they.
I should be working on my lecture for my next trip to Wgtn. I want to keep on the sweet side of Prof. Janet so I can ask her for a relief teaching job if things get to bad up here. Its on a topic that I am very interested in and related to my research.... I hat that expression ...as if I own some kind of take on knowledge, I am beginning to feel the weight of 'research' round my neck these days in the hypercritical discourse of my institution and in particular the silver fox. Research research research the whip cracks over our heads, but you must teach, relentlessly teaching bowing to the many presumptions that students have about the role of the lecturer in higher education, in the learning process, in their degrees. My most evil student thought it was appropriate to track down her lecturer in the library where he was engaged for chrissakes in his research and demand a one on one consultation on the spot. Not make an appointment, not even leave a note on his door under his saying that he was in the library. But no stop everything and teach me personally, because it is entirely your fault that I do not understand rule ordering.
The same student thought that it was appropriate to track down the native speaker of the language of the data set and ask her to do the work for her. Even though said native speaker had no idea what an EXPERIENCER role is.
I better stop this rant and kick myself in the ass to go do something about it all, first of all the lecture, and then the other shit.
In related news I read in the paper this morning that a local sports journalist celebrity has owned up to depression. As a rugby reporter first and foremost it is his job to uphold the hegemonic masculinity of the rugby playing male, short hand for all that is good about men, testosterone, courage, homophobia and misogyny that the sport stands for, as a symbol of this nation. So he turned on John K, a popular big lug of a guy who published a book about his various mental health crises during his tenure as an all black. In today's piece which lauded the bravery oh to be brave in this country of owning up to his own depression the journalist only mentions his reaction to JK's admissions. 'I thought it was a silly thing to do', he remarks. This is left unexamined by himself or the interviewer perhaps not wishing to tarnish this new sort of bravery Deaker has found in himself. We should be question ing him on this. Why was it stupid that JK not only admitted to depression but wrote a book, or published some photographs to be more accurate in some attempt at both catharsis and attacking the stigma of mental health issues. Deaker, a particularly virulent conservative at times, he gives no personal response to the attack he made on JK and does not see him as some forerunner to his own issues and salvation through writing. Does he not realise that he is implicated in the difficulties of owning up to depression in his fervent devotion to the particular kind of masculinity that rugby journalism constitutes. Doesn't he see the hubris in it coming back to cripple him.
posted by Ludovic at 12:31 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home