in which I labor under the delusion "everything is fine."

Work, for reasons I am not stupid enough to discuss on this blog, feels more like a life sentence than a job at present.

Working night shift is helping absolutely nothing, either. I'm back to living life through the prism of utter exhaustion, vampire sleeping habits on my days off, and supplicating to St. Jude with a special prayer asking for a city bus to hit me on the way to work, so I'll at least look as bad as I'm currently feeling.

My self-esteem having plunged to an all-time low, I have taken to the obnoxious habit of droning endlessly on about going to grad school again. I feel like some second tier rock star past her prime campaigning her publicist for a "come-back tour." Unfortunately, a return to academic ensconcement probably creates more problems than it solves, what with the economy spewing toxically bad consequences for university funding, and my general impression that no one, six years post divinity school, is going to remember me well enough to write me a recommendation. Not to mention my not-so-secret fear that the admissions committee won't just take one look at my application, titter politely into their sleeves, and move on to the next one after stamping a big red, "What the fuck was this one thinking?!" advisory on the top of my underwhelmingly pathetic little file.

The good news is that this much anxiety and depression about work usually diminishes my appetite, and so with any luck in a few months I'll look about as nonexistent and marginalized as I feel at present.