1978
I just had an argument/discussion with my mother about children. I feel so isolated. I want to call Connie; I want to sit down and write to Mom. I wish Jim were here, so we could talk about it. But I also want to be alone right now.
Is my increasing intellectual life causing me to turn inward, to shrink from contact with others? Certainly, I feel less comfortable with groups than before.
There are so many people I get along with, yet I have so few close friends. Help!
1998
What desires do I need to relinquish? Mainly, the desire for perfection without effort. At first, I wrote just “perfection”, but that’s not true. I don’t work hard enough to be a true perfectionist. I’m a hollow perfectionist, wanting success but unwilling to work for it.
Witness the book. I hope I can rescue it, even if it means work.
Comment 2023
Which book was this? It could be any of half a dozen I started and never finished. It amazes me that I eventually wrote two books, in a flurry of activity between 2006 and 2014.
2003
Savannah Amtrak station, waiting for train #98, now early three hours late. It was a good meeting, with quite a few former colleagues and - even better - former students, who are now teachers. I had quite a few excellent talks with good old friends, and am now determined to get back to fashion research and teaching. It’s bound to be different now; my experience in American Studies have altered my viewpoint, and the years have fogged my memory! So I have no choice but to start from scratch. Tomorrow is bound to be one odd day. I will have to work around my ETA, still unknown. Maybe around 9:30 am? And may I say thank heaven I didn’t stay with my original plan of returning on Tuesday, in time for my 9:30 class! Too crazy to contemplate. As it is, this will be inconvenient, but not fatal.
2023
These entries, written over a span of 25 years, encapsulate so much of my struggles to become the “professor” of my imagination. In retrospect, I needn’t have tried so hard or worried so much.
Comment 2023
Sorry this is so boring today. But some days are like that…
I’d argue that this type of blogging (or whatever it’s called now) builds that same kind of intimacy, sharing inferiority, and illuminating of details of life, as builds in “real life.”
How could the actual meat of life be boring? I don’t think it is.