The students are turning in papers next Friday. Ok, most of the students will probably be turning in papers next Friday (the ones who don't get an F: the paper was originally due on Oct. 7th and the professor kindly backed up the date). So, until then, I'm going to work on the paper that I still need to write. I figure this next week will give me enough time to have picked a topic and started writing. I won't be able to finish it in a week, but it will get me started enough that it will be finished before the end of the semester. I am very happy with this plan. I just really don't want to start it today, but I will.
Yesterday I told my advisor I was getting married. She was very excited for me and wants to see pictures ect. . . And we started talking about the financial aspect of things (grad school can be expensive) and I told her that that wasn't an issue anymore and that even when I finish, I really won't have to work unless I want to. She was very adamant that I still teach even if just at a community college. She said I am a natural teacher and I was born to teach and that it was kind of my responsibility to teach. She made me feel so good. She talked about how great my student evaluations are and how everyone I've TA'ed for will write me great references. Since I do love to teach, this is good news. And it was funny because I told her that while I enjoy research, I'm not a great writer. She said I do fine with the writing but my real talent is in the classroom.
Wes told me that he received a voicemail from Charley that sounded like he had been smoking for days. He said that a lot of Charley's conversations are actually sounding like he has smoked so much that he is losing his grip on reality. Quite possible and very sad. Glad I'm not there for that.
And the loop: Wes wants to have a baby. . . with me. Now, most of you know, I don't have even a little bit of desire to get pregnant and have a baby. It's like a parasitic alien growing in your body and then you have to push the thing out. Why would I want to do that? I told him him we would talk about it later. Like after I get back from my year long research trip to Russia. He says he just wants to see what a little Stacia would be like. Moody. Never leave her room except to go to the library (funny story: when I was 12 my parents grounded me FROM BOOKS! Yes, I was that big of a nerd that that was the only effective punishment. Except that I had hidden books under my mattress and would read after they went to bed). I just feel that my genes are defective enough that I don't want to pass them on to someone else (my grandma suffers from depression, one of my uncles suffers from depression, my mom suffers from depression, of the 10 grandkids, at least 5 of us have been diagnosed with some sort of depression or social anxiety. Do you see a pattern here?) But, when he mentioned it, I didn't feel upset or an absolute no. I felt very indifferent, so I guess that's a start in the right direction! It might end of being one of those things where if it happens, it happens, if it doesn't, it doesn't. We'll see. Since we live in two different states right now anyway, it doesn't really matter.
Ok, on to that paper.