Jul. 14th, 2019

caitri: (Books)
Heading to a conference tomorrow. This is a big international one that's in North America every two years and then elsewhere the other years. The last time I went was 2015, where I was in a very different place: I was a full-time grad student again and getting lots of rejections for jobs, publications, and so on. This time I'll be a tenured prof at a top institution with an armload of bona fides. I'm chairing two panels I organized, and will be guest-chairing a third since a colleague injured her back and is delaying her travel. So I'll have plenty to do, and already have several additional meetings with colleagues lined up. Which is all to say--I'm anxious because I won't have "friends" there, but I WILL have colleagues and things to occupy me, so hopefully my introvert self can manage.

(And then there's introversion, social anxiety, impostor syndrome, and just me being a spaz, basically.)

The thing is, I often feel ambivalent about the moves I've made into book history and bibliography. Like, I know my shit, and I do love rabble-rousing (my GODS is it a white dude field that needs disruption), but I feel so much more at home in my popular culture studies where people are fellow geeks, and above all, NICE. 

But I'm also just tired; I'll be at this conference all week, and then I'll be back at work for a week, and then I'm going to spend a week on actualfacts vacation where gods all willing I will only read for pleasure, sleep, and eat. So. This is a plan. I can do it.

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