writing

The Scamp and the Post She Never Wanted to Write

Posted on by erranteditor

I really had to psych myself up to write this post. I’ve been living it for almost 2 years, but I keep thinking that if I don’t write it down, then it won’t actually be true. But that’s just a silly little joke that your brain plays on you to deal with a nightmare.

I can still remember the exact moment I called my mom to complain about something stupid happening at the gym. She was distracted and worried and told me she’d been contacted by Matt’s boss, but was waiting for the police to come. Although we tried to pretend it wasn’t going to be as bad as we thought, it was as bad as we thought.

But it was. And I had to call Kelly to tell her that our trio was now a duo.

Matt was my older brother. I didn’t particularly understand him until I turned 18, and then he became one of my best friends. We shared secrets, podcasts, bad TV shows and the occasional edible. We laughed ridiculously hard at our own jokes, fought over who the cat loved more and showed how much we loved each other through mean jokes and memes. He was an amazing Uncle Matt, a good friend, and a brother I am proud of. I am so lucky that he came to see me in July and the last thing I did was hug him and tell him I loved him. My last text to him was a ridiculous comment about walking his cat on a leash, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Today marks the 2-year anniversary of the last time that I saw my brother alive. Before that visit, I hadn’t seen him in person since 2021. He’d slid into a deep depression and was embarrassed about the amount of weight he had gained. A couple of weeks before I got to California, he had finally been honest with my mom about what was going on and decided to make a change. I called him when I got to my parents’ house just to hear his voice. I told him he didn’t have to come see me (my mom was trying to convince him he needed to). We talked about an audiobook that he was listening to that he thought I would enjoy.

The next day, he showed up at my parents’ house to have lunch. I couldn’t believe how he looked. I knew it was bad, but hearing it and seeing it were two different things. When the parental units left, I downloaded WhatsApp onto his phone and told him that he couldn’t go months without texting.

He did make good on that promise. I still have the chats on my phone. About a month later, he was getting ready to move to Washington. He did what he always did and tried to do the drive all in one go. He fell asleep at the wheel, and the rest is history.

The next month was a blur. I dropped everything to fly back to California and then drove 12 hours to pick up Matt’s ashes and collect his things. The nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me came at the towing yard. Technically, they are not allowed to touch anything in the truck, so I was going to have to face the wreckage and get his things, but when we got to the yard, they had pulled everything out, so we didn’t have to. That simple act of kindness is something that I cannot really properly put into words.

When he picked up his ashes, I refused to let them out of my sight until we got home.

The month I spent in California was spent all day on the phone tracking down landlords, calling banks, and repeating the same story over and over until I just said the words without thinking. Although he would have hated it, we had a memorial. The number of people who came to share their stories of Matt was incredible. For someone who was basically a hermit, he had so many people who loved him. I saw people that I hadn’t seen in 20 years, and my mom heard stories that she probably didn’t need to know.

Matt wanted to be left in the woods to be eaten by a bear, but my mom said no, so we buried his ashes under a tree near the lake.

In true ironic fashion, the tree was cut down a week later.

I brought some of Matt’s ashes back to Scotland with me and tried to give him a little Viking funeral, complete with a boat and fire. It failed spectacularly, but I think Matt would have laughed at it.

I listen to Dungeon Crawler Carl almost every day because that was the last thing he was listening to. He was right, it is the type of book that I would enjoy. I taught his cat how to be social and adapt to a world without his boy. I learned to live with grief and the little piece of me that will always be missing.

I don’t know what I thought this post would be, but maybe it was just helpful to get it out of my head. I will end it with this:

Matt was forced to grow up in a house full of women. If we went to a museum or were on a tour, and the three girls went left, he went right.

He had terrible taste in TV shows. He had great taste in books and podcasts. For over 20 years, he never let me forget that I once asked how long a 24-hour fitness was open. After 18 years in the same routine, he was finally about to make a better life for himself.

Matthew Dean Wilder was an amazing big brother. We didn’t always get along or spend enough time together, but he was, and always will be, one of my favourite humans.

Matthew Dean Wilder

March 21, 1985-August 28, 2023

The Scamp Goes Home

Posted on by erranteditor

After my less-than-relaxing holiday in Majorca, I made my annual trip to California. I try to go to California every year in July, when the weather is warm and my workload is the lowest.

I needed this holiday. I was burned out at work and in desperate need of a tan. Little did I know that this trip home would be one of the most important of my life.

The sun and the heat were great. I was there for the 4th of July, which meant the annual parade in the town where my parents live. I helped my mom clean out her closets and found all kinds of photos from when I was a kid. I even crashed my parents’ anniversary dinner for the third year in a row.

One of the best things about being in California in July is that I also get to celebrate my nephew’s birthday. I make him a whatever kind of cake he wants, and we usually go to the aquarium so that he can see sharks and feed the birds.

I made time this trip to have breakfast with my first friend. We’ve known each other since we were 5, and it was nice to catch up on life and talk about all the people that we grew up with. Although my life took a very different path, she is still friends with a lot of the people I grew up with, so it is nice for me to hear about how all of them are doing.

The most meaningful part of this trip though, was the chance to have lunch with my brother. He had all but disappeared for years. He told my mom he was busy with work and wouldn’t come to holidays or be able to visit when I came to town. Before this visit, I hadn’t seen him in person in over 2 years. In reality, he was super depressed and had gained a lot of weight. He was ashamed and didn’t want anyone to know. A few months before I visited, he had finally come clean to my mom and was making changes. He was never very good at texting back, but he called me to chat about a book series he was reading that he thought I would like. I told him he didn’t have to come visit, but he decided to put his feelings aside and come see me for lunch.

I forced him to download Whatsapp in front of me and while my parents went to pick up lunch, I made him promise that he wouldn’t hide anymore. He had to text me and he couldn’t go a month without a text. We watched stupid videos and talked about books, and after lunch, I gave him a hug, told him I loved him and he left.

I didn’t know it at the time, but that would be the last time that I saw him. Less than a month later, I would be back in California so that I could collect his ashes and help my mom sort out all of the things that come with someone dying suddenly. I will forever be grateful that my last words to him out loud were that I loved him and was happy he made the drive to see me.

The Scamp Starts Again

Posted on by erranteditor

2022.

Or, 2020 part 2. It feels like forever ago since I was explaining Post Malone and BTS to my dad as we waited for the ball to drop on 2019 and start 2020. That was the first New Years I’d spent in California since I was 27. Little did I know that would be the last bit of normal that I would have for 2+ years. The pandemic kicked my butt so hard that I stopped writing for fun. I literally shelved the blog for the most part because there was no travelling and no fun in my life.

and there are only so many ways you can say you are depressed and that you hate life. I made a list of the 20 things I wanted to do in 2020, which became the 21 things I wanted to do in 2021, which is now going to become the 22 things I want to in 2022. I’m also bringing back the daily writing prompts as I think being told what to write will help me on the days that I just can’t get my creative juices flowing. I’m still putting together a list of things that I can actually do and not ignore for the year, so while I think about that, I will go with the daily prompt for today.

Although, I am not sure it is really something I wanted to have on the internet, but here goes:

Where were you last night when 2020 turned into 2021? Is that where you’d wanted to be?

I spent last night at home, alone. I watched bad movies and generally just moped about being alone. Everyone I would want to spend the night with are either in another country, isolating, or had to work and didn’t celebrate. If I had my way, I’d be in another country on an adventure. I booked a trip in November to Austria, Czechia and Slovakia, but they went back into lockdown the day before I was due to leave. I’d have loved to be able to do that trip over Christmas/New Years, but alas, the furthest I’ve travelled in two months is the airport to get to the vaccination centre.

If I couldn’t be on an adventure with my travel bestie, then being able to be out in the city centre surrounded by people, judging the bad outfits, drinking all of the rum would be perfect. The last time I did that was 2018. It was fun, I was with people I love and we did a lot of fun. That is what I miss. Having fun. Being around people. The pandemic is lonely. My life before the pandemic was lonely. PhD life is not for the faint of heart.

Now that a new year has started and I am dedicated to trying to be less of a sad sack. The new list will be made, and I tried online dating during the pandemic, so there will forthcoming stories about the disastrous dates that I went on. Hopefully the year has started off as well as can be for everyone and maybe, just maybe, 2022 won’t be part of a horrible Covid trilogy.

The Scamp Considers Her Words

Posted on by erranteditor

The other day I was talking to a cop who was guarding the scene of dead body, and when I said that I was sorry he had to be around death, he said to me:

‘That’s OK. I don’t think [its] any great loss to society.’

Now, I know this person is used to dealing with the scum of the earth, does not handle seeing death very well and has the emotional maturity and empathy of a dumpster but I still felt that I needed to address what he’d said. I was not offended by what he said because he’s an only child and is a bit naive to the seedier parts of life. So I told him:

‘I mean, some would have said that about my brother.’

My brother was an alcoholic….and had been since we were kids. He was a product of his genetics and a shitty environment that he wasn’t strong enough to get out of. To anyone on the outside looking in, his death probably wasn’t a great loss to society. But to my dad? To his brothers? His death was, and still is a great loss.

I wanted officer clueless to know that although his response was a coping mechanism to help him deal with the ugliness he sees on the job, he needed to remember that while he sees a druggie who overdosed in the woods, that person was someone’s son, that person was a friend, a brother, a cousin, a person. Officer Clueless did apologize, it’s not like he knew the details of my brother’s life, but I still felt that it was one of those dreaded ‘teachable moments’ that may come in handy for the future.

I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately, and after that conversation I was awake for awhile thinking about my brother, but also thinking about how easy it is for people to make statements like that. When did we forget to be compassionate? When did we forget that for some, addiction is a disease, not always a choice, and while, maybe not always pillars of the community, or always willing to get sober or stay sober, that these people deserve some dignity as well?

When did we become more interested in cancelling people than offering redemption or a chance for growth and understanding? When did we lose our sense of compassion? I’m not saying that there are some things that aren’t unforgivable. There are a lot of things that I would be reluctant to forgive, and there are people in this world that I think are too ignorant for an opportunity for redemption and understanding, but there are some people out there who don’t always get a fair shake, and it is all too easy for us to judge from the outside looking in.

So next time you find yourself in this type of position or encountering this type of person, try to be a bit more understanding and a little more compassionate….and because I have been on my soapbox enough, and I have a very early Zoom meeting, I’ll leave you with one of the only really good pictures of Eric Davis, because although he may not have always been a great member of society, he was a grandson, a son, a brother, a cousin, a friend, and a person.

The Scamp Says a Fond Farewell

Posted on by erranteditor

Last night, after five wonderful years together, I said my final goodbye to my trusty laptop. My mom and dad bought me the laptop before I moved back to Scotland fulltime (I think, although it might have been a bit before that, I can’t really remember). It is the third or fourth Dell that I’ve owned, and I’ve gotten my money’s worth out of all of them.

That laptop has been through a lot. Countless train rides, trips on the bus, flights. It has helped me mark hundreds of papers, answer who knows how many emails, and write quite a few posts on my way to 500. I’ve had many skype chats, instant message exchanges and therapy sessions using that laptop.

I wrote the entire first draft of my PhD on that laptop. I did 85% of the research for my thesis on that laptop.

It was a good piece of equipment. There were only two times I can think of when something went wrong with it, and one wasn’t until about a year ago when the battery quick and it could only be used if plugged in.

I am stuck in lockdown at the moment so I have yet to recycle it. I wish it could be fixed and then donated somewhere to help someone who needs one given the current lockdown situation, but unfortunately, it would cost more to repair then it is worth.

So for now, while everything is closed and I can’t leave my flat it is a very large paperweight collecting dust in the corner.

The Scamp Needs Reassurance

Posted on by erranteditor

I’ve already failed at the 20 things I want to do in 2020. I only managed one post last week instead of two. This puts me in a bad mood. I can’t keep to a simple plan.

Same with the diet right now. I’m terrified of what will happen if I step on a scale right now. I’m frustrated that I cannot resist falling into old bad habits.

I am feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders.

My PhD edits are due in a little over a month. At the moment I only have two chapters that are done. I spent three weeks in California and was able to write four chapters. I have feedback on two waiting for my attention. I have one chapter that needs to be written.

I am running out of time.

Last week I had a meeting with my supervisor about the feedback on my chapters. The feedback was good. It is constructive, it is detailed. It will hopefully get me on track to pass. When I told my supervisor that I was worried that I would not pass the corrections, instead of telling me that I would be okay and that I would pass, she told me that she cannot guarantee that I will pass. She did not want to give me any false promises and it was out of our hands. During the same conversation, she said if I pass the corrections then she has carried me through the PhD and deserves to be the one who hoods me at graduation.

Now, I want to qualify this. While I do feel a little undervalued and very much abandoned by my supervisors, I do love Joan. She has carried me through the process because I have given up. I spent four years being mucked about and because of that I almost failed. They told me the whole time they were not worried about me during the viva and no one expected me to have to rewrite the thesis. She is the only one who is helping me the corrections, the only one who was there on viva day and is really the only one who stood up for me during the process. I want her to be the one to give me my hood. I also know that she doesn’t want to lie to me, especially given what I went through in the viva, so I do appreciate that she is being honest with me.

But let me tell you how my brain works.

It does not work with a lack of reassurance that I will be successful if I make the corrections. It then immediately fixates on the fact that if I mess this up I don’t get the PhD. If I don’t have the PhD, then I am no longer eligible for my job. If I lose the job, I lose the visa. If I lose the visa, I get deported. If I go back to California, I will have no job, massive student loans and nowhere to live.

Then I have the constant barrage of questions about when I graduate when I’ll be done, why haven’t I finished. Not to mention the recrimination of not answering emails fast enough, not responding to things I cannot emotionally handle, and for not driving all over the state of California at Christmas to see people who really haven’t made that much effort to be my friend and support me.

I’ve just about had it. I cannot work without a little reassurance, without a little support, and right now, I am not getting it. I’m not exactly making it easy for people, but I do not want to have to do so much work to be supported. I also don’t want to hear everything is going to be okay, or that I am smart enough or that I know what I need to do. I need a hug. I need someone to take my debit card away so I can’t buy crap food to eat. I need someone to text me just to say hi how are you.

I need people to stop comparing their suffering to mine. I know that eventually, I will be okay and that there are a lot of people who are struggling a lot more than I am with a lot more difficult issues. Logically I know this. But I am tired and my brain does not work logically right now. I will be so happy when this PhD process is over and I can move on.

I saw a tweet the other day about whether or not a PhD was worth it. The woman who write felt like it wasn’t. Now that I have almost completed 2, I am starting to wonder if what she thinks is true.

I felt like I needed to put this out in the world so that I might be able to find the motivation to keep going.

But the next post. That one is going to be writing for fun….if I can remember what fun is.

The Scamp’s 20 things for 2020

Posted on by erranteditor

Last year I only published four posts. Four. In 365 days I only managed to write for fun (well okay, not fun, mostly for therapy) four times. Almost a month into 2020 and I am not really feeling the fun writing either. I am 10 posts away from 500 and have had the Scamp adventures as my constant companion for almost ten years. Sometimes I wonder if I have run out of things to say.

Sometimes I wonder if the PhD killed my love of writing. Today I had a fight with FedEx. That fight and the frustration that comes from a week-long back and forth battle with them led me to lash out at the people around me and picking fights with people for absolutely no reason. One of those people has been a toxic existence in my life for the last four years. The thing is, I wanted to get rid of him a long time ago but I wasn’t strong enough. It is not easy to get rid of a manipulative sociopath when you are already beaten down emotionally by life.

The edits for my thesis are due in one month. I’m not done. I’m getting there, but not close enough to keep me from stressing. The final draft is due to the examiners by the 13th of March, and I have that marked on my calendar as the day my life begins. It is has been five years that I have been chained to the PhD, three of those in less than ideal circumstances, and two of those feeling utterly worthless and broken by the system. But on the 13th of March, I get to start living again.

I’m supposed to be on a flight to China that day, but with the given health warning, I am not sure that is going to happen. Regardless, I get to live again.

So, because I have not done things outside the PhD in way too long, I have decided to bring back one of my favourite things: making a list of things that I would like to do in during the year.  I did this before my 30th birthday and it was a lot of fun. It also gave me great pleasure to do the things on the list and cross them off. I love do love crossing things off a list.

In no particular order:

  1. Visit 3 new countries
  2. Present at an academic conference
  3. Solo author a paper
  4. Lose the 20lbs I gained in the last year due to bad choices and stress
  5. Do yoga at least twice a week
  6. Write at least one new post a week that has nothing to do with work
  7. Make a dent in my student loan
  8. Finally get my UK driving license
  9. Participate in No Screen Sunday and stay off my phone and all social media on Sundays (starting today because I have not done it at all this month)
  10. Keep the toxic people from returning to my bubble
  11. Ride in a hot air balloon
  12. Go camping
  13. Celebrate passing my viva
  14. Improve my Spanish proficiency
  15. Meal prep to help balance my diet (and to help with number 4)
  16. Get on an academic committee
  17. Officially change my name on all my documents without crying
  18. Go a full 48 hours without being negative
  19. Don’t cancel plans with friends once I’ve made them (especially not the day of)
  20. Finally get my artwork from California to Scotland (although not through FedEx)

I’m hoping that by writing the list down I can stay accountable and actually complete these things. I also hope that it means that I will be a lot happier in 2020 than I was in 2019.

Call Me Dr Scamp

Posted on by erranteditor

That’s right. I am now a doctor. 4 years of blood, sweat and tears. 4 years of edits, research, interviews and data analysis. 4 years of projects, jobs, networking and conferences. 4 years of hard work. I’m not sure how I did it, but I survived the process and might just be a better person for it.

The viva was a gruelling process. I had gotten sick the week before and went through the viva with a fever and no voice. My examiners hated my thesis….and I am not exaggerating. They told me it reads like a jumbled, confused mess and it was hard to figure out what my original contribution to knowledge was. They did not understand the way I positioned my work in relation to the literature. They told me I have six months to rewrite it or they have the right to change their mind.

I am not ashamed to say that I cried in the middle of the viva. I was horribly ill and felt like crap, but I was also so upset that all of the things that the examiners hated about my thesis are the things I battled against with my supervisor….the same supervisor who was not in the room to hear that he had screwed up my work. The same supervisor who decided that I was not worth his time when I sent an email saying that I was upset that his lack of planning for the scheduling the viva could cost me my job. I was also very embarrassed. The examiners don’t know how badly I struggled. They don’t know how much of the thesis was dictated to me by said horrible supervisor. They only read the product of a less than stellar time….and the only name on the work is mine. I am the one who looks like I turned in horrible work. I am the one who now has to rewrite it in 6 months.

That’s not to say that the examiners were wrong though. That work is a jumbled mess that is a product of my experience. The feedback they gave me will make my thesis a better piece of work. It will also allow me the chance to discuss my work in the way that I want to. I have a better message and have really good things to say, and now I get to say them. My due date for resubmission is on my grammy’s birthday. I am taking that as a sign of good luck.

The only downside of this is that I still have a lot of work to do, more so now because I have a full-time job. I am having a hard time separating my bitterness about the last four years and the rewrite that I need to do. It has been more than a month and I have barely made any progress. That, in turn, is stressing me out….which is not helping the writing.

On the bright side, finishing the PhD means that I was able to book a ticket back to California for Christmas. I get to see my favourite people for a whole month. I am thinking that the change of environment and the time with my family will help me tackle the PhD as well. I have not seen my family in almost three years or been in California, so to say that I am excited about this is an understatement. I cannot wait to see how my parents have changed the cabin they now live in, I can’t wait to finally meet my nephew in person, and I cannot wait to sit around a table with my siblings while we play games, drink beer and tell each other to fuck off while we laugh so hard our sides hurt. I can’t wait to drive a car again.

I can’t wait for all the yummy Mexican food.

And mojo. Hopefully, I can find my mojo. I’m still looking for it.

The Scamp is an In Debt, Sexually Active, Tattooed, College Educated Rebel

Posted on by erranteditor

This rant brought to you by Lori Alexander’s post: Men Prefer Debt-Free Virgins without Tattoos Really Offensive Article. The title alone is the exact opposite of me, so I should have just kept scrolling.

But I didn’t.

Actually, the first thing I saw was a response that a fellow blogger wrote in response to the post by Mrs Alexander. The 25-year-old woman responded to the absurdity of thinking that propagates the blog post (Well Written Response). I agree with a lot of what Alyssa says. In 2018, it should be ‘my body, my choice’ and not ‘my body simply created to push out babies and meekly serve a man’.

I am a  Jewish woman (and not the best one at that) and have no battle with the Christian religion or those who follow any religion for that matter. My complaint is not about religion (although, I have a feeling that God wouldn’t have given women free will, a mouth and a brain if He didn’t want them to use it).

But Mrs Alexander, fuck your standards. You clearly do not understand women (Christan or otherwise). It is also extremely doubtful that you understand men. As you write:

There are many more reasons why Christian young women should carefully consider whether or not they go to college, especially if they want to be wives and mothers someday. Secular universities teach against the God of the Bible and His ways. It’s far from what God calls women to be and do: it teaches them to be independent, loud, and immodest instead of having meek and quiet spirits.

So, go to college and you can kiss motherhood goodbye? Really? Have you been out in society at all in the last oh 100 years? Women were not simply created to please men and the fact that you still think this way, and try and indoctrinate young impressionable women into this line of thinking is criminal. I’ve been to four universities, and not one of them taught me to be loud of immodest. They taught me to value education, to value learning experiences and gave me the chance to meet, interact with, and learn from all kinds of people. I am a better person because of the learning and growing that I did whilst attending university.

In 2018, I also fear the notion of having a ‘meek and quiet spirit’. The world isn’t perfect. Women (and men) should be able to disagree with what they see and hear and should be encouraged to have a conversation. They should not be silenced until they conform, and should be encouraged to be individuals. The only way that change can happen, and that some of the chaos of our current society can be calmed is if women (and men) are willing to speak up and work towards change.  I think Alyssa says it best when she writes:

Many of the brightest, most level-headed, youth in this country are girls. These young ladies are going to shape our world and help to make it a nurturing and supportive place to live. They’re going to find the cures to deadly diseases, make progressive changes in political offices, AND be the most badass mothers yet. And you want to deny them (and the world) the chance to do that? For what? So they can find a partner who sees them as “less-than” and good for nothing but giving birth? I don’t think so.

Don’t even get me started on the idea that women only get a job to pay off their debt and to make use of their degree. Not only do I know women who went to university and then decided to become stay at home moms until their kids are in school, but I know many women who busted their asses to become lawyers, doctors, teachers, and engineers and went to work in jobs they love not out of a sense of obligation, and not to pay off their debt, but because they love their work. Two of those women have kids, and one is currently pregnant. Shocking. Even more shocking, they met their husbands during college, or completed their degrees and pursued careers with the full support of their spouse. I even know a stay-at-home dad who loves his time at home with his kids (he also happens to be a Christan, but I promised to keep religion out of this). That being said, not everyone wants to go to college, and if a woman decides that it is not for her, as long as it is her choice, and she is happy with it, I have no problem with it.

Debt. No one (man or woman) wants to enter a marriage in debt. It is ridiculous to think otherwise. That being said, I can’t imagine many women who are excited to marry a man who has a lot of debt. That seems to be missing from Mrs Alexander’s backward and misguided blog post. I also have a problem with college debt being seen as bad debt. I would be more upset if the debt was from frivolous spending or poor money management skills rather than from furthering my education. Having recently paid off a student loan, I hated having the debt but loved the reason (and the university degree) that came with it.

Now let’s talk about sex. A woman who chooses to be sexually active is not a bad person. A sex worker is not a bad person. Women with free will and brains make choices for themselves. Now, I don’t want to slag off a woman who chooses to wait until she is married to have sex. I have some friends who are choosing to wait because it is important to them, and not because a man has told her she needs to. I happen to like sex (sorry mom), but I waited until I was in love (and in my 20s) before I lost my virginity. I don’t regret my choice at all, and any of the choices (minus one creep named Dan) that I have made since then. No one has ever asked me how many people I’ve slept with (and it is no one’s business).

As for the tattoos…..well, all 25 of them tell a story about who I am and where I’ve been so I regret nothing. I happen to think they make me more attractive. This one doesn’t bother me as much either because I know plenty of people, both male and female that aren’t into tattoos, but a majority of the people I have had the pleasure to meet do not have a problem with tattoos in the slightest. Even the good Jewish boy I almost married was okay with the tattoos that I had when we met (although, I probably would not have gotten any more out of respect for his religious preferences in regards to tattoos).

So, in a nutshell, I am Lori Alexander’s worst nightmare. I’m a 31-year-old single woman who does not currently want kids, has $21k of student loan debt to pay off, enjoys sex and collects tattoos the way most people collect art or stamps (or a number of other things that people like to collect). I’m also independent, living on my own and do not need a husband or my father to explain anything to me. I have no doubt that if I changed my mind about marriage one day I will find a really great guy who loves me, quirks and all.

So who are these men? Where are can I find (and avoid) them? Do I have to start wearing a scarlet letter so they can identify me or are my tattoos enough?

 

I cannot wait to read the comments that this post generates from my friends and family.

The Scamp Laughs

Posted on by erranteditor

I have been running around like a mad woman this week trying to get the chapter edits done and make some headway with my thesis. I’m not sure how much luck I am having, but I survived the week, so at least that is something.

All the running around means that I have been too lazy to cook. I stopped at Subway on my way home this week, and while I was waiting for my sandwich, the guy behind the counter asked me if I was headed to work or headed home from work (it was 4). I told him I left one job and was headed home to another one. This is the conversation that followed:

Him: another job?! What is it that you do?

Me: I work for a university, but I am headed home to work on my PhD.

Him: (sceptical) what are you working on?

Me: I study how students respond to the feedback they receive from lecturers and whether or not they learn from it.

Him: Feedback?

Me: Like the comments on an assignment, or if you write an essay and get notes written in the margin.

Him: You can study anything…

Me: I mean….there is a guy studying how takeaway trauma effects people. Like how anxious you get waiting for your pizza to arrive.

Him: See, that is a worthwhile study! That is important!

Me: ……….

That’s it. I quit! I’m done with academia. I had a really good giggle over that because it reminds me that my work, as important as I think it is, is really only important in my corner of the world.

I’m okay with that though. Even though I am massively behind schedule and freaking out about the future, I am happy that universities will fund almost anything so that I have a chance to try and help people in my little corner of the world. I also really needed the laugh.

Plus, the guy looked so serious that I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the takeaway trauma study was probably bullshit.