Today was one of those days that should have been fabulously productive because I had nine hours sleep last night. Sure, I was productive in class, getting in my usual argument with the ridiculous Kurt. But that was the extent of my productivity. Not good.
Equally irritating today was the sudden realization that my prof thinks I’m hitting on him. Aside from the obvious reasons of why that’s ridiculous, it bugs me more that this wouldn’t be happening if I was a guy. I have a genuine academic interest in discussing my thesis topic, (a selfish genuine interest at that) and at remaining personable with my thesis advisor, man or woman. I would really love it if we could just leave the office politics out of it.
But fine. I’ll stick to simple emails and ultra professional chit chat about IR and resign myself to the fact that this is what I get for choosing a thesis advisor of the opposite sex who I knew from the get go was socially difficult.
Off I go now to eat a stunningly sophisticated dinner of grilled cheese sandwiches and wine (with a side of baby carrots) and to think about Rousseau’s misogynistic view points.