Got an email from my advisor of the "where are ya, and what have you been doing?" sort.

Didn't respond for a few days, as I didn't quite know how to suavely word a scream of frustration. "Dear advisor, I can't pay my rent this month. The incompetent verbal abuser that I worked with last term (who happens to be your friend) got a new course to teach, while I (who took responsibility for the class, lectured, ensured the students didn't go mental and in return got the best student evaluations EVER) did not get a new TA contract. I don't know how to write my thesis and work a full time job, just to make ends meet (which is not quite such a concern now, as I am unemployed and pennyless). Any ideas? Love, me."

Yep, that's the kind of email everyone dreams of getting from their students. So, I put off sending it while waiting for the right wording to come to me. Then, feeling crappy and antisocial, I decided to torture myself by heading out to a big event. And lo and behold there she was. Sitting a few feet away from me, was my advisor with another grad student who had recently awkwardly asked me out (and who subsequently got shot down). Enter full blown anxiety attack. For the next twenty four hours.

After many tears, some anger and assorted morale boosting talks, I decided to do something about the crummyness of my situation. Talked to a friend who forced me to go to yoga class for the first time in 2 years. I think the degree of resistance that I put up is somehow inversely proportional to how badly I needed to go to a yoga class. After yoga, drooling over expensive shoes, caffeine and some food and excellent conversation, I feel so much better. I'm ready to make a plan: completion of thesis and then making sure my concerns about the MA experience are heard by my department.