4:31 p.m. - September 25, 2003
My (former) advisor at Stanford emailed me earlier and we've made plans to have breakfast tomorrow, over which we will discuss a wonderful opportunity. Wonderful opportunity. Why does this fill me with foreboding, that awkward juxtapositioning of one of the most brilliant minds in the field with me, who can barely hold his own it seems in one-on-one conversation. I've let him down and the handy, innate superskill of Run Away has never been much use around him and I'd like to offer platitudes to myself, feel flattered by his constant vigilance, but I can't give him what he wants. He wants me back and how can I face him, this failure of a graduate student, someone who literally was once toasted as the cream of the crop? How do I communicate that I'm no longer one of the best and for him to please simply move on and find another pet? I'll hear him out because I deserve that kick if simply to remind myself of how much I've fucked up.
I'll be home late tonight. I'm off to Berkeley.