I wanna go home

This is stupid. I'm upset for stupid reasons, but I can't help it.

Why am I upset, you ask? I feel like I'm getting bullied by professors. Well, no, while that is true that's not the whole reason. I can't go to my grandparent's house for Easter. Again, partially true. I'm homesick -- definitely true, but I can't do anything about it and it's been that way for awhile.

I guess I should explain.

I'm working on this story about the relationship between theology and politics in Germany that contributed to the rise of the Nazi party. At least, that's what I thought it was about. It's morphing on me and I don't know what it will become. Anyway, this story was supposed to get published in March; I'm still working on it, and we are almost halfway through April. Clearly, there is something wrong here. The something wrong is that my editor didn't look at it for all of March because "oh, the title wasn't what I expected it to be, so I didn't know what it was." Sigh. So he finally read it and tossed it back to me with a "hurrmph." I'm instructed to get more sources, history, politics, current U.S. and historic Germany. Fine. Whatever.
I call a professor who happens (hurrah) to study religion and Germany. Perfect! I think. He'll be great, I think. Wrong. He SOUNDS like a New York nerd and says "I don't think that you know what you are talking about." No, genius, I don't, that's why I called you, the expert. I don't know enough about German history, that's why I called you. I would have "done my homework" as the j-teachers like to say, but that would require me taking a class on the relationship between the church and state in Germany. It's much easier to just call you, jerk. So just tell me what I need to know and we'll both get on with our lives.
After a half-hour of conversation, I think we are finally on the same page and I'm ready to give up. Then I get the email from professor number two: Law with an emphasis on church and state. After several paltry emails back and forth, I get this message: "I will only talk to you this Friday at 1:45" and gave me his office number. Great. Now, to get the darned interview, I have to decide whether or not I'll be going to my grandparents' house for Easter. I can't do both. My uncle would be picking me up here at about 11, and I couldn't make him wait for me; I don't even know when I'll get done with this guy. So I agree to the interview with him, the bully, so that I can be a 'good journalist' and possibly get this story over with.
Granted, I didn't know if I wanted to go to my grandparent's anyway, but now the choice was taken from me. Until now I had myself convinced that I could possibly work it out, even with my intense workload. But no. Now I'll be definitely be spending my Easter largely alone.

I really just want to go home. Just for a little while. But that is way out of the realm of possibility. Especially when we are so close to the school year being over. But I'm just so so so homesick.


Screw you, J-school, I want my life back. I want to have free will again. That'd be nice, wouldn't it?