What is happening?

Ever have one of those days when all the sudden the entire weight of everything in the world ever seems to be on you? You feel like you have so much in your head that it might explode, and you start thinking about 1000 things all at once. Then, before you can stop, you realize you’re starting to feel sick because it’s all building up inside of you.

That was my day today.

Something about everything just hit me all at once. Thesis things, comprehensive exams, class assignments, tutoring, teaching, grading, graduation, family visits, missing old friends, leaving new ones, moving, relationships, distance, nostalgia, dirty dishes, laundry, order and disorder.

Everything. Every single thing I have to think about, or worry about, or plan for, or prepare for, or accomplish just fell on me today, and I kind of freaked out. It was like everything just fell out of its place all at once a la wine shelf crashing guy:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IzpSaE6I6zY

Then, I made myself some tea and watched reruns of Too Cute! on Amazon, and I started to feel a little bit better. I still have 10000000 things floating around my head, but I hope I managed to put most of them back where they belong.

Happy Dilemma

I have quite a happy dilemma forming. I just received another fully funded offer from a PhD school. Wow, so many choices already.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Story of my Life

Except in graduate school, good grades and sleep don’t overlap. Nope, not at all. I’d love to be a nerd if it meant I could sleep.

A month later.

Phew, it’s been a month (to the day) since my last post. Craziness. So much has happened.

Fall arrived. The leaves changed. A hurricane attacked, and now…. a snowstorm.

It’s certainly been a whirlwind. My university shut down for a week, and several people are still without electricity. I feel lucky to have escaped the worst of the damage myself. Having grown up in Florida where hurricanes are pretty much par for the course, I was shocked to see such devastation from such a low-category storm. It was barely a hurricane, but the damage is unbelievable. My heart goes out to everyone who lost so much. It’s just unfathomable.

And, now with this snow storm…. goodness. I hope everyone stays well and safe and warm. As for me, well, a friend and I left class to find this:

So… what did we do? We had an impromptu snowball fight of course – just like the proud displaced southerners we are. And, I made a snow alligator on the trunk of her car. Then, a snowball smashed him. It was the perfect little break after a long, exhausting day. After missing a week of school and having no Internet connection to complete work or get in touch with my students and my professors, I feel more behind than I ever have. Deadlines are approaching so quickly. Thanksgiving is practically tomorrow, and I have no idea how I’m going to manage all of the work I have over the next few weeks. Application season is in full swing, and I just can’t even think straight.

Thank goodness for little moments – like pausing to have a snow fight after class – that remind to breathe, relax, and enjoy things.

I still know how to have fun. That’s encouraging.

 

Just do the dishes!

I ardently hate doing the dishes. I loathe it. I detest it. It’s seriously the worst housework ever. If I were smart, I would just wash my dishes every night like a normal person, but I abhor the task so much, I often let them pile up to disgusting amounts. Then, not only am I so grossed out by myself, but I also have even less of a desire to attack a monster pile of dirty dishes.

My kitchen recently reached an embarrassing level, yet I continued to put of this most hated of all chores – until tonight. I was supposed to be reading for classes, lesson planning, working on thesis things, fixing up my PhD applications, studying for the GRE Subject Exam, reviewing Latin, revising a paper for publication, or any other task from a long list of academic things. But, I just couldn’t take it anymore.

Sometimes, life in academia can be hard. I feel like I work and work and work and still get nowhere. I read and analyze and takes notes and still feel like I have no clear path forward for a paper or I stare and stare and stare and none of the words on the page in front of me seem to make sense. It can be frustrating sometimes – feeling like you are never making progress, like you are running after a target that only gets farther and farther away the faster you run.

Tonight, I just couldn’t run anymore. I needed a break, and since I felt a ridiculous need to justify my time spent away from schoolwork, I did the only other thing that desperately needs to be done – my dishes. And for once, I loved it. I turned on my 90s pop station on Pandora and washed every dish in my sink. And I felt great. I could watch the pile of dirty dishes shrink as I continued. I was getting somewhere and accomplishing something. Something tangible. I didn’t need to read or analyze the words on my computer; I just needed to sing along with the lyrics and scrub away. Then, when I finished I had a nice shiny kitchen to show for it.

Lesson for today: when all else fails, just do the dishes.

Again and again.

Once again, I’ve let my bog lapse off into nothingness for almost a whole month. Summer is just crazy for me; I don’t know how to handle having nothing to do. Rather than making me more productive, it just puts me in a rut where I don’t want to do anything. I need structure and schedule in my life. I spent the last four years of my undergrad completing what should take a person about 8 to 10 years. I lived for structure, pressure, deadlines. Now, I just sit around. I read a little here and there and get myself addicted to a new TV show every week.

It sounds blissful, but really, it sucks.

So, today, I decided to break out of that rut. I revised and submitted a paper for publication. Wooohooo. Only 3 more to go. I also made plans to begin a weekly study session with a friend of mine in order to prepare for the GRE subject exam in the Fall. Sounds exciting, right? Well, it is to me.

PhD applications, here I come!

Pedicures solve everything.

That’s basically what I learned today. I mean, really, what could possibly beat sitting in a really awkward massage chair while some woman grabs your feet causing you to burst out in completely inappropriate laughter due to the fact that feet have got to be the most ticklish part of the human body as she most-assuredly bad mouths your hygiene in a random foreign language to every other employee in the place? Nothing. That’s what. Am I right? You know I am.

I also learned that a night of Grey’s Anatomy (which may or may not have involved copious amounts of Meredith’s and Cristina’s favorite drink of choice) with a friend leads to some pretty fantastic revelations. First and foremost of those revelations, being, of course, the fact that said friend and I are clearly Cristina and Meredith (respectively) in another life. Clearly. If only I could borrow my own parallel-universe McDreamy, right? Then, I’d really have all the problems solved.

Something along these lines would be great.

In all honesty, though, I feel that sometimes life just makes no sense. For no reason. And I hate that about life. I really do. Maybe I just have exceptionally poor decision-making skills or perhaps just the most horrendous bad luck. I’d believe either of those as possible explanations. Post-Grey’s, pre-pedicures, my friend and I spent a good long while discussing … well, everything it seems, and I feel that the only conclusion I’ve managed to find in all of it is that I may be the third Twisted Sister. Grey’s fans, you know what I mean. It just seems that things really don’t make all that much sense ever, and for an over-thinker who spends 90% of her time analyzing everything (the other 10% sleeping), accepting that some things just make no sense and never will is incredibly difficult.

Now, I’m rambling again, and I suppose I have no major point here, aside from the fact that I fear stability, yet simultaneously I long for it. What does that even mean? I know, right? I think perhaps what it means in my case is that I’m afraid to want stability, or afraid to want anything, really. Or maybe it just means that graduate school is a horrible place. I just found out today, by the way, that my university apparently hosts a group solely dedicated to discussing how much being a grad student sucks? That’s just funny.

I feel like the previous paragraph has a very “I hate everything about graduate school”-vibe which is not really what I was shooting for or what I actually feel. I actually feel quite content with my experience in graduate school thus far. I’m willingly applying for four more years of it anyway, so it can’t be all that bad. Sometimes, I’m pretty sure I just don’t know how to exist without worrying about something.

I also discovered that bottling anger is a terrible thing to do. Shocking and ground-breaking discovery there, I know. But for me, it kind of was. I guess I’ve never really been an angry person though, so dealing with the emotion is totally foreign to me. Maybe I don’t recognize it when I do really feel it? And this is not to say that little things don’t anger me. Ask me about the United States Post Office any day, and you’ll hear anger. I promise, but I guess I just don’t get angry with people very often, especially not people I care about. It’s still kind of new territory for me. And new territory frightens me. And when I’m frightened, well… it never really ends well. I suppose releasing my anger has made me feel better, but in a way it also kind of makes me feel worse. I’m an enigma… or “I’m a hazard to myself”… yes, Pink was playing in the nail salon today. How’d you know?

Remember this jam?

I feel I’m talking in circles once again, and perhaps that’s really all said friend and I did for hours this morning. It wouldn’t surprise me. We did, at some point, however, come around to the topic of letting people go, and both decided that we are terrible at it. I won’t speak for her, but I, for one, suffer from crippling abandonment issues. I’m Meredith, after all, remember? And, no I wasn’t left or unloved as a child or anything, but I have watched a fair number of people I truly cared about walk out of my life without so much as a backward glance. I’m getting all psychoanalysis-y here, but I’m not really sure how else to explain it. I kind of live in fear of caring deeply about people, and I’m often horrified when I find someone who really does make me care for them. That sounds cold and awful, but I promise I’m not a terrible person. I’m just afraid to lose the people I care about, and I never feel comfortable accepting that someone is just gone, no matter how gone that person wants to be. Perhaps I’m just selfish, or maybe it’s just my subconscious yearning for stability once again. A point to ponder for days to come I suppose.

Anyway, I’m not sure where I go from here, and I clearly lost track of myself and my purpose in this post a while ago. I suppose I’ll leave you all with this:

I always did like O’Malley best.                         Too bad about that bus.

Sometimes it just doesn’t work out the way I want it to.

As I’m sure you’ve noticed, I’ve been a bit absent on here over the last few weeks. Before I dropped off the face of the earth, I had resolved to be more proactive about blogging – I promised myself I would write something (anything) every day. For a while, I was pretty good at following my resolution. Then, it happened. I skipped one day here, another there, and suddenly weeks had gone by and I’d barely posted anything. Now I’m sitting here feeling guilty about it again.

Sometimes I just feel a lot of pressure, pressure from all sides of my life, every aspect. Part of it comes from my choice to attend graduate school. Graduate school requires work. Work has deadlines, and deadlines create pressure. But, I really don’t think school pressure is my problem. I’ve felt school pressure since I entered kindergarten. I think it’s been more personal pressure that’s been bogging me down lately. What do I mean by personal pressure? I mean the pressure I put on myself for no reason, the anxiety I create because I don’t know how to feel secure in myself or my abilities, the need I have to constantly prove myself (again, for no real reason).

I’ve been wondering a lot lately if all this anxiety may come from the fact that I feel like so few people in my life understand what it is I have chosen to do. This life I’ve decided to lead is not normal, not really. Is it just a way of postponing the real world? Maybe. Is it a way to escape the job market? Perhaps. Is it something that requires all I have and more? Definitely. Sometimes I wonder if I’m just burning out, but then things like the conference I attended and presented a paper at this weekend confirm my desire to be here and remind me why I ever thought this was a good idea. Maybe all I need is to be surrounded by people as crazy as I am more often.

I’ve also been wondering if it may just be the town I live in that has me bogged down lately. I have very little ability to go places, to get out of my house and just enjoy small adventures. I have no car, and I don’t trust the bus system near me. It’s not always safe to walk around at night, and I feel trapped sometimes. Then, when I start to feel trapped, I start to imagine my life in different places, places I may want to move to while I pursue a PhD. And, immediately when those three little letters cross my mind, anxiety hits full force. I can’t help it. Perhaps, this anxiety is residual pain from my last experience with graduate school applications which, although it ended on a positive note, still haunts me. I know it’s silly, but sometimes it’s just hard to let go.

About a week ago, I was able to spend some time with my family. We drove all around the northeast and midwest, and I left school completely behind. It was wonderful, five little days of bliss, but it wasn’t reality. And, it certainly wasn’t sustainable. Sustainable. That’s an interesting word, and it brings up a lot of memories in my head. My ex-boyfriend used to talk about sustainability all the time. It drove me a little bit crazy because I believed anything was sustainable if I worked hard enough at it; if I wanted something to continue, I just made decisions that would enable it to continue. Maybe that’s naive. Maybe it’s optimistic. He used to tell me it was silly not to think of the sustainability principle, that to believe things would work out on their own was setting myself up for disappointment in a way. We never really agreed on this point, but lately I’ve been thinking about it more and more. I’ve been wondering if my path is sustainable, if I can keep doing what I’m doing, trusting in the world to help me along and believing I can make things happen for myself, and get where I want to be. Maybe I can. I used to believe I could, but what if I can’t?

What if I’m just incredibly good at feigning competence? What if I’m just a great actress? What if someone finds me out?

In the past, at times like this, I would run across the courtyard, drink some tea with my best friend, and feel better. Sadly, as much as I might want to, I can’t run to Florida in 5 minutes. I’ve had to learn to live without my support system, a support system I thought I’d never be able to leave behind. Saying goodbye to my supports was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and sometimes I feel like I’m constantly doing it over and over. I know that things can never be like they were, but sometimes I just wish they could. This past summer was one of the best times of my entire life. For several months, I simply felt happy, all the time, despite all the craziness going on around me. I felt like nothing could bring me down, like I could conquer anything with my support system at my side. Then, I began to lose them one by one. I moved. Relationships changed; others ended. I felt like my life was completely out of my control, and I’ve been fighting to regain that stability ever since.

In my class tonight, I heard a presentation about the destabilization of centers in Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde. At the time, I was merely intrigued by the interesting scholarly implications, but now that I think about it, I’ve been fighting my own battle to regain stability for a while now. Like Criseyde, when I felt overwhelmed I ran to where I felt safest only to find that even there I was not entirely safe, that even that seemingly stable structure could also collapse.

I guess I’ve just been feeling tired lately, tired of searching for happiness and not finding it where I thought it would be; tired of looking for security, and feeling abandoned again and again; and tired of wanting my life to be something it isn’t and may never be. It’s exhausting living like that, and I’ve decided I don’t want to do it anymore.

I want to post consistently again. I want to use this forum for what it’s always been – an outlet. I want to make the changes I’m scared to make and try the things that terrify me. I want to let go of feeling like I need validation and security from others.

I want to trust myself again.

Anam Cara.

I’m still horrendously behind on work (How does this happen so early in the semester?) and feeling a little like my brain is made of mush (Thank you, composition theory, but don’t think you’re off the hook Ulysses!).

So, I am going to share with you two articles I’ve read recently.

The first is a cool, little piece I found through Tania of What Would a Nerd Wear, one of my favorite fashion blogs. It relates the experience of a student in graduate school to that of a designer on Project Runway. It seems especially relevant right now as I ponder my place as a graduate student and my uncertain future in academia once again (I know. I know, I’m a huge bundle of new thoughts….) You can read it here.

The second is a wonderful piece I just found through a friend. It talks about the power and importance of female friendships. I am happy to report that after reading it I can call myself one of the lucky ones. You’ll understand if you read the article.

Wesley the Owl

 

I know I promised a post about my Orlando revelations; however, as I sat down to write it, I realized I’m not quite ready to put my thoughts into words just yet. In place of those revelations, I will give you my thoughts on a book I just finished reading. It’s called Wesley the Owl, and one of my very good new, New Jersey friends gave it to me for Christmas. I have a thing for owls; they’re kind of my thing. And, Wesley’s story (as told by his surrogate mother, Stacey O’Brien) was an amazing read. Aside from the myriad of facts about owls I learned, some of Stacey’s words and own personal experiences truly hit home for me. I thought I’d share my top three:

1. “So that was the key. You had to marry someone just as weird as you were. Hmm.” (132)

Stacey’s exploits into love and friendship remind me of my own. I can’t even begin to count the number of times I’ve felt that friends and people I love simply do not understand my lifestyle and my dedication to academics. I’ve been the weird book girl, the quiet one, the one who stays in the library until they kick me out rather than going out to the clubs and bars, and the one “avoiding real life” in graduate school. Needless to say, it’s taken a toll on some of my relationships, yet, like Stacey, it makes me appreciate those who can (or at least want and try) to understand me.

2. “Even though I’d been trained to exclude thoughts about spirits and unquantifiable, immeasurable feelings that could taint scientific conclusions, Wesley’s presence in my life influenced my thinking. Now I see that to exclude a certain kind of idea is itself  creating a bias. What if the truth screams as loudly as a male barn owl crying for a mate, and we miss it because we have not allowed ourselves to listen to the channel it’s on – or we’ve tuned it out?” (177)

Although I am by no means a scientist like Stacey, I still struggle with a fear that I am constantly misreading the signs in my life. I believe that life presents us with little (or big) tools, or signs, that help us uncover our reason for being alive, our purpose. I believe the signs will continue to come for as long as we need them until we can decode them, but I still worry that I will never get it right, that I will spend my life chasing signs down the wrong roads, that I will misread, misunderstand. I’ve struggled a lot lately with feeling like I am misreading my own feelings. I’ve felt betrayed and befuddled by them more than usual, and it’s been tough on my spirit to keep going even when I feel like I’m clawing my way through a forest only to end up back where I began. Sometimes I wish I could sneak a peek at the picture the puzzle of my life is forming, just so I can know that I am headed in the right direction, just so that I know the things I want and need will be fulfilled, just so I can understand it all.

3. Guilt is just anger turned inward – anger at our helplessness in being unable to change the inevitable. But we are not gods…. My sister and I made a vow when I was eight years old. We would live our lives not by staying in the shallow, safer waters, but by wading as deep into the river of life as possible, no matter how dangerous the current. We knew that we had only one chance at this life and we decided to try to make every moment matter.” (223)

Again, Stacey seems to put my very thoughts into words. It’s taken me way past the age of eight to commit to a life in the deepest of life’s waters, but I agree that this is the only way to make life worthwhile. If we won’t go after what we want with full force, chase happiness with all we have, why bother doing anything?

So, if you are looking for a delightful memoir or are new to enjoying non-fiction, I suggest you check out Wesley the Owl. Wesley’s story and Stacey’s reflections spoke to me. I hope they speak to you as well.