Academia in the Pandemic

Too much has happened since I last wrote. The world has been turned upside down and life feels like we are living on Mars since the world shut down. In short, I've switched graduate programs, so in other words, none of the classes I am taking this semester don't count. ALSO, I have to take Spanish, again. It's been five years, and it won't even count for graduation hours.

School has been busy. I finished a 20 page rough draft and turned it in for feed back, but it needs to be a little longer still. Now, I have to work on paper two, but I have no motivation to work on it even though it's due next week--motivation will hit next Monday for sure.

I'm honestly too lazy to write. My mental health is out of the window, and I hate sitting in my apartment writing, but I can't leave because all of the parks and cafes are closed.

aaaaAAAaAAh.

How can I want to drop out already?

I don't want to drop out of school. The title is misleading. I want to drop out of my program. My initial thought process when I was choosing a graduate program was that I didn't want to be boxed into one thing. English is great and there are three big camps that fall into it: English literature, Composition and Rhetoric, and Creative Writing (which arguably could be its own entity). I chose neither of the three even though my undergraduate degree is in English. Instead, I chose Liberal Studies because I thought it was giving me the freedom to study what I wanted and what I am interested and I honestly wasn't sure if I wanted to pursue a Master's in English.

Now, I am only in week 6 of school--of the program--of the semester--of grad school--who is to say that I am not writing it off too quickly? I think I am, but I think I needed this to realize that my home is back with all the nerds in the English camp. I am so uninterested in my classes, particularly one, and it just doesn't make my heart happy or make me want to learn the way my English classes do.  I feel like my skillset is not being utilized in what I am doing right now. I am reading and writing about other civilizations and cultures that I am not interested and this I not what I want to study in the long run. My skillset could be used somewhere else where it is useful and where I can showcase my talent and hone my skills.

How did I realize this? I desperately want to drop my seminar that I am taking. The content bores me, it doesn't challenge me the way I want to be challenged, even though I have an A in the class right now, I am struggling--it takes me so much longer than necessary to do the work that is needed to be done, and frankly, I don't want to do the work. This seminar is a core class needed for my program though, if I drop it, I'll have to take it again in the future, albeit, different (hopefully) content--but even then, I don't want to take a class about Early Civilizations and evaluate Italian art--it is jut not what I want to study--and that's when I realized, I am in the wrong program!

In a way, I am annoyed with myself for giving myself the trouble of having to switch programs. Now I have to go to the advisor of the new program and take to them about it and then go to the graduate school dean and complete paperwork. It's easier in a sense because I am switching programs within my school and it's my first semester (better now than later because that would really screw things up) instead of starting over at a new program at a new school where the credits I am taking now would be worthless. Let me just say this, either way if I switch, I am still going to drop the class.

The plan is now to meet with the advisor for the Composition and Rhetoric program and hopefully all will go well.

All's well that ends well

Graduate school, might I say is harder than I expected, in different ways than I thought it was. Now, I never underestimated the work that comes with the daunting phrase "grad school" because I was well aware that the course work was heavy. That being said, the "hard" is different in the way that it's not was I was expecting.

To articulate this thought... I knew there was going to be tons of reading each week for each class, but the articles are so dense that I am reading that I have to read them several times before I can understand what is trying to be said. Another thing, is I know participation is required in every class, but there is so much more that is expected of a graduate student. You have to talk more, you have to be leading class discussions and you have to have an opinion about everything on your subjective feelings or analysis of something--that you may not even care about! I just sometimes am not quick enough on my feet to blurt out everything that I am thinking at the moment--I'll remember or come up with something neat to say when the class is long over.

 I feel as if it's my imposter syndrome coming to get me. These tiny thoughts come to creep in my mind, "you don't deserve to be here" or "you were accepted into this program by mistake"  and they come on a daily basis at that. However, I have come to the realization or rather--the acceptance that I am not an expert on anything--and that's okay! I feel like there is this higher standard that people put graduate students on--at least that is how I felt as an undergrad with grads in my classes, and I feel the same way now. Like I said, the imposter syndrome. I've narrowed this feeling to the fact that for some reason, it was my belief that once someone has obtained their bachelor's, they should be all knowing, therefore smarter than those who have not earned for their degree. However, this proves not to be true as I am just as lost as I was before. No matter-- because all I can do is try my best, which is what I have been doing thus far in the semester because at the moment I have all A's and we shall try to keep it this way--especially since the ideology of "C's get degrees" does not exist in grad school.

Let's forget about all of these unpleasantries that I brought up. Onto bigger and better news! I am employed now! My birthday wish came true--if anyone--doubtfully has read in a post or two below. I'm a graduate assistant for the office of student engagement. I will say, I wish it was a teaching position, but there were none open in the departments that I am qualified for. Nonetheless, I start next week, and I am so very excited because my boss seems amazing and also, like me, is from Texas--which is something I don't try to advertise anymore.

It's 1158pm and it's "supposed" to snow tomorrow. I, like the rest of the student body, is hoping that campus will be closed tomorrow. I, myself, especially since I have only gotten half way through my readings for my seminar, that I will have to read regardless of class being cancelled as I have to write a 1000 word response. Ah fun.

New Year, New City, New Me

The time has come, it's now 2020 and I moved to the Oklahoma City area to start graduate school. I am equally excited and nervous about starting life in a new city. I've already done it 2 times in the past decade, however, so I am not sure why I am so nervous.

I moved to Arkansas for college for the sole purpose of starting over fresh and not knowing the soul. For some reason, it felt more exciting. Maybe because at the time I was a young, eager 18 year old about to embark on this "college experience" in a small college town. I still have the same feelings of uncertainties and worries of living in a new city. However, I am lucky that the area I live in is rather metropolitan instead of rural.

The nerves are probably stemming from the fact that I am moved here and will be living here for the next two years for graduate school--a thought that still scares me because I still have no idea what I will do after, let alone if this is the right choice. I'm also scared because I am afraid that I'll be lonely. For me, it feels like as I've gotten older it's harder to make friends casually. I should probably get a hobby, or something.

However, I am glad that I am in an apartment instead of a musty, old, shoe box dorm. I am in my very own apartment--well, student apartment, but it still counts. I will have to post pictures once I get everything settled, after all I've only been here two days.

Right now, I am job hunting for a graduate assitanship and I've applied for two, and classes start today. AM I NERVOUS OR WHAT?

Nobody likes you when you're 23...

So I've heard anyways.

I had a very low-key birthday this weekend. For one thing, I moved to a new city not knowing a soul, so there are no friends in that department and I wasn't willing to drive all the way to my parent's house.

I ventured out in the city and went to Trader Joe's, in which, the parking was insane. I think I circled the lot 5 times before stealing someone's parking spot that they were waiting for. I wasted an hour of my life, only to find out that what I was looking for (the midsummer's night cream) wasn't even in stock. After, I went toward the boujee place near Lake Hefner where rich people golf and go sailing. I took a book and my journal and spend the afternoon (the windy afternoon) by the lake.

When I woke up this morning, I felt no different than I did from yesterday. Maybe this is what they mean when they say age is just a number. If anything, I think I see more prominent wrinkles on my forehead, which upsets me more than words. Is it terrible to say that even if I was surrounded by friends and family, I wanted to spend the day alone. Being alone sometimes is very therapeutic in a sense of having your own independence. I'm able to have my own thoughts and do things on my own time.

I think as I get older, I don't care so much for birthday cakes, wishes and presents. Is this a sign that you are growing up? Or are people always excited for their birthdays? Maybe I am just growing into an old cynical lady early. If anything, since I am not blowing out any birthday candles tonight, my birthday wish is... wait, can I say it?

2020--New Year

When I first saw this sculpture, I studied the movements and cracks of the hundreds of disfigured bodies that transformed into each other and into different objects becoming something else entirely. Sometimes I feel as if I am constantly turning into different things, or people and personas, and twisting and consistently bending to sometimes suit those around me, or changing myself when I realize I don’t like who I am anymore, which leads to me crack and become a million different people who are incomplete—not knowing if the cracks make me stronger or more vulnerable. I want to take cheap putty and fill these cracks to make myself whole, shiny and new again since I have chipped away pieces of myself for so long trying to create something new. But I’ve come to realize that this power of transformation and renewal in life is what makes up the complexity of the human soul. I have to be okay with the cracks and all of the people I have been in the past and accept that they are a part of me and who I have been. So, I must continue to grow and transform which means I may crack from time to time for my own self actualization in order to become the person I want to be instead of running away from myself when I decide not to like who I am in the moment. 

I can't say I am one of those people who wait all year long in order to start new again--for a fresh start. If someone really wants change, they will change. I think I try to believe in that, but here I am, vowing to change this new year--this new decade, when I could have changed 3 years ago, or 7 months ago. The new decade is kick starting this change, or the change I want. 

When I look in the mirror, I don't like who I see--not in a sense of physical beauty. This is not a situation where I wish I looked different or I don't feel pretty enough--that is another case entirely. This look in the mirror is more of a feeling where I don't like the person I am, who I have become over the past several years that I have not come to terms with. I think I have made very questionable choices for the past decade. At the beginning of the decade I was 12 though--so maybe I should start within the last several years--when I started college. These questionable choices stemmed from me chipping away at myself, molding myself, melting myself down to fit a certain persona--a certain role amongst people. I like to tell myself that I am not a people pleaser, but that sure sounds like I am one. I sometimes make myself feel small around other people in order to make myself feel like I belong. In reality, I should have been just me the entire time. 

I am on the brink of 23. I heard being 23 sucks. No one likes you when you're 23. And yet, here I am about to turn 23, tomorrow. That's the thing about January birthdays, or at least how I feel about them anyways--you get to start fresh with the new year, but also a new you as you turn a year older. Maybe this year, will be my year.