Killian's Blog/Website/Whatever

(guest post by Daniel) "Yes, Ms. Fitzgerald*, I  quite  agree, it is a  lovely  day for a tea party." "You look positively  famished . Another scone?" "Beg pardon? My mental state? Don't be silly, I'm  fine . Now where did  Wilson  get to..." *Flannery, AKA F. Cat Fitzgerald, AKA The Dowager Countess Snugglepaws

Alright. It's done. I'm home*, I'm doing laundry, I ate a hearty breakfast. The only thing non-pajama-wearing on today's agenda: Powell's. I will leave there many dollars poorer and one well-stocked reading list richer. Then, I'll return to the Casa de Czuba and work. I will work on my job, I will work on my homework, and I will work on packing (my life is one suitcase after another). The last ten days were so absolutely, incredibly odd. For every evening spent socializing and stepping out of my comfort zone, there was an hour of sleep and relaxation lost;  for every motivating craft talk and amazing reading, there was a quiet, growing panic working its way into the back of my mind; for every minute of blissful removal from real life, there was (rather, is ) the consequence of returning to real life after totally ignoring it for ten long days. Basically, f or every positive, there was a negative.** But I learned much, I ate relatively well, and I slept littl...

This residency thing is insane. I'm still trying to decipher exactly how I feel about it, but I think a good estimate is that it is proving equal parts useful, interesting, exhausting, and trying. This is exactly what I've needed in the following ways: 1. I'm getting my butt kicked by genius faculty. I can't believe I can only pick four of them to work with directly over the next two years. Then again, I get four of them.  (this place, man. everything's a dichotomy) 2. I've met a ton of people, and a few of us became instant bros. I've also reconnected with a few old bros. 3. It's got me stoked to get to work. Stoooooooked. This is less than ideal for me in the following ways: 1. I never seem to get enough sleep, so I just somnambulate around, making small talk that may or may not make sense. 2. I'm homesick. I miss my cat, my room, my beau. I miss my shower, my desk, my closet. I am tired of looking like a bum who wears the same clothes eve...

Guys. I'm totally losing it. This living-in-limbo thing is so distracting that I can't focus on any task (except, you know, stupid things like dishes) for more than one minute. Facebook is boring and no one ever updates, AND YET: I have checked it--and Twitter--like 10,000,000,000,000 times today. I opened about 7 tabs of letting agencies/craigslist equivalents and then looked at flats for about three hours. I have already looked at all of these flats. I have looked at some of them about 5 days in a row. I can't stop. My mouse moves of its own will!--just clickin' on stuff, showin' me homes we can't have. It's insane behavior, much like when we decided it was time to get a cat and I spent 3 solid weeks scouring Petfinder. Obviously, it's going to work out. We'll find a place. It'll be nice--or, at the very least,  inhabitable. It'll have things like "windows" and a "bathroom". It'll likely be near the City Centre* an...