Killian's Blog/Website/Whatever

One of my friends told me, back in our undergrad days, that I seemed to experience senioritis every single term (he also said I held a world record in existential crises. Both of his observations: likely true). Grad school has been different. There have been the tough weeks, the substantial relief come semester's end, self-doubt in droves, but none of the absolutely brain-damaging burn-out. Until, of course, now. It seems appropriate enough--I am, after all, in the final final final stretch of my MFA. Still sucks, though. It feels like a full-body mania. I'm jumpy and restless way down in my bones, and I'm also totally exhausted. I feel bored with my work at the same time that I feel obsessed with it. I feel like a mountain lion living in the body of a mouse: energy, furious energy everywhere, and the lack of ability to really do anything with it. I feel isolated, and I can't tell if it's just physical distance and convenience causing the problem (all of my Oxfr...

My brother and I are 5000 miles apart, but we're chillin' on Skype. He's playing Dark Souls II and I'm checking my email, and every once in a while we chat and I watch him fight a boss. We're just occupying the same little pocket of spacetime. It makes me happy.

An hour ago, I almost posted a (jokingly*) bitter statement on Twitter about my resentment of peers who have more than 35 pages of their thesis written. Not done, but written. Well, done, too. I have 32 pages written. Every term, I have re-written the novel that is now my thesis project. Every time, I end the semester with about 70 pages of work--so I know I am technically capable of doing it. It helps that I am the kind of person who does not miss deadlines. However, I am also a person who writes very slowly, and who started over again during her thesis semester, changing the setting of the story from town to city, and changing the POV characters from one woman and three men to three women (two WOC) and (currently) no men. So, big changes. Good changes. Heck, probably GREAT changes. But I'm still about 40 pages short of a thesis that is due, in its revised entirety, in two months. So, yeah, I was going to swear at my friends who are basically done. As everybody wh...

Since I started grad school, I sort of imagined I was doing something wrong. It was hard, but it wasn't as nightmarish as my peers described. Yeah, deadlines always got me antsy and angsty, but I met them, and I moved on. I improved with every packet--and by leaps and bounds with each passing term--but felt like I was getting to be pretty good! Surely, with how much I already have done, my thesis will be a snap! I will be praised endlessly by my advisor, but the praise will not be empty, it will be well-earned!  I actually said this to my advisor before the term started: "I want you to be tough. I can take it. I want to be great, so don't pull any punches." HA. Haha. Now that I am DOING MY THESIS, I realize that I am a big ol' fool. I feel the pain of every thesis student who has come before me. I feel the sting of my own words. I got my first packet back from my advisor. And the whole time I was reading the feedback, I was thinking: "Daaaaa...

recreational seaweed classification in Arch Cape, OR I've been back in the UK for about a week now. Actually, yeah, a full week. I'd say I'm over the jet lag, but I slept from about midnight to noon last night, so I won't say that. I'm working on my Masters thesis now. It will, hopefully, be a near-complete draft of my novel. I actually wrote 400 words today. That's a big deal, you know. I'm not a 1,000 word/day writer. I'd invite my close friends and family to question me about drug use if I ever go more than one day in a month wherein I write more than 1,000 words. I don't have much to talk about at present. Life is rough and tough and tiring and heavy, but I don't have it too bad. Being the middle of a particularly tough winter (though just grossly soggy here in Oxford, more than cold) in the states, I'd like to remind everyone that donating to charities is a really nice thing to do. And for those Xians in the house: Lent is comi...

Heading home to the ol' USA tomorrow. Really excited to eat a burrito that doesn't taste like poop. Really excited to see my beautiful homeland. My blood runs deep and damp and green and mountainous. Seaside, OR last January

I'm on season two, episode 19. No spoilers, in case you're as behind the TV time as I am. My notes on watching: 1. Season one was pretty boring. 2. Season two is...amazing? 3. I don't know why I like it. 4. Maybe it's the mystery tunes? The cheese? The puppydog-draw of Dale Cooper and his fellow law enforcers? 5. David Lynch is an endless cutie in his minor role. 6. It turns out that I love this show? I would not have said this through most of season one. But, um, I love it? 7. Now I get all the references they make in other TV I love (mostly cartoons: Adventure Time, Gravity Falls) 8. I love mysteries, and murder, and music with snapping. 9. So much cozy flannel, just like home. 10. I...don't understand my emotions. 11. What about the late 80's/early 90's made the FBI and the paranormal such attractive TV tropes? 12. I want to experience more David Lynch, but I am still positive that I never want to watch Inland Empire ever, ever aga...