My Mind is a Twisted Place

After some reflecting, I have decided that last night was a strange night. I do not know if it was something I ate- or didn't eat, as the fact may be- or is my mind just decided that it was time to Hash Shit Out and therefore it decided that torturing me was not completely out the realm of things it likes to do.

That said, it was not really that bad. I had the strangest dream, but I think I have successfully resolved that. The only problem is that I thought it was resolved before. Maybe it has been resolved all along, and I am just now realizing it. Who knows. The subconscious is a strange, strange thing.

The other mental roundabout of the evening was the grad school debate. Yes, it rages on. I realized this summer that it was assumed- even by myself- that I was going to grad school for sociology, and I am not sure that that is what I really want to do. I think it's interesting and I love it, but I'm not sure that pursuing it academically is for me. Yes, this DOES plunge my future into abject poverty, but let's face it: I've been heading the dirt poor route for some time now. Part of the problem with this is that it seems like a waste: I have struggled and worked hard to go above and beyond and sociology, and I'm not sure it's what I want to do with the rest of my life. I like many aspects of it, but I am not sure that I have what it takes to excel in the field. I am afraid that I would be working hard and striving all the time, and one thing doing this project this semester has taught me is that I can't do this all the time. I just can't. I am not sure that I am cut out for it.

And the more I think about it, the more I think I want to go for my MFA in creative writing. This opens up a whole other flow of thoughts of inadequacy and not being good enough. I know, I sound like I'm begging for sympathy and pitying myself like crazy, but it's actually not that at all. Or, well, not entirely. I am trying to be objective about it and recognize my own shortcomings, and to be realistic. My writing style isn't really what grad schools are looking for, I think. I think they want a more modernist approach, and I quite honestly think that that has its merits in some ways, but for the most part is absolute crap. It works for some people, but not for me. So, if my writing is even good, I am not sure that I would be able to get into an MFA program with it. I'm not even sure I'd be able to put together a decent portfolio in time to apply. But assuming that I get my act together and apply to places I want to go, I can't shake the feeling that my odds of getting in are slim to none. Perhaps this is my pessimism at its strongest.

I started considering this dilemma last night while at the pub. If I get the MFA, I want to be a writing professor. I have realized that, I have recognized it, and now I want it. If I don't get the MFA, I think I may want to go into publishing. But I could also go after the sociology PhD and teach students how to write soc papers, a skill which I am learning is both difficult and elusive, and no one seems to be able to find a consensus on it.

What I might end up doing, to both my and my parent's chagrin, is applying for both. Applying to like five soc programs and five MFA ones, and letting the dice fall where they may. The compromise in this sounds delightful, but part of me wonders if its actually a smart path or not.

Clearly, I label my own lacking confidence as a strict eye to what I consider realistic and unrealistic. This could be either good or bad.

And Three Weeks Later...

Let's not talk about the fail inherent in my lack of updating, mmkay? For the record, I knew this would happen. I get so distracted. Blogging is definitely low on the list of things I have to keep up with: it makes me sad, because I would like to have to time to do this, but I am so busy all the time. No joke. And that is not going to change anytime soon.

I have to admit, I've been preoccupied by how busy things have been lately. I spent the weekend in Dublin for the first time this weekend since the second week I was here. It was nice: we celebrated many birthdays! Kristin's sister threw her a surprise party from the States, and we all had a blast. I went to my first Irish club, which was fantastic. Then Kayla made AMAZING chili for Jackie's birthday. I got a decent amount of work done, and tried Irish ice cream (which, for the record, is AMAZING. It is really creamy instead of really sweet, and so very, very good).

I am all over the place in the post. Don't worry: I realize this. I just have so much to catch up on! I am going to try my best to do so.

So, backing all the way up: we went to London at the end of January. As one friend later summarized it after her own trip: the British stole SO MUCH STUFF. It was a wonderful trip, and we did so much! We were staying at a hostel right down the street from the Natural History Museum, so we went there. Then we walked to Trafalgar Square, going past Buckingham Palace and spending a little bit of time in the National Gallery. We saw Avenue Q on West End. We walked all along the Thames, and went to the Globe. But by far, I think my favorite part was going to the British History Museum. I mean, yes, if my culture's precious artifacts had been stolen by the Empire back in the day, I'd be pissed, but it was such an amazing museum (that is my overused word in the post). I couldn't see enough of it. I wanted to see everything, but it closed before I could. I would love to spend an entire day there sometime, just wandering through the halls and marveling at it all. I have never felt so small as I did there, and never been so aware of so many different things that exist in this world.

The next weekend, we went to Galway. It was a little self-serving of me to insist that we go: I needed to make the trip for my thesis, surveying people on the train as we went (which went really well, both times that I've done it now). The city itself was so beautiful. The part we were in was kind of touristy, but still- there is a certain charm in the small cities of Ireland that you just can't beat.

Then we went to Dingle, a small seaside town. It was a little dull because it's the off season, but it's part of the Gaeltacht, so I really wanted to go. I was a little disappointed: there was little to no spoken Irish to be heard there in the everyday context. At the last bar we went to on our six pub pub crawl, one guy said a brief phrase and one of the girls with him said: "Don't speak that language to me." It was so sad. I think, that in the everyday context, the language really is on its last legs, and that is a shame.

That, I think, brings us to the present moment. I have been working hard on the thesis, cueing the above nostalgia. I am trying hard to make contacts at the school, and have succeeded in getting two, with two more to go. Every now and then, while my fascination with the project does not cease, my interest in the work does. I regret taking on such a huge project that preoccupies my time, my traveling. I have heard so many interesting things, and has some great conversations, but it's frustrating to know that I still have a ton of work ahead of me, and time is slipping away, the sand from the hourglass falling between my fingers even as I desperately try to catch it.

I cannot help but to count the days. this weekend: friends of friends in town. Next weekend: trip to the West, Keatley comes. The weekend after that: Keatley will still be here. The weekend after that: spring break, hopefully doing some fun traveling, otherwise it will be thesis work. The weekend after that: trip to Northern Ireland. Then Easter in Rome, a weekend here, Paris, Amsterdam, exams for two weeks, and then home. You see how the time cleverly escapes? I am terrified that I will not finish in time, and that I will have to stay longer.

So yeah. That's things in a nutshell right now: I am scrambling between trying to fit in all the fun and the thesis work and the actual class work. I endeavor to drive myself crazy, as per usual.

Hopefully I will update better from here on out.

So tired

So I just got back from a whirlwind trip to Galway. SO AWESOME. It is such a beautiful city. It was really foggy today, but yesterday it was kind of sunny and the coast there is gorgeous.

I had full Irish breakfast this morning, and I officially declare that to be the most ridiculous meal ever. I was full from that until around 7 this evening.

I forgot to blog after going to London. In short, it was awesome. Also in short, life is pretty awesome right now. As an explanation to the shortness, I am tired. I started this thinking I could make it through it, but the fact is, no, I can't. So I'm going to bed and will update better tomorrow, with any luck at all.