Better By Nightfall

I love Trader Joe's Pretzel Bread so much that I decided to look and see if there were any comparable recipes. Sure enough I found one and I can't wait to make some, but with cheese tops just like those in Germany.

Maybe I'll start a bakery?

I've been combating my affliction for the past two weeks and I think I've managed to mend some of my wounds. Although it is still too soon to say what will be in the coming semester, it is clear that I am going to finish up here to the best of my abilities. However difficult it may be and however lonely I may be, I am going to push through with the ultimate reward in sight: seeing my family.

I have no doubt that the remaining three weeks will challenge me beyond most everything else (except for the thesis, of course) up to this point. Two major (20-25 pages) papers and one theoretical paper which will inevitably drive me to drink heavily. I'm calling it my Martini Headgear (for Martin Heidegger) paper. All in all, I have my work cut out for me.

In addition to the stress of school, I've decided to go to campus health services to make sure I don't have some strange medical problem. I know that sounds odd to couple with all of this information. After all, you would think I would be headed to health and wellness services for some mental problem, but getting accepted into the Ph.D. program was the mental problem! Besides, I don't think my fatigue, dizziness, and abdominal pain have too much to do with my mental faculties. I'm sure it is just stress, but I want to make sure I'm not pre-diabetic or dealing with something worse. Of course, you might think I'm being paranoid. Maybe I am. I would rather be certain than sorry, though.


On a completely unrelated note, I deleted my twitter account. I'm not surprised if you didn't notice. I did it hastily and unannounced. Although twitter originally was fun to be a part of when it started, I have come to find it increasingly trivializing and downright boring. I enjoyed being able to stay in touch with everyone quickly, yet I secretly detested it. 140 characters into my life and you know nothing more about me; nothing substantial or important. Ultimately I felt that what I was getting out of twitter was a growing disconnection from others--a way of knowing less under the guise of seeing more. Thus, I deleted my account in the hope that those who know me and enjoy talking to me will continue to communicate with me through more genuine means. Type a comment. Write an e-mail. Send a postcard or letter. If I'm not too busy, call me and I may be able to chat. Don't expect to see me around twitter again, though. I'm done with it and, to some extent, some of the status updates I could put up on facebook as well.

Or more like two weeks ago, but I thought I should post the photos for your viewing pleasure.

. . .find the resources necessary to do so and become stronger for it.

Although I am not wholly better after venting my frustrations and concerns, I do feel somewhat better in the realization that I have an amazing support system of friends and family who have helped me think through my personal issues. I feel comforted by their words as I continue to struggle through my program and I am incredibly thankful for them.

It has been tough to occupy this liminal space, especially since I feel so alone. However, I know that I am not so isolated. I have support, although it is distanced. I have faith, even though I am clouded by hopelessness. I have my convictions, though I doubt my abilities.

It's time to turn toward the fight, and not away from it. It will inevitably include psychosomatic bruises and strains, and uncertain pain, but I am better for it. I am better than what I was and will be better in what I become.

I think the title of this entry says it all, but in case it is not enough, I will elaborate.

The last three weeks here have been particularly hectic. So hectic, in fact, that I have often thought about quitting the program if things do not improve over the next semester.

I'm not entirely sure when it started, but I believe that it is a feeling that has been under the surface since I started the program here. Without being too specific yet for clarity purposes, I will say that, over the last nine weeks, the image of this program that I thought I came here for has been replaced by something darker.

Darker in that: I cannot understand why so many of the people here are distant and/or judgmental; I still do not understand why no one here has read the research I have already done to know me better; certain people are incredibly rude and inconsiderate of those who have moved from further away than those who came from within the state; everyone has all these ambiguous expectations and no one will clarify what the fuck they mean; and, outside of the program, nothing feels like home--my apartment is still mostly empty and I don't have many people to rely on here.

To top it off, I was also assigned to teach Public Speaking again for the tenth time. While some might find this less of an issue, I think it was the cherry on top of the icing coating the clusterfuck of a cake I've been choking down here. I'm tired of teaching this course, but even more tired of "paying my dues" or "putting my time in" or "jumping through hoops". Haven't I done enough of that already? I thought a Ph.D. program was less about learning the ropes and more about being welcomed into an academic community where you were understood and pushed to develop further in the best ways possible.

I guess I was mislead.

Of course, I'm not throwing the towel in or giving up. Although, I wouldn't necessarily say that leaving would be either of those options in my eyes.

I am going to give it one more semester. One more chance in the hope that things actually improve and that I actually find some happiness, clarity, and warmth out here. One last chance before I lose sight of the real reason I came out here: my future happiness, not my future endless sacrifices whilst bending over the table so I can be repeatedly raped by a broken glass bottle.