2022 Jan-May

Talk Louder, David Byrne

Posted April 10th By Laura Bristol

Lately, I’ve been obsessed with the Talking Heads.  I listen to them on road trips, while cooking expansive dinners, and writing essays. (Even now, drafting this blog, David Byrne reassures me “I got plenty of time.”) Always, their music makes me feel like I’m going somewhere, and after the existential crisis that I’m calling “Life During 2022,” movement feels important.

Last July I flew out of Glenside, still buzzing from a week’s residency with my MFA cohort.  I was happy, and a little heartsick having just said goodbye to the fourteen writers I’d come to love.  Everything seemed to be changing very fast.  I was on my way to visit my uncle who, at the time, was suffering the late stages of a cancer diagnosis.  I kept thinking of the story I’d workshopped during residency–a piece about a young woman who returns to a house after a tragedy.  It still needed an ending.  I sat with my uncle, holding his cold hand and talking about T.S. Eliot, and after I went back to my brother’s apartment and began to write the rest.

I came to Arcadia to become a better writer.  In a personal essay my first semester, I said I wanted to find “my writer’s voice,” but what does that actually mean?  At some point every new writer is told of the writer’s voice.  We’re instructed to uncover a style that is wholly unique to us and apparently hidden, like the road atlas buried under the seat of my car.  Until we find “our voice,” we’re basically phonies stealing from those wiser and older than us, or so we’re told.

In their 1985 song “Road to Nowhere,” the Talking Heads declare: “We know where we're goin'/But we don't know where we've been.”  As a new graduate student, I thought I knew where I was going.  I was looking for my style.  Two years later, I see that what I actually needed was to confront my reluctance to share where I’ve been.  When discussing his early days as a singer/performer, David Byrne told an interviewer: “I couldn’t talk to people face to face, so I got on stage and started screaming.”  I feel this way some days.  But humor aside, Mr. Byrne makes a case here for vulnerability.

In my residency story, the narrator has come back to the house in order to take a closer look at tragedy.  I was guilty of the opposite: I covered my eyes.  I came to Arcadia to find my voice, and attacked it with the wrong verb.  Writing is not about finding something exterior to ourselves, but turning interior.  As writers–as human beings–a lot of our time is spent seeking interpersonal connections; mostly we look for that from others, but it is just as important to look inward, to our own histories.  I spent a long time rejecting vulnerability.  And why not?  It can be frightening.  It asks us to learn more about ourselves than we might want to know.  To write well–to write authentically–is to be vulnerable.  It is looking long and hard at our past experiences, our heartaches, and beliefs, and then sharing those precious fragments with others.  The writer’s voice isn’t one that has mastered the semicolon or achieved market differentiation.  It is simply your own voice, with all its uncertainty and triumphs and awkward moments.  And it is beautiful, because it is yours.

My uncle passed away in January.  I’ll be missing my graduation in order to attend his memorial, but I’m leaving Arcadia with a new respect for the voices of my students, my peers, and my mentors, as well as for my own.  I may not know exactly where I’m going from here, but I do know where I’ve been.  So, for now, I’ll turn the radio up a bit louder, and let David Bryne talk.

Happy Endings

*Warning: Includes many movie endings

After the past few years we’ve had, I think it’s fair to say that we’re all looking for an end to this era of pandemic and isolation. I’m also sure that I’m not the only person who passed a lot of quarantine time by watching movies/tv. Growing up, I was the type of person who was always looking for a happy ending in whatever I watched- I needed to know that the ‘bad guys’ were caught and the ‘good guys’ were okay. During quarantine, I spent some time rewatching movies and thinking about them a little differently now that I’m older. With this post, I’m going to discuss the really cool thing about happy endings. 

We’ve all seen the movies- Cinderella and Prince Charming live happily ever after; the Dalmatians get away from Cruella; the genie is free and jasmine gets to run her own life; the beast’s curse is broken; Merida and her mom get along; Rapunzel is reunited with her parents and rules Corona with Flynn- you get the idea. 

As much as I love these movies and I’m glad they ended well, movies and books have probably ruined a lot of people’s outlooks toward happy endings. There are so many stories given to us where the main character gets everything they’ve ever wanted, and what do we get from these stories? Paper cuts and ticket stubs. The truth is: life can be hard, and sometimes things just don’t go how we wanted them to, but that doesn’t have to be the end of the story.

This brings me to the cool part: maybe the happy ending just isn’t what we expect it to be. There’s no set happy ending to anything. Andy’s toys didn’t go with him to college; Carl didn’t take Ellie to paradise falls; Lightning McQueen didn’t win the piston cup; Mike and Sully got kicked out of Monsters University; Ian didn’t get to meet his dad; Gusteau’s restaurant closed down- yet all of these characters found happiness in the end of their movies.

There are sometimes characters who are convinced that happy endings are beyond them, for example, Megamind. Megamind says in his movie “I’m the bad guy! I don’t save the day, I don’t fly off into the sunset, and I don’t get the girl!” Megamind later goes on to save the day, get the girl, and have the townspeople cheer for him in front of a giant statue of him. I’m not saying to expect this big of a turnaround in real life, but next time Covid cancels a trip or you go through a breakup or you don’t get a job you wanted or something doesn’t go how you wanted it to, just remember that the story isn’t over. I don’t think the point of life is to find a happy ending, but to learn how to make whatever ending you get into a happy one.   

Who Owns The Past?

Each civilization has their own individual culture. The ways in which we interact with each other have been developed and curated over several centuries. Culture makes up how we identify ourselves, how we act, what we prioritize and more. In short, it’s something that is incredibly important. Museums have become extremely important in connecting people with the past and exhibiting culture. However, how were they given the opportunity to obtain these artifacts and how do they create an unbiased narrative or biography of each of these artifacts. 

Whenever you’re in a museum you see various artifacts from several different cultures.  You might ponder how the museum obtained such artifacts. There has been a long history of debate arguing who holds the right to display cultural artifacts. Many museum artifacts have been obtained legally; however, narratives are beginning to change and lots of people want their artifacts back in their home country. This is the case for the often debated Parthenon Marbles which were an artifact of the Parthenon in Greece. The sculptures were taken by a British ambassador where they are now exhibited in the British Museum. The marbles have a deep meaning to the city of Athens where they originate from. Athens was known as the religious center of Greece and the marbles were dedicated to the goddess Athena. 

The Marbles were excavated by Lord Elgin who believed that he was saving the marbles. Years after he took the marbles Greece demanded that they be returned to their place of origin because of the meaning they hold. Greece argues that the marbles were taken without the permission of Greece and they were not being shown to the public promptly. After the museum obtained the marbles the actual showing of the marbles was frequentley delayed due to some issues with the gallery. Another argument stated by Greece is the intended use of the marbles by Elgin. Lord Elgin when he first excavated the marbles intended to use them as decoration for his home. Clearly, this would be upsetting if such an important sculptural piece with historic and religious significance was not being shown to the public for educational purposes. The biggest argument made by Greece is the cultural importance of the pieces. The marbles connect people to their ancestry, cultural identity, and religion. The marbles are an incredibly important piece to Greece and as they argue should be returned to their home.   

However, Europe argues differently stating that the Marbles should stay within the London Museum. Britain argues that by removing the marbles from Greece they were saving them and protecting the antiquites. Another more important argument made by the museum is that after the return of the sculptures to Greece many other antiquites will follow leaving the museum bare. They state that after returning the Parthenon marbles other antiquities such as the Rosetta stone will follow because they originate from somewhere else. They state that allowing this will empty out museums because how can they justify giving away this one piece but keep the rest. Overall Britain's argument stems from preserving antiquity in a way that Greece would have been unable to do. 

There is a lot more to this controversy and there are a lot more controversies like it. Many believe that the sculptures should be returned to Greece but what does that mean for other antiquites within museums? What should and should not be attained and kept by museums and when is the line from cultural preservation to cultural theft crossed? It’s a very hard topic to discuss and I suggest that it should be given more attention. Every society has the right to their cultural artifacts but what does that mean for cultural education and preservation? There are plenty of questions to be asked and unfortunately I don’t have a definitive answer for you. However, it’s important to recognize how colonialism has allowed many museums to obtain the artifacts that they have and that by keeping them it could be argued it upholds colonialist regimes. I hope I have made a sufficient enough outline for you but I recommend doing more research on this subject if you are interested. There is so much more to the topic and has been a debate for quite some time now.

A Personal Exploration of #OwnVoices and Writing Diversity

Lately, I’ve been thinking about diversity in storytelling. 

This isn’t exactly new. Last semester, I wrote a paper about identity and cancel culture in Young Adult (YA) literature; I check the We Need Diverse Books website frequently, looking for new titles and interested in the stories of emerging authors (WNDB is primarily for kidlit, Middle Grade, and Young Adult fiction, my happy place for reading). But there’s an undercurrent to this interest too: intense anxiety. 

As a reader, I celebrate the variety of identities being increasingly represented in Middle Grade and Young Adult fiction. I grew up with a plethora of characters who looked like me, all of them distinct and different: not everyone has that luxury, and everyone should. Amplifying historically marginalized voices is equally important. 

As an aspiring writer, however, I am terrified of getting it wrong. 

Misrepresentation or perceived cultural oversights and blunders have created intense backlashes, especially in YA and its online communities. When the author Laurie Forest’s fantasy novel The Black Witch was deemed problematic — the story charted the growth of a protagonist who, at the novel’s start, displayed severe bias and hatred towards the other fantasy races of her world — Forest was treated to a campaign of one-star reviews on Goodreads (largely from readers who hadn’t had the chance to actually read the book, which was still weeks from its publication date and only distributed to select beta-readers). Accusations against Forest including calling her a neo-nazi and a white supremacist. 

Mackenzi Lee, another prominent YA author known for her emphasis on the lives of LGBTQ+ characters in historical fiction, pulled her novel The Madness Blooms from publication after concerns were raised about Lee’s choice to deadname her transgender male protagonist in promotional material (though worth noting is that Lee’s protagonist discovers his gender identity over the course of the novel). On the book’s Goodreads page, comparisons were made between Lee and notoriously transphobic author J.K. Rowling. The vitriol can extend both ways; in one case, critics of the fantasy novel Blood Heir received death threats after the book was delayed in publication. This is not the kind of press anyone wishes for their work; for an emerging author, it could prove a terrible obstacle to any further success. 

There are steps that can be taken to ensure that representation, especially when an author works with a character who doesn’t share their cultural/ethnic/racial/gender/sexuality identity, is fair and nuanced. Sensitivity readers, research, and input from members of specific communities can all help to ensure that a portrayal is authentic and an issue addressed in all its complexity. But mistakes can always be made, and it is that fear — of making mistakes, alienating readers, perpetuating a system of inequality and bias — that makes me wonder if I am the right person to tell diverse stories. 

Now, there are quite obviously some narratives that would be better left in the capable hands of more authentic storytellers. A story of a trans teen’s transition process would be better understood by a transgender person; an immigrant or a child of immigrants will better approach the worldview and mindset of the physical and cultural relocation experience. I don’t want to be the sort of person, pushy and privileged, that bristles simply at the premise that there are some stories it would be better for me personally not to tell. 

Nevertheless, the path encouraged — directly and indirectly — by this line of thinking would indicate that the safest — and perhaps most authentic — story to tell would be one that correlates to my own lived experiences. Not necessarily an autobiography, but what has been dubbed for several years now #OwnVoices — a work of fiction in which the author and their protagonist share the same (marginalized) identity. 

I could do this. I have, to some extent, a diverse story to tell: large portions of my life have been heavily affected by my Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. But, the more I consider, the more the question becomes: do I want to tell an OCD story? 

Issues of race, class, or ableism, gender or sexuality relate on a more societal level to hatred and bigotry; brown skin is only seen as a disadvantage in a fundamentally racist society. And while there has always been a historical stigma and discirmination around people suffering from mental illness, I would never deny that the hardship of poor mental health is only an external problem. My OCD made my life incredibly and increasingly miserable for years, strained relationships with my friends and family, lessened my quality of life. I have OCD and I’m proud of it! No. There’s nothing to be celebrated here, aside from perhaps the good work of doctors and family to help me persevere. 

Stories of perseverance are always inspiring, aren’t they? Especially, I am sure, for kids like me, struggling in the ways I am familiar with. Even in a fictional protagonist, a tale of success — or even just continuing the fight — could provide comfort and fortitude. But… is it my responsibility to write a book like that, a book so inspired by personal experience? Is it my duty? 

I refuse to believe that. My recollections of my experiences are mine to control. I do not owe it to anyone to reveal them, to use them as inspiration, to shape a story out of them — especially if the storytelling itself would bring back more pain. I spent years in a difficult headspace; I have no desire to go back there, even through the lens of a fictional character. 

There is also the fact that no two stories, two sets of experiences, will be identical. I could write a book about my experience with OCD, but it would be my voice alone. No one has the right to speak for an entire group of people without their knowledge and consent; no one should. Even if I did write a #OwnVoices novel, it could only be applied to me — because everyone else is different. There should be no novel labeled as the disability book, the refugee book, the OCD book — something that I’m not sure the majority-white publishing industry always understands. 

On a more personal level, I’m not a big fan of diverse books that deal solely with a protagonist’s diversity. They absolutely have their place — but I have always been an escapist reader. To me, why should it only be white kids and teens, straight kids and teens, cisgender kids and teens, that get to populate genres other than realistic fiction? Why can’t a lesbian girl go to the wizard school? Why can’t the disabled boy solve crimes? Why shouldn’t the non-binary person with anxiety get to save the day? (for that matter, why can’t a gay, disabled, non-binary person with anxiety get to be the hero by solving crimes at a wizard school? Intersectionality matters too!). We’re seeing more of these types of books being published too, and it’s a trend (hopefully the start of a tradition) that I admire. Of course, a mental health issue would complicate this concept — it’s hard to fight the villain when trapped so thoroughly in your own head — but it’s an interesting avenue for exploration. 

I can’t say what might inspire me, motivate me, in the future. I am interested in exploring in some way, at some time, my reckoning with mental health. But I refuse to believe that the simple act of having a diverse experience should serve as an obligation to write about it. So I will keep moving forward with my story ideas and my characters. They will be diverse — not for marketing’s sake but because everyone deserves to see a representation of themselves in fiction — and I will do my best to conquer my nerves and do my research to ensure that I accurately portray any aspect of diversity I choose to include. 

And if I ever turn to my own story as inspiration, it will be my choice. 

Living as a Disabled Person in an Ableist World

“Do the doors work?” “Are the elevators working?” “Are there cracks in the sidewalk?” “Is it better to wheel backward or forward in the doorway?”  These are probably not questions that an average Arcadia student has in the back of their mind every second of every day, while being on this campus. But these are questions that I have to ask myself every time I am trying to get from one place to another on campus. And for the sake of time, I have to hope the answer is yes. Because otherwise I need to call Public Safety or allot extra time to make sure I can get to class on time. Does that sound exhausting? 

Well, it is.

And to think I wouldn’t even have been able to access buildings on this campus until a couple years ago, and wouldn’t have been able to cite laws that prevent discrimination based on my ability for any building until 31 years ago.

31 years ago. 

Before 1990, I could have been legally barred from buildings, education, and jobs, based on my ability. That’s why I say I’m grateful, because the generations before me had it worse; they didn’t even have legal protections. But even with “legal protections”, I deal with major accessibility issues everywhere I go. And it’s exhausting.

It’s exhausting to deal with that, but it’s even worse to feel alone in those concerns.

Which leads me to why I am so passionate about the current revitalization of Arcadia University Disability Organization, or AUDO. I find having a community to share feelings, emotions and concerns with to be so incredibly important. Knowing that you’re not alone can make so much of a difference in your relationships to your identity, and really save lives. And it’s not even always about sharing serious concerns with others in your community, it’s just having that community to socialize with generally. To have movie nights with. To play games with. To just exist with. That doesn’t diminish the importance of advocacy work and talking through disability issues, because that’s an important purpose for the community to serve. And as the (future) president of AUDO, that’s exactly what I envision, a mix of both advocacy and just existence as a community. 

But just like the purpose of this post, I want to open AUDO to able-bodied people who are allies to the community and willing to learn more about the disabled community by listening to disabled voices. So I’m hoping if you’re reading this post, AUDO is now on your radar and you’re thinking of joining the effort of revitalization.  If you're interested, you can contact me, Ryland, at emcginniss@arcadia.edu to get involved!

Video Games in Quarantine: A Beginner's Journey

Before March of 2020 I didn’t really play video games.  I only casually played the Sims 4 to customize new characters and never play as them or I revisited old games from my childhood for nostalgia.  But quarantine brought about a seemingly random and sudden interest for playing more video games.  I had previously seen or heard about some games that I thought looked interesting, but was never willing to spend the money to actually play them.  However, 2020 presented me with a sense of boredom that I needed to fill with something new.  I’ve played many games over the past two years, but some of my favorites have been indie horror or adventure games: Hello Neighbour, Little Nightmares 1 and 2, Bendy and the Ink Machine, and most recently, Limbo and Inside.

Even though I began to play video games more often, I didn’t and still don’t know much about how they work and how they are made, so I usually focused on the storytelling aspect.  Another new interest that came with playing video games was obsessing over what the stories within the games might mean.  I played quite a few indie horror games and many of them have ambiguous endings or broad storylines and themes.  Besides watching videos or playthroughs of other people trying to figure out the meaning of a game, I started looking into the stories as well.  While I didn’t really do much research outside of playing the game itself, I really enjoyed putting together ideas from videos, my own experiences with a game, and my friends’ perspectives of them.  

Little Nightmares is an example of a game that has no clear story, but plenty of opinions from people who have played it trying to figure out what it means.  While there are many different theories regarding the more concise details and easter eggs from the game, people generally agree on a few key storyline analyses, like the idea that the Lady is consuming the souls of those who have eaten young children in order to be the most youthful and beautiful person on the Maw (and yes there is a lot of not so subtle cannibalism in this game).  This is supported by the fact that many of the guests and even the cooks the protagonist Six encounters on the ship wear grotesque masks that cover their real faces, suggesting that the Lady requires everyone to be more ugly than her.   

Bendy and the Ink Machine is another game that has a very ambiguous ending that leads the player to question the rest of the game itself.  There are many theories that range from interpreting the game as literal to seeing the majority of the game as a story or a metaphor for what really happened to the protagonist Henry.  I thought the different theories were interesting to look into, especially when thinking about the storytelling of the game.  It’s a very different experience if you play the game thinking Joey is literally selling his employees’ souls to an ink demon than if you see the story itself as more metaphorical.  I personally think that the game is about Joey more than it is about Henry, and that the entirety of the game represents the guilt that Joey has manifested in the form of Bendy and an absurd world of people who have fallen victim to Joey’s relentlessness in trying to save his company.  

These two are just some examples of the (probably unnecessary) lengths I went into thinking about the stories of games on top of enjoying the experience of playing the games themselves.  I took something that I enjoyed theorizing about, storytelling, and applied it to a casual hobby that has helped me get through some of the monotonous times during quarantine, lockdowns, and generally staying home during the pandemic.  As silly as it may have been to invest so much extra time diving into the background of many of these horror games and obsess over what the endings mean, it made me feel even more immersed in the games themselves, giving me a new form of entertainment.         

Feeling Alive During the End of the World

Okay, it’s not the end of the world (quite yet), but it feels like it sometimes, doesn’t it? Open up the news, turn on the radio, scroll a little through social media, and you’ll hear about something bad. Whether you’re looking for it or not, it’s there, and that’s just the truth. Sometimes it feels so overwhelming that I can’t help but think to myself…end of the world? Honestly, bring it on.

I have my cynical moments, but honestly I do try to stay positive. I try to practice gratitude and really remind myself how lucky I have it, but sometimes that’s really just not enough. While I’m staring at things that I am truly thankful for right in front of me, or I’m embracing the comfort of my warm, soft, bed and a room of my own, my head is still swirling with negative thoughts. 

How do you feel alive during a global pandemic? During a time when civil unrest feels like it’s hitting an all-time high? When every little thing seems to pile up into a mound of worries, fears, and inconveniences? At the end of 2020, in December, someone hit my car. It was repaired (luckily not at my expense), but the timing of it really made me laugh. This year, the very first week of January, I was sick (those new years resolutions weren’t really going to be put in motion anyway, were they?). Two years into 2020 and it still feels like we’re right back where we started.

Again, how do you feel alive? Content? Happy? I’m no expert, but I do happen to believe that doing things you love, being around people you like, and finding out whatever it is that gives you that feeling, that being alive sensation, helps with the tricky feeling of impending doom. That seems simple enough, but sometimes it takes some time to realize what’s important.

I’m what you might call a free-spirited person, so when I get used to surroundings, routines, scenes, buildings, things, etc, I start to feel the itch to just be somewhere else. I can’t always get up and leave the state or the country, but I’ve found that seeing or experiencing anything new can still give me that feeling of alive-ness. Whether it’s a random town I’ve never been to, a new restaurant or bar, a new place to hike, or somewhere a couple hours away, seeing something new makes me feel genuinely excited. The idea that there are a million things, places, and people I’ve never seen, and experiences I’ve never had is constantly swimming around in my mind, and that can be something that weighs on me. I need new, I need a break in the routine every once in a while, and I need to have an opportunity to be outside of my comfort zone. Last summer, a friend and I scoured Groupon just looking for something fun, and we ended up picking a Korean spa in New Jersey. We didn’t know when we bought it, but there are some spots within the spa where you get fully naked, not just with each other, but with strangers. That might sound anxiety-inducing to some, but to me, it was just something I’d never done. We spent the whole day there and had a great time, and on days like that I can sleep easier at night knowing I did something different—something new to me. 

Human connection. That’s another thing. Real connection. I’m naturally an introvert and I’ve become even more anti-social during COVID times, but I’ve gotta see people. Being in school is great for that because it gives me unlimited opportunities to talk to all kinds of people. I’m a nerd, so I like to talk about literature a lot, and the discussions we have in class are really meaningful to me. Conversation without phones involved is rare anymore, so talking without distraction is something that feels really human and really great. Outside of school, it’s just important to see people when I can. Luckily I’ve realized that my mom is one of my best friends, and she conveniently lives less than ten minutes from my house. I know this might not always be the case, so I’m treasuring the time that we’re neighbors. We hang out a lot, and it’s a real warm feeling that I genuinely enjoy hanging out with my family because I know that not everyone has that. Laughing, joking, sharing stories and celebrating each other's accomplishments is something that makes me feel alive and happy to be alive. 

I still need to recharge after a heavy bout of socialization, but I also realize that I need that socialization. Whether it’s just getting or giving a hug, asking someone how they’re doing, having a long conversation, catching up with someone, helping somebody with something, cooking for someone or with someone, or doing anything that reminds you there are other people here with you—it feels good.  

I’m not a doctor, so I can’t prescribe anything, but I can tell you how I’m coping with things. Everyone’s different, so maybe you’ll read this and feel the complete opposite. Dealing with the feeling of impending doom doesn’t have a one-size-fits all approach. Instagram gurus might just tell you to drink a lot of water and meditate everyday, practice gratitude, get eight hours of sleep, and maybe it will all be okay. Me? I’m just looking for those moments where I really feel like I’m living and not just a part of a simulation. The bleak news is stressful, but we do have some power in crafting our reality. Filling my life with those moments that make me feel like I’m conscious, breathing, alive; it makes me feel like I have some control, and maybe that’s what’s important when it feels like everything else is descending into chaos.

Look Who's Inside Again

Last year we finally made our way back to the theaters to watch all of the latest releases the way they were supposed to be seen. Many new movies found success at the box office after delays, poor streaming releases, or other setbacks due to the pandemic. Towards the end of May, I made my own return and saw A Quiet Place: Part II, which I remember being pretty good. From there I was able to see a couple horror movies with friends, like Last Night in Soho and the recently released Scream (which I loved). At the end of the year, I made my childhood self happy by seeing Spider-Man: No Way Home a few times in the theater, and everything finally felt right in the movie world.

That is, until it came time to pick my favorites of the year.

2020’s picks were much easier to access, since most of the releases were on streaming platforms and I didn’t have to leave my house to find them. This year however, that was not the case. Normally, I’d look through the movies the critics are saying are “the best” and I’d find some hidden gems that way. However, I did not do that this year since I would have to pay $15 for every single one and after watching The Power of the Dog, I really didn't trust the critics enough to do that (oops). I watched a few of them, and I’ll likely continue to do so when I’m able to, but there are major gaps in my 2021 movie experience. That being said, I’m not going to pick a bunch of my favorite movies from the year like I would normally do. Instead, I want to shed some light on a piece that stood out to me (and to many others) as a huge highlight of the year. 

The piece in question? Inside by Bo Burnham.

Inside picks up in the room that Burnham leaves at the very end of his 2016 Netflix special, Make Happy. For the next hour and a half viewers are trapped in this room with Bo over the course of 2020 and 2021 as he tries to “make content” again. The special shows his mental state rapidly deteriorating as he attempts to defeat his own demons while the world seems to crumble around him. Classic 2020 things! While this all is going on, Burnham explores other deep topics such as aging, creativity and toxicity, disassociation, technology’s control over humanity, and of course the insatiable audience that haunts him. To add another layer to the cake, he also uses his platform to address various pressing issues ranging from climate change to the harmful effects of a capitalist society (and everything in between). The visual symbolism paired with incredible lyrics tell a story that is so authentic and relatable it’s impossible to get through it without taking something away from it. This quick summary really doesn’t do this piece justice, so if you haven't seen it please just do yourself a favor and watch it. If you really don’t want to watch the whole thing, please at least listen to the song “That Funny Feeling” from the piece, you wont regret it.

While Inside is getting a lot of recognition (which it deserves), I think that many people are still not giving it all of the credit it deserves since it’s a “comedy special”. The film bros are going to beat me up for this one, but who cares! Someone at Netflix looked at Burnham’s prior work, called it a comedy special long before seeing it, and locked him in a box made by a Bo from the past. Sound familiar? Anyways, the point is that it’s not fair to exclude Inside from these “best of 2021” discussions due to a bullshit technicality. 

It is filmed the same way a movie would be. If it were just a recording of a standup performance like most of the other comedy specials on Netflix, I would understand, but it’s not. It’s filmed the same way a movie would be, with all of the thought behind lighting, editing, aspect ratios, depth-of-field, and well, his room. Burnham sets up this room in hundreds of different ways for different parts of the film in order to give off various effects that he could not otherwise. For example, during the “White Woman’s Instagram” segment, he poses with daisies over his eyes and sets his camera up with a filter that makes the shot look similar to film grain. Then he uses the various lighting equipment he has to make it look like he’s actually sitting outside in the sunlight, even though he’s on the floor of this room. There are tons of other examples throughout the film as to how he uses the tools at his disposal to change the viewers perception of the images they’re presented with. Also, it has a runtime of 1 hour and 27 minutes, which is average movie length and each second of that is used perfectly (unlike a lot of the ones on Rotten Tomatoes’ list). 

Ultimately, what sets Inside apart from a comedy special is how the audience is used. In a typical standup routine that is later released on Netflix, viewers can hear the audience laughing at the jokes and the comedian can then use that reaction to their advantage. Burnham did not have an audience. Instead, the camera that we see out of is the only sense of an audience he has, and it haunts him. There is no camaraderie, we are trapped behind our screens watching Burnham torture and lose himself while trying to make content for us. In his story, the viewer is the camera, and more importantly, the villain.

Another thing to note is that Burnham created this project ALONE. He wrote it, he directed it, he edited it, and he starred in it. Not only that, he wrote the entire soundtrack that plays a MAJOR role in the piece and recorded/performed all of the music himself as well. Burnham became the first person in history to win three Emmys individually in a single year after he won the awards for directing, writing, and music direction in 2021. Inside has been nominated for many other awards including Best Music Film, Best Song Written for Visual Media, and Best Original Song and Burnham has been nominated for countless directing and writing awards, even winning the Hollywood Critics Association’s Honorary Virtuoso Award.

The film was also released to critical acclaim from many different publications. The Guardian gave it 5/5 stars, on Metacritic the film is sitting at a 98/100 and on Rotten Tomatoes it has a rating of 94%. Soon after it was released on Netflix, Burnham released the songs from Inside on music streaming platforms. It hit #1 on the Billboard Top Comedy Albums list in like an hour (because who cares) and stayed there all year long. More importantly though, Inside peaked at #7 on the Billboard Top 200, competing with some of the biggest artists of the time like J.Cole and Olivia Rodrigo. Now, Inside is available on CD and vinyl, and the music sounds just as good if not better than before.

With all of this being said, I really don’t think it’s fair that so many end of the year lists have left Burnham’s masterpiece out. I personally don't think I have ever interacted with a more authentic piece of media in my entire life and I am grateful to have had that experience. Inside is going to go down in history as a classic, just give it some time, you’ll see. Even though it’s more than a comedy, it really is something special.

2021 Aug-Dec

Color Me Blue: A Deep Dive Into My Own Poetry

Last semester a poem of mine titled “Color Me Blue” won Contest 16 for Quiddity, during National Poetry Month. During the voting process, I heard a lot of interesting perspectives on the poem from my peer editors, none of whom knew I wrote the poem. I sat back and listened to them discuss the meaning of the poem, the syntax, the style, and while they did this, a general question came up: Why is blue capitalized throughout the poem? 

As the poet behind that poem, it obviously would’ve been inappropriate of me to insert why the word blue was continuously capitalized during the discussion on whether this piece could be considered as a winner. It would’ve been inappropriate of me to say anything as an editor who has some influence over our publishing decisions, so I stayed silent. After all, I firmly believe that any piece of text belongs to its readers. It is no longer solely mine to discern the meaning anymore, or what different writing choices could mean to different people.

However, the idea popped into my head to make this blog post, in which I could explain my creative choices, and talk about how cool the color blue is (not just literally, but figuratively). 

Let’s start at the point of inspiration: Blue Lovers by Marc Chagall, 1914.

Picture taken of Marc Chagall in 1920 by Pierre Choumoff. 

Marc Chagall was a Russian-French painter who explored many different art forms, such as Cubism, Expressionism, and Fauvism, among others. I didn’t know who he was until I took a ceramics class in 12th grade, and was assigned to make a piece inspired by one of the artists or movements my art teacher had shown during class. If I can recall correctly, one of the images my teacher had shown of his paintings was Paris Through the Window (1913) and I was stuck on the way he so subtly, but beautifully captured the colors to tell a story. Albeit, a very odd image and perhaps an odd story, but a vibrant one nonetheless. 

Marc Chagall. "Paris Through the Window (1913)." 

At a first glance, one might look at this painting and think: Is that a cat? 

I was just as bewildered. But I was so drawn to his use of colors and how he made each one stand out, that I needed to see more. 

Eventually,  as I continued to scroll through his repertoire I stumbled upon Blue Lovers on my computer screen and I couldn’t stop staring. I didn’t know why I couldn’t peel my eyes away. 

Marc Chagall. "Blue Lovers (1914)." 

Maybe it’s because this painting of two lovers infused in hues of blue made my chest float. It made my brain think. Why blue of all colors to depict these lovers? Why are certain areas of the painting more clouded in blue than others? What is Chagall saying about love? What is he saying about the color blue? 

As I continued to stare at this painting, it just didn’t seem right to assume that something sad was happening here, despite our vernacular predisposing me to think so. We’ve all heard these idioms: “I’m feeling blue,” “He/She/They have the Monday blues,” “blue in the face,” “to be in a blue funk,” and “to be blue around the gills.” Heck, even our computers go blue sometimes, otherwise known as the “blue screen of death.” I could continue on, but you get the point. 

All of these idioms in some way reflect a negative sentiment, centering around feelings of sadness, depression, desolation, loneliness, hopelessness, or frustration. Somehow our society and our language has adopted this word to describe things in a way that communicates melancholy and sorrow. And what a stark contrast to idioms like “tickled pink” or “rose-tinted glasses,” in which “tickled” immediately indicates laughter and joy, and “rose-tinted” indicates feeling smitten and lovingly about someone. Either way, hues of pink are usually indicating something much more positive than what we typically associate with blue. 

Even songs use this word to describe otherwise negative or sad feelings. Ever since I’ve seen this painting, I listen more closely to lyrics that use blue to describe emotion. One of the songs I listen to called “Last Day Under the Sun” by Volbeat, is a very upbeat song, but the lyrics are much darker. There are several lyrics in the song that utilize the color blue to describe someone who is feeling down, such as “Don’t let the blues get you down,” and “I’ll be alone and blue.” The very famous song “Blue” by Eiffel 65 is all about feeling blue, referencing loneliness and sadness so overwhelming that everything the man sees, wears, and feels in the song is blue, too. I’m sure you can think of some lyrics or phrases yourself that are similar. 

In all this reflection about the color blue, I realized something. Blue is the most emotional color there is. It captures ranges of the depths an emotion can be, in a way no other color can. Sure, you can have rose-tinted spectacles on when you see or think about someone you love, but even that feels superficial. Red can convey love, as well, but to me it has no depth. It’s always just a red blob of a heart, but where’s the passion? 

Chagall completely transformed my perspective on what the color blue means. To me, the color blue represents richness and depth. A richness and depth other colors just can’t seem to convey or capture. When I think of the type of love most human beings say they want to experience, and that I personally want to experience, I think of a burning intensity, passion. The bluest flame burns the hottest. 

When I look at Chagall’s Blue Lovers, I see an intensity and passion for the love these lovers share. I was so inspired and moved by his painting that in addition to making two ceramic pieces in high school inspired by his art, years later I decided to write an ekphrasis.  The first instance in which I utilize “Blue” in “Color Me Blue” is in the following line: “her sight and taste are hooded under a Blue haze” (4).  If you look closely at the woman in this painting, her eyes are smudged out into a blue haze, reminiscent of how we say someone has “rose-tinted glasses” on when they love someone. Her perspective is so distorted by the love they share, that even her face is beginning to smudge and blur, the outlines of her eyes a pool of sapphire instead.

The next stanza contains the lines: “she feels the mystic Blues / as ‘Blue Lovers’ bleed and fuse” (6-7). As an obvious and direct reference to the painting, what I gather from this image is that the woman feels very much in love with this man, so much so that their love is making them become one. We see the woman’s left shoulder and the man’s right. We see the left side of her face and the right side of his. We see the left half of her lips and the right side of his. Not to mention, the woman’s top and glove are checkered, indicating a dualistic pattern—black and white fitting together into a single pattern. Almost like they are fitting together themselves, one woman and one man, yin and yang. In general, the woman has lighter clothing, while the man is darker, fitting into the black and white imagery of the checkered shirt and glove. 

I analyze this imagery to be Chagall’s own take on “the idea of Plato’s Soulmates” (line 9). Plato’s Soulmate Theory, written about in “The Symposium,” discusses an idea proposed by Aristophanes, a Greek comedy writer who believed that God created all beings in a dualistic nature, two halves of a greater whole. This set of soulmates had four legs, four arms, and two faces on each side of the head, among other characteristics that joined the two into one. Zeus, threatened by the power of these dual mortals, cut them in two, making them weaker as they lived in search of their other half. Leonardo da Vinci’s “The Vitruvian Man” always sprung to the forefront of my imagination when I first heard of this story, as the man in da Vinci’s drawing had four legs and four arms, though many art historians have theorized da Vinci is actually depicting the relationship between man and universe.

Leonardo da Vinci. "The Vitruvian Man (1490)." 

Plato also believed in the relationship between man and God and man and goodness, and not so much in soulmates. However, the phrase “Plato’s Soulmates” or “Plato’s Soulmate Theory” is often misinterpreted as Plato telling the story of how soulmates came from Zeus, when in fact he is telling the story from Aristophanes and proposing his own stance on the subject. Chagall carving out his own commentary on love and what colors can represent the union between two people that differs from popular opinion, reminded me of what Plato did to Aristophanes. 

The poem ends, “consummation of a love so deep and true / keep your pinks, red, and pastels / Color Me Blue” (12-14). Here, my own intention was to say that I no longer desire a love that pertains to rose-tinted spectacles, or that is even suggestive of red heart emojis nor bland heart boxes for Valentine’s Day, or any splattering of pastel colors that indicate any other meaning of love. 

I desire depth. I desire passion. Blue does not at all convey sadness or any other negative connotation. It only conveys the depth from which one can feel any emotion. And so when I wrote this poem and was thinking about the type of love I wanted to feel, I wanted it to be blue. 

Interestingly enough, if you look very closely at the bottom right of Paris through the Window, you will see a person who has two heads and one heart, the heart being in the hand of this person, and the hand is blue. What I suspect is that the man side of this pairing is blue, as is his hand, but the woman side of this pairing is flesh-toned, as is the heart the man is holding in his hand, indicating that these two are intertwined, perhaps even one. Chagall painted that image a year before Blue Lovers, giving them their own moment to tell their story. 

Chagall certainly had an interesting take on love, one that made me think a lot about why we associate the color in such dreary ways. At the end of the day, the final interpretation is always up to the consumer, so you can throw everything I just said away, and discern your own meaning on every artform referenced in this piece. I did not look up any meanings or other interpretations of Blue Lovers because I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I don’t care what Chagall was intending to say. He could’ve been commenting on politics, society, religion, etc., but this painting meant what it meant to me. 

Horror Movies That Probably Shouldn't Exist

It’s that time of the year again, we have reached the end of spooky season once more. As a big fan of horror movies, this month always seems to go way too quickly. Those Halloween specials on streaming services will soon be gone, taking away that large selection of classics. With that being said, there are a lot of movies out there (whether that be in these specials or not) that are so laughably bad that it is actually entertaining. Sometimes, that’s just what I need after a long day of classes, or even as a break from all of the doom and gloom in all of the other horror movies I typically watch. Those of you who are not fans of horror (or just want to laugh at some dumb version of it), this is for you. If you are interested in watching any of them, I have found them all on Amazon Prime. I’m not sure what that says about good ol’ Jeff’s streaming service, but I’ll let you make your own conclusions there. Now, without further adieu, here are 5 of my favorite terrible horror movies, for all of your Halloween needs!

• Sharktopus (2010)

Have you ever wondered what would happen if you mixed the DNA of a shark and an octopus? No? Me neither. But apparently someone did because Sharktopus is a movie all about the military creating a shark/octopus weapon to help them in combat. Of course, the Sharktopus breaks free and starts killing people, hence the masterpiece that is Sharktopus.

• Killer Sofa (2019)

This one has one of the stupidest concepts on this list. A sofa murderer? What? After watching the movie, I still don't really understand how it works, but I think some killer imbued his spirit in the sofa (sorta like Charles Lee Ray does with Chucky). The kills in this movie are surprisingly creative for an inanimate object, making it an incredibly funny watch. The sofa even has a face that sometimes gives ominous looks to the camera!

• Llamageddon (2015)

For this one, think of a typical alien invasion movie, but with a Llama coming to wreak havoc on Earth. It is a simple, yet thrilling concept. How did the Llama get into space? Why is there only one? Why is it so angry? These are answers we may never have. One review of this movie states, “I will be quoting this movie at my funeral in my memoir one day. That's how memorable it was.” I don’t know how anyone could pass up that experience.

• Troll 2 (1990)

I have to give credit to Danita Mapes for showing me this gem. Troll 2, not to be mistaken for Trolls World Tour, is one of the single greatest films ever created. If it were more well known, I fully believe that filmbros and scholars alike would analyze this movie scene by scene for decades. This one is a family vacation gone wrong, with a boy and his grandfather trying to protect the family from the goblins that populate the town (yes you read that right… goblins… not trolls....).

• Rubber (2010)

I honestly don't know how this one was made, but I am so glad it was. Picture this: you’re at a meeting thinking about ideas for a new movie and someone pitches a murderous sentient car tire. Well that is the entire concept of Rubber. Not only that, but this tire has the special ability to make people suddenly explode. Why? Who knows! This movie makes no sense, but if you want to watch a car tire go on a rampage, this is the movie for you!

Reflections of a 29-Year-Old College Student

I’m still one year away from feeling 30, flirty, and thriving (did I date myself with that reference?), but 29 feels like an oddly decent place to be right now. I always look for opportunities to tell myself I’m getting a fresh start, a rebirth, a new beginning, or whatever you want to call it, but it’s really an opportunity to tell myself I’m going to do better this time around. That could mean eating better, being more organized, reading more, cutting out bad habits, or whatever else I need to work on in this next year of my life. Does it always happen? No, it doesn’t, but I like to have the idea in mind when another birthday rolls around. 

This may sound corny, but each year that goes by opens my eyes to new things. Now, being that I am 29, I have quite a lot of things I’ve learned about life and myself, and I figured I’d share them for this blog post, because, why not?  

No One Walks the Same Path

I’m a little older than the traditional undergraduate student, that’s true, but I’m honestly happy to be here. I actually went to community college right after high school, but I didn’t finish. I found myself at a crossroads one day and I decided I wasn’t ready to commit to an unknown degree. I didn’t know what I wanted to pursue, so I chose work instead, then I chose travel and experience, and more work. Eight or so years later, I finished my associate degree and now I’m here—a senior ready to graduate and head right into more school. Being in school as an older adult has been one of the best things for me—my dedication and motivation are higher than ever. Having a clear goal in front of me drives me to do better in my academic pursuits than I ever have. My full educational potential had never been reached until this point in my life, and that’s even after being out of school for years. In the time I wasn’t in school I’ve learned some extremely valuable life lessons and experience, as well as being able to learn exactly what I don’t want to do with my life or career. Everyone has a different life trajectory, and it can be easy to begin to think that “I’m not where I’m supposed to be” because of my age, but I feel like I’ve uncovered the truth—everyone is where they are supposed to be.

Self-Discovery Happens Everyday

Will I ever stop learning new things about myself? Apparently not. You’d think being this age I might know myself pretty well, and I kind of do, but I’m always learning. I’m a bit of a chameleon, and over the years I’ve changed my hair, my style, my diet, my job, my life trajectory, the way I do my makeup—everything at some point or another. I’ve finally found a hair color that I want to stay consistent with, but I’d be lying if there wasn’t some secret urge to try something else out. I’m always me, but I’m always learning about me, and always changing me in little ways. New people help me realize new things about myself, new challenges help push me further than I thought I could go, and new jobs and experiences teach me exactly where my comfort zone lies and how willing I am to step outside of it. My advice to anyone listening would be to never believe you know everything about yourself. There’s been times where I’ve thought I’d known myself really well, but I still end up being surprised. Human beings are these unique creatures—we’re ever evolving, ever changing, and ever adapting, and there’s no point in limiting myself when I know I can continue to grow.

Routine is Actually Cool

I don’t really have a routine to be quite honest, but I appreciate one. Last spring and into the summer I started going back to the gym with my friend, and we actually had ourselves somewhat of a morning routine. It felt good to have some kind of consistency, even though I didn’t want to get up early to go work out. With my school schedule and work schedule this semester, I just don’t have time, and I miss that little semblance of a routine. My schedule is so weird right now that I’ve been getting home at 10:30 or 11:00 some nights just to wake up the next morning at 6:00 am. This isn’t a permanent schedule, but I’m really looking forward to having a consistent routine in my life again (one day). I’ve been the type of person who has lived my whole life in this state of organized chaos, so it’s been normal for me to wake up at different times every single day, but I’m getting to the point where this chaos of mine needs to be a little bit more organized. Routine is healthy and it helps to have something there to ground me or look forward to, even if the only bit of routine that can fit in is getting in bed by 8:00pm to watch horror movies or read until I fall asleep. 

Writing is my Vulnerability

People that really know me know that I’m not a super open person. I don’t really like talking about my feelings, my fears, my worries, my troubles, or anything super personal. Writing, for me, has been this space to be really vulnerable. I don’t always show people my writing (in fact, I rarely do), but if I write something down in a journal or a Google doc that no one will ever see...it’s therapeutic in some kind of way. It started when I started seriously journaling and then later when I began dabbling in poetry—it just felt natural, like I was opening up to myself in some kind of way. When I write anything, I tend to write in my own voice, so any piece I compose, whether it be fiction or poetry or some random stream-of-consciousness, a good bit of myself ends up in it. I’ve always really loved reading and allowing myself to escape into different worlds, but it’s only been within the last few years that I’ve realized I’ve loved writing too. While I am working on being less of a closed off and secretive person, I really think writing is a helpful exercise in letting myself begin to feel more vulnerable. Even now, it’s in practice, as you read my blog post about my personal life reflections.

Being Outside is Important

I’ve always been an outdoors person, but the last few years or so I’ve become more of an indoors person. Why is that? It’s hard to say, exactly. COVID and quarantine certainly forced me to be more indoors than I would have liked to be and starting my first year of Arcadia entirely online gave me a lot of extra time just sitting in my room in front of my computer. I’m an adventurous person—I like to go places I’ve never been, take walks, go for hikes, explore cities, be on top of mountains, and find obscure things to do and see. It’s always been obvious to me that I like to be outside, but it’s become clearer to me that I need to be outside to really be happy. I love video games and I can spend hours and hours online playing competitively or diving into an RPG, however, too much time in front of screens just doesn’t make me feel like myself. I need that time outside. I need to feel fresh air on my face and in my lungs, I need to notice a pretty leaf or a chipmunk sitting on a rock, I need to hear that gentle silence that isn’t really silence at all, but this quiet cacophony of life. I grew up in a time where there wasn’t social media like there is today, and I didn’t have a smart phone until I was practically an adult. My youth was filled with turning over rocks to find salamanders, running through the woods, climbing trees, and playing whiffle ball with the neighbors. Those things are still important to me, and I’ll still squeal with glee at the sight of a beautiful, slimy salamander. I’m writing this as I’m sitting inside my room right now, and I think now that I’m done, I might just go outside.

The Autumnal Aesthetic

I don’t know about you but with the first day of autumn comes my obsession with getting the autumnal aesthetic perfect. This includes but is not limited to reading thrillers, horror, and mystery novels on a plaid blanket among the decaying leaves, listening specifically to Hozier, and wearing cozy neutral outfits. 

I’m always ecstatic to throw on my fuzzy socks, grab a latte (sometimes pumpkin spice), and settle in to watch a childhood favorite spooky movie. There’s also something about fall that makes me feel like I must live out my social media and organization dreams. With fall came my new and current obsession with Notion, basically an aesthetically pleasing organization app. My obsession with Notion, this is not an ad btw, almost compares to the obsession people had with widgets and customizing their phones. 

But why am I even discussing this? To see if anyone else out there shares this feeling and maybe to suggest some autumnal activities to do to decompress from the stress that school feels to be piling on. You see, I think I delve into the fall aesthetic in order to keep my head above water. Why watch or read horror? To avoid the horrors going on in my life (oh the impending deadlines!). 

So, here are a few ideas and suggestions for you! 

Drawing and Staying Motivated in 2021

I’ve been getting into art again lately.  I go through the same cycle of things I’m interested in, but I hope this one sticks around.  It starts with a spark of interest or excitement in a new subject or skill, and then I spend tons of time on the next new thing in my life.  Then after a little while I usually give up on it.  That’s the way it’s been for most of my life.  

On a more positive note, I have been getting away from this bad habit, and over the past few years I’ve gotten into and continued with (at least for a longer time than usual) ukulele, guitar, and a bit of piano.  The way I changed my perception of these activities and took the pressure off of them, not expecting myself to be good at something immediately and then being disappointed when I was, surprise, a beginner, has really helped with this habit.  I usually look at new skills as more casual hobbies that I’m interested in, and if they stick around, then I try to learn more about them.  I’m still really new at all of the things I mentioned already, but I’m trying to be more patient than I’ve been in the past and recognize that it takes time to develop and improve on a skill.

I’ve been very off and on with art my entire life, using this same awful habit of giving up on things when I’m not an expert, even though realistically I would never be an expert in anything I’ve just started learning about or working on.  This time it happened over last year, during online schooling.  I was really disengaged with the material in most of my classes, and I used doodling (as I called it to make it seem more casual to me) as a way to make myself not hate my room so much (since it had become my classroom for every school day).  And maybe I doodled in a few of my online classes, every once in a while (or every day).  After using doodling as a way to get through the grueling classes, of which I had three classes in one day that were each an hour and forty minutes long, I started doodling outside of class.  I know doodling in class is not the best use of my time and I should have been paying attention, but after almost four and a half hours of classes all in a row it was difficult to be interested in anything that was being taught.  I started just by doodling random things that were simple enough for me to draw, and then I started using reference pictures to sketch things I was interested in.

One of the issues in the past with skills that I wanted to develop, but couldn’t get myself to actually work on was that I don’t think I had enough forms of inspiration to keep me interested in a subject.  Obviously another problem is the way I immediately give up as soon as something gets more difficult or there are more and more days I don’t want to work on something, but that’s something else I’m trying to work on.  Since quarantine I’ve been getting into more new subjects and activities such as playing guitar, learning piano and music theory, video games, music, and tv shows; they all sort of overlap now and they all motivate me to work on one of the other activities.  If I play a video game with a cool soundtrack, I might try to learn a few of the songs on guitar or piano.  If I really like the design of a video game or I like a certain character from a game or show, then I’ll try to draw them.  They all feed into each other in a mostly positive way (though I will say I probably watch too much tv, but who doesn’t).

YouTube is another thing that has helped spark inspiration for working on drawings or sketches.  I watch videos about color theory, drawing with different mediums such as colored pencils or pens, drawing things in one and two point perspective, or really any specific skill that I want to work on.  I also use YouTube as “background noise” while I draw, so if I know I’m going to spend more than an hour working on a sketch idea, then I’ll find videos that will be the “background noise” as I draw.  Other channels that discuss art have also inspired me to work on art more.  One of those channels is Blind Dweller, a relatively new channel on YouTube.  So far they only have six videos, but of the ones I’ve watched I’ve really enjoyed their content.  They discuss lesser known art and artists, usually with a disturbing or creepy background whether it’s because their art has disturbing visuals and meanings, or simply because there is not much information you can find about them.  Channels like these, as well as channels that give advice about drawing in various mediums have helped me stay interested in art.  Since I’m already on my phone so much of the time, and I’m basically addicted to social media platforms like YouTube, it’s nice that I’ve thankfully found a way to be productive on them at least some of the time.

If You Know That I'm Lonely 

The word lonely is always on my mind.

I feel lonely

but

I could never be lonely with that word.

My only companion.

Always there.

Always watching.

Lonely.

How can a word have such a meaning?

How can a word have such a meaning yet it never leaves you alone?

It’s always looming.

In the back of my head.

Sleeping next to me in my bed.

Next to me on the bus.

Why wont it let me go?

Oh Shit, Oh Shit, Oh Shit

It’s come to that point in my undergraduate career to decide what in the flippity fuck I want to do with my life. Grad school applications are approaching with a ferociousness I do not appreciate, and the stress levels have been out of this world. 

Here’s my dilemma: Do I really want to pursue higher education because it’s something that I personally desire or is academia all I know, and my reality will crumble without it? 

It’s hard to imagine a reality in which I’m not learning more, and pushing myself as hard as I can to be the best I can be at whatever it is that I am pursuing academically. I’ve spent my whole life in classrooms, libraries, and other academic settings. My face is always hidden behind a book or a journal or a computer screen, my fingers always rushing to capture my thoughts on paper as they occur. I feel lost just at the thought of living without academia, and without a clear consensus on what I would do in place of that. 

Here’s what I do know: I adore African American Literature, writing and reading poetry, and libraries. I also find myself enjoying American literature quite a bit and analyzing the ways in which writers respond to the changing times, specifically the issues within American society throughout the different eras. 

My problem lies not in what I love or enjoy, but in a career path that allows me to pursue all those passions. 

I know, I know. You’re reading this and probably thinking: Why doesn’t she try to be a professor? That’s the most obvious career path. But as a person who grew up in a working-class family and never had much, the lack of certainty on a position post-grad is very scary. Stability is something that I’ve always yearned for in my career, and the job prospects for English PhD’s right now are kind of horrifying to say the least. I don’t want to rack up even more loans if I can’t have a job to pay them off (I don’t want to rack up loans period but that’s impossible in America). I also don’t want to live in a reality in which all my income, should I get a job in that field, immediately goes to paying off those loans as I struggle to get by. I am also not sure if teaching is something I want to do, though I have enjoyed prior roles I’ve had in my college experience teaching or assisting other students. 

Throughout my college education, all I have done is work my butt off and devote all of my time to my studies. I’ve missed out on social outings. I’ve probably missed out on romantic opportunities, as my mind is always on my writing and my work, so much so that I’m mostly oblivious in this area, at least until the moment has passed and my mind catches up with what my brain was too busy to acknowledge at the time. I’ve missed out on memory-worthy experiences and people. I’ve missed out on human connections. 

Kristina Tripkovic, Unsplash, April 30th, 2018.

In my self-reflective process of deciding what program I want to apply to and where, I stopped and thought about how and why I came to the English degree in the first place. Do I even want to teach, or is that just the most obvious progression from here? Is teaching something that will give me the motivation to get up every day without hating my life?

I love writing stories. I love writing poetry, which I discovered throughout my time in college. Writing poetry is something I enjoy with a passion and is always the form of creativity I go to when I am feeling any emotion intensely. I just love writing. I used to love writing creatively, but I’ve spent so many years writing academically, sometimes I forget why I became an English major in the first place. 

I’ve made the decision to be a professor, to get an MFA, then to just focus on getting an MA, then back to wanting to be a professor all over again in a span of 15 seconds. And I’ve done this a million times over the course of this past summer, and I’ve honestly driven myself insane. 

The overwhelming anxiety of feeling the need to make this decision before August of 2021 ended might’ve given me an ulcer. The reason I felt so pressured is probably the same reason so many other seniors who may want to go to grad school feel pressured—we have our senior thesis coming up, an internship we have to accomplish, and some programs require additional accomplishments, such as a manuscript for the Creative Writing concentration. The list of requirements we have to meet our senior year is stressful in and of itself. Adding several grad school applications on top of that, the possibility of taking GREs and needing to schedule that into senior year, and making sure you can afford these applications, is nerve racking to say the absolute least. 

I’ve always been a high-achieving student. In high school, I wanted more than normal classes, or even honors classes, so I went straight to AP courses, on top of interning, being president, chairperson, or member of many different clubs and honor societies, and volunteering for a local organization on the weekends. Stress is where I’ve lived for the past eight years of my life. 

So, for the first time in my adult life, I decided to make a choice for my mental health: I’m not going to apply to graduate schools during my senior year of undergraduate studies. 

In other words, I’ve made the decision not to go to grad school and to also not make myself feel bad about it. 

Marcel Straub, Unsplash, May 4th, 2021.

Deciding what I want to do with the rest of my life is a huge decision, and if I choose to pursue a PhD in English, the rest of my 20s would be devoted to it. I’m a very dedicated person, so once I start something, I always see it through. However, I think a decision of this magnitude shouldn’t be made under the circumstances I’ve listed above. In addition to thesis, other classes, finding an internship, and the general stresses of everyday life, I also am currently working four jobs—three that are related to school, and one outside of that. 

In the future, I may apply. In fact, I most likely will attend grad school at some point in my life within the next 5 years. I’ve researched the job outlooks of English PhDs, as well as dove into forums of professors who talked about the pros and cons of ascertaining an English PhD. For right now, this is the right decision for me. In the future, that might change. 

This break from institutional academia may only be for a year, as I have been thinking about taking a gap year and applying to different jobs and seeing what I like. I also want to go back to my writing roots and explore the initial spark of passion that drove me into this field—creativity. When I was in middle school, I wrote about this character who still to this day permeates my creative outlets, and I wrote a manuscript of a story for this character during the summer of that year. The manuscript isn’t something that feels publishable to me, but this character’s story, and so many other ideas I’ve had, have yet to be told because I’ve gotten so entrapped within the cycle of wake up, get ready for school, be at school all day, work at school, do homework, go home, do more homework, shower, sleep, and then repeat the next day. This cycle is no longer sustainable for my mental health, so it’s time to take a step back and gain some perspective. 

If my time away from school leaves me empty and I yearn for teaching, I will go back to school and do what I need to do to pursue that career. If I find myself happy writing or editing for a company, then I will see where it takes me. 

No one should feel rushed and pressured about deciding what they want to do with their life. If I’m lucky enough to live a long and healthy life, I want to make sure it’s a life of my choosing, and not what I did because I thought I had to. No one should feel lesser for making a decision like this. 

If any other seniors or future seniors can take anything away from my experience, I would suggest giving yourself a break. Don’t think you’re lesser just because you want to take your time making the best decision for you. Life isn’t a rush to the finish line. As one of your peers, I know it truly feels that way. It feels like we’ve been rushing through life for the past 20 years and wondering when the rush is going to stop. When do I just get to enjoy the ride? 

You can enjoy the ride now and slow things down. I know for my major, a lot of English job prospects don’t require a PhD, like marketing jobs, writing for companies, editorial or freelance work, etc. The idea of being a librarian one day is something I’d consider and that doesn’t necessarily require a doctorate, though I would have to go to grad school. I’m even thinking about packing a bag of my stuff one day and just traveling somewhere else in the U.S. I’d love to visit California in the summer, or Massachusetts in the Fall. I’d love to see the Portland Japanese Garden and visit the Smithsonian. I’d absolutely love to visit my friends and family that live scattered across the country. Right now, those things feel impossible to ever do. But they don’t have to be. The oh shit! panic moments pass. 

Do what makes you happy. Take care of your mental health. And don’t feel bad about it. 

Karen, Unsplash, June 29th, 2020. (Portland Japanese Garden)