#bottleshopthoughts (Or, Last Call Part 2)

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(to read Last Call Part 1, click here)

Woodford Reserve Manhattan, the exact same drink I had last time I left a job I loved

I’m sitting at my favorite neighborhood bar, two days before my dissertation defense. This place came to me exactly when I needed it, about a week after I started my PhD program at OSU. Even the bar stool I sat at is still here, empty, but not lonely. I love how this place let’s you feel simultaneously lost and found. There’s a strong possibility I will have to say goodbye to this place, too.

In a little over 48 hours, I will be defending my dissertation, thus ending the chapter entitled “That time I got a PhD”. The more time passes, the stronger the gravity I’m feeling, collapsing my whole time here into mere moments. A lot has happened being here. I had an article published. One of my dogs and two of my cats died. I survived a pandemic, though not unscathed. I fell in love, fell out of love, fell in love again. I caught a bat flying in my apartment. I completed candidacy exams. I broke my first bone. I met people I would not have ever met if it wasn’t for this program. All of these things will soon become memories, ultimately fading away. I’m, like……really sad now. I knew this program had to end, but now I’m here, and everything in me refuses to accept it.

While I was writing my dissertation, I developed a habit- I would read a book that has nothing to do with my studies before starting the writing process. I read so many books. (read about that here) A few days before finishing my dissertation, I read Paul Coehlo’s The Archer. (also, no- I haven’t read The Alchemist) I really liked it. The prologue introduces you to the three main characters- Tetsuya, a master archer who has officially retired from his archery days; an up-and-coming archer who wishes to earn his title; a young boy, the curious observer, hoping to learn the ways of the bow and arrow. The whole book uses archery as a metaphor for life- how to hold a bow, what the act of aiming is, the song the arrow sings as it’s released. I’m at the point in my career where I feel like all of these characters blended together. I’ve officially mastered one sector within my academic field, hoping to become one of the giants I’m standing on the shoulders on, all while holding on to the idealistic, borderline-naïve, worldview that encouraged me to pursue this goal. I like feeling like an amalgam, not sure which I identify with the most at this moment. But, like all moments in life, this book has officially concluded.

I’m sitting at the bar, with my solemn face, and the bartender calls out to me, hoping to wipe my solemnity away like a beer stain. He sees me and offers me a shot of House Punch.

-Oh, I didn’t order this.

-No, it’s cool! We always make sure everyone here leaves happy. Even if you’re here by yourself.

Then it hits me…..

I’m not here by myself.

The lessons and material I learned here will be with me lifelong, as will the connections made. Nothing is actually ending. I will still be the precocious kid who is always asking questions. Only now, I’m way better at finding the answers. More importantly, this is not an end of anything. I will still always gravitate towards my passions. Only now, my politics shaped them to work towards social justice. The friends I made here are connections I have no intention letting go of. They will not disintegrate once I defend. Only now, they are now spread all over the country, even the world. It’s going to take work to keep these tethers in tact. Thankfully, this program taught me what happens when you work hard- it’s all worth it.

Like magic, this one song comes on the speakers. The last time I heard this song, I was taking a walk during my lunch break as I was juggling work with applying to PhD programs. The song “America” by Fear of Men plays.

Lie alone until the dark takes it all
Without a body I am free to dissolve
You became a part of me before I knew myself
You became a part of me before I knew myself

I think we need to rethink the way we think of endings. Unless we’re on our deathbeds, we’re not “at the end”. I’m just trying to find the right phrase to capture this feeling. One thing is ending, but it’s not the end. “A new chapter”? “A Bookend”? “Commencement”? I don’t know……

-LAST CALL!!!!! Last Call for Alcohol

That’s it! This is Last Call- time to close up my bar tab, call a Lyft, get ready to call it a night. I will be hungover tomorrow, but after some morning tea, a walk down my block, maybe some breakfast, I will be ready to take on this new day. Sure I’m tired and depleted of electrolytes, but I’m not dead. Tomorrow is here, ripe with opportunity. I will seize it. Like I did with this program, like I did when I began this whole adventure, like my dad did when he emigrated here. The day after my defense will be a new day. I am ready to embrace it.

Drifting out of reach
America, carry her away.
Drifting out of reach
America, carry her away.

(click here to listen to America by Fear of Men)

What Seeking Infinite Jest Means Part IV: My Unofficial 5th Chapter

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(read What Seeking Infinite Jest Means Part 1 here, Part 2 here, and Part 3 here)

Introduction:

(click here to listen to “Notion” by The Rare Occasions)

The words you are reading are those of someone in the middle of writing a dissertation. It’s an image that is so ephemeral, conjuring up so many different images for so many people. When I imagined what the dissertation meant while applying to PhD programs, I thought it was going to be this exciting period where I could show off my research skills and help humanity through the brilliant words pouring out of my fingers, like Indiana Jones, saving the world through his academic research. This feels more like work. A lot of work. The kind of work where you clock-in, meet your quota and deadlines, clock out, then wake up and do again, over and over. I was never a 9-5 person. l always thought of writing as this creature that needs to be free, that has the power to liberate you. Instead, I write every day, sunup to sundown, where my highlight of the week is on Tuesdays, when they serve peach-flavored iced tea at the coffee shop in the library. The monotony of it all embeds itself into your hands, to the point where you can see traces of the cog you’ve been pushing all day on your palms. There are some days that are good. Some days, you find the right words to the paragraph you’ve been struggling with for weeks. On other days, you find a source that makes the lightbulb in your brain go off, and then pages just churn themselves out. The writing I do with this blog is dedicated to the writing I can’t do in academia. I write what I feel. Today…I feel like venting. I want to pour my feelings out, bleeding all over this page. I sit down and do it, then that somehow also becomes work. Maybe venting isn’t the solution. I stop for a minute, mute all sound around me, and picture myself in a place where I can tap into what I’m feeling. I’m visualizing a park bench, reading, while the thoughts in my head are running on a low hum, operating on a feeling of gratitude. I’m about to complete my PhD from an R1 university, a position I’ve been aspiring to for years. I am so goddamn lucky to be here. And it doesn’t take long to remember how much work it took to get here.

walking on a Tuesday morning

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Starfish Semester

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(click the player above to hear “Chicago” by Sufjan Stevens)

It’s Monday, about 2:30 in the afternoon, and I am lying on my bed, arms and legs spread out, like a starfish resting on a rock at the bottom of the ocean. I say this every semester, but I can’t emphasize this enough…this was one of the most grinding, demanding, exhausting, work-filled, break-deficient, shovel-to-the-face semesters during my time at OSU. It was a lot of work, but it would be disingenuous if I said this was solely the product of my program. I signed up for so much, and I could have said No to several of these tasks. But I didn’t, and now I’m in a constant search for pockets of time in order to get work done. Today, I’m resting. I decided to allocate time after work on Mondays to doing nothing. Most Mondays, I’ll run some errands, catch up with friends, cook an elaborate dish that takes the rest of the evening to make. (chicken piccata is way harder to make than it looks) But today, my body is telling me, If you don’t rest and take time to recover, I’m gonna take that time from you. That ends up becoming nights of crappy sleep, always feeling like I’m catching up, constantly moving pots to and from the backburner. The worst part is that when you’re out of time, you don’t have the chance to really reflect on what you’re doing. I don’t get to ask myself, Why am I doing this? Is this effort all worth it? Am I building towards something, or am I delusional in thinking that, while really, I’m just addicted to overworking myself? I’m resting on this bed, with small traces of lavender and currants from the candle lit in my room. I have the time now.

So is this all worth it? How exactly is the semester going? Do I want to keep getting grinded down by the end of the day? I really have to think about this. Now, I have the time to ask…

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What I Think About When I Think About Haruki Murakami’s “What I Talk About When I Talk About Running”

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First Pic of the Fall Semester

One of the strangest feelings academia produces is waking up, looking at a blank page, and beginning to write page one of two hundred. I’m not even sure how to describe it- intimidating?  flummoxing? disheveling? discombobulating? A lot of “dis-” words come to mind. I’m in my fifth and final year of my doctoral program, teaching and continuing my job as an editor for a student magazine, all while in the thick of dissertation writing. With the end of my program around the corner, I would love to take a day off to just sit with my feelings and ask myself, What do I want? Where do I see myself going? What contribution do I wish to make with the training I’ve received during my time at OSU? The problem is that every moment I can spare has now been allocated to the dissertation writing process. The whole process feels all-encompassing, like swimming in jell-o. I have no idea if I’ll ever make it out, or if I’m even doing the thing I’m supposed to do to get out. There are days when you are on an upswing, where the words flow out of you, sentences like strings of brilliance, like you were born to do this. But those periods do not last long, only to then face the dreaded blank page again. A good day is when writing happens. My biggest problem was getting there. Continue reading →

Lying Flat in the Park

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Lying Flat in the Park

(A One Act Play)

[Lying Flat (tangping; 躺平) is a social movement happening now in response to China’s post-industrial period. The movement grows out of youth protest against a brutal work culture, often referred to 9-9-6, from 9am to 9pm, 6 days a week, by not participating in it. By “lying flat”, you are physically, literally, and metaphorically detaching yourself from the demands of late-stage capitalism. A fascinating synopsis can be found here. The following is a monologue, an introspective journey, flowing from thought to thought, on the exegesis of academia and the viability of its future through the act of Lying Flat, as our protagonist acknowledges the pain in his upper shoulders, in one act] Continue reading →

I PASSED MY EXAMS!!! (Part 3 of 3)

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In this three-part series of posts, I shared my experiences studying for candidacy exams. There was a point where I seriously thought this was never going to happen, stuck in a timeless space where goals and deadlines had no meaning. It was that last month where I started to feel grounded, like a survivalist mode kicking in, ready to focus. All of the doubts about not passing reached a peak the week before, until it was over. And then…I passed! I learned so much in that last month, spilling over into the weeks leading up to writing this post. This is Part 3 of 3.

(to read Parts 1 and 2, click here (1) and here (2)

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My Medical Narrative: Part 2 of 3

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In my last post, I talked about studying for exams and what it’s like to study medical humanities. As much as I enjoy reading the books on my list, it’s really easy to feel disconnected from the text when you are not suffering from the illness or trauma the author is writing about. The more books I read, the more I thought about the narrative I wish to share. The only problem was that, according to me, I didn’t have a medical narrative to share. Then I remembered that I actually did, but it didn’t hit me because, well…I really don’t like talking about it. After reading so many of these books, I wanted to try. And “try”, not as a scholar of medical humanities, versed in the theoretical applications and a specific vocabulary from my studies, but just as a guy sharing his story. This is Part 2 of 3.

(to read Part 1, click here; to read Part 3, click here)

This is going to sound really dumb, but I promise it’s true…

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Studying for Candidacy Exams During a Pandemic (Or, Why I Love the Show Community): Part 1 of 3

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I just finished my third year of my doctoral program at Ohio State. There’s so much to write about, like teaching online during a whole year of quarantining, studying for candidacy exams, and moving into the phase of dissertation writing and the academic job market search. I’ve also been meaning to write about my academic focus on my blog for a long time now. Medical Humanities is a really interesting study, but I’ve always felt like I can’t just “write” about it, as if I’m describing what I had for lunch. I want people to feel what it’s like to study this field. For that, I’ve decided to write about my experience with all of this in a three-part series of blog posts. I hope this series gives my readers a sense of how my program is going, and I’m happy to chat about it if you have any questions. This is Part 1 of 3

After finishing coursework last year, I moved into the candidacy exam phase of my program. I complied a list of over 150 books that reflect my major and minor fields. (Major: Medical Humanities; Minor: Post-1945 American Literature, with an emphasis on graphic narratives) This sounds treacherous to some, but for me, this was one part of my program I was really looking forward to. Ever since I became a full-time student (by “full-time student”, I don’t mean starting my program at OSU; I mean back to when I decided to quit my job to pursue a career in writing, and taking Intro to Literature classes at my community college), I’ve always felt like I was years behind my colleagues when it came to being familiar with the literary canon. It feels like not that long ago, I didn’t know who William Faulkner was, or even what the word “canon” meant. Every summer, I would spend hours on hours at libraries or parks, sitting at a bench, reading the classics and other books that I felt I should be familiar with. I actually really enjoyed it! It felt like I was enriching my knowledge, climbing to the top of the shoulders of giants I’m supposed to be standing on. Now, I get to gain the specialization I’ve always wanted through doing just that. I am now posed to apply my strengths while in my program.

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First Day of Spring Semester, 1/11/21

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Just finished my first class of the Spring semester. There were some Zoom mishaps, which ate up a bunch of time, but we all got to know each other, and we talked about the class and our course theme “Empathy as a Vehicle for Critical Reading”. I’ve had a lot of First Days as a teacher, stretching back to CSUN and GCC, so today’s class wasn’t too significant, until I realized something…

Today is exactly the halfway mark of my program. It’s mind blowing, feeling like the time between the start of my program now feels both tiny and gigantic. It’s awful that in the middle of this, a pandemic is ravaging through the country, and I don’t wish to minimize its impact. I wish for little more than just being on campus, in the classroom with my students, then moving to The Thompson to continue working, then meeting up with friends for Happy Hour after, but we’re all indoors, doing our part to stop further spread.

All I can say at this point is that, for what it’s worth, I’ve really enjoyed the last two and a half years being here, meeting awesome people and continuing my research on cutting edge theory and pedagogy, and I look forward to making the most of the remainder of my time.

To the next Two and a Half Years- Cheers!

Drinksgiving 2020

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Years ago, when I was working on my undergrad degree, I learned about Drinksgiving. I worked at a local bar on the weekends, a place made up of mostly locals and regulars. I’ve been to plenty of bars, but working at one, and being an aspiring writer, you observe things really quickly and very astutely. Every Wednesday shift before Thanksgiving, I noticed two distinct clienteles that would show up: large groups of friends, made up of thirty-somethings from out of town seeing each other again, and the regulars, staying extra long and being a little more jovial than usual. I didn’t get it at first- why are they here? I’d rather be at home with family or a gathering at someone’s home than this place. But the more I watched, the more I noticed how they were together. They didn’t just like hanging out here; it’s like they were observing something. They stayed really long, drank way too much, yet no one ever got belligerent, and some even brought food from home for their friends, and for us working that night. (they also tip really well, so I’m not complaining) It took a couple of years to realize that this “a thing”: getting together with friends, celebrating with those we care about, becoming a kind of buffer for the next day. It made a lot of sense after working a couple of these shifts, then even more sense when it was my turn to come back home this time of year. The holidays, for some, can be difficult, dealing with unpleasant family history, hoping everything goes well, which in turn becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy for disaster, while unpacking how the year has gone, including the highs and lows.  Drinksgiving is a kind of time and space where you don’t the need to perform a kind of happiness, where you can share something free of judgement, where you could be around people you want to be around with instead of those you feel obligated to. I think we could all use a Drinksgiving night. I think after this year, we are all searching for that space.

The first half of the semester has now come to a close, and I reached some important milestones, but working through a pandemic, relegated to working from home (something I’m not a fan of yet accept it necessity), it’s hard to tell if the semester is really over, or if the last nine months was a big blob of time. My days consisted of waking up in the morning and getting dressed, only to show up to a class made up of black squares with names of students I rarely saw face to face. I’m currently in the “reading for candidacy exams” stage of my academic program. A year ago, (and I know I’m gonna get slack for this) I would have been really excited to spend hours in the library, reading books from a list I curated. I envisioned myself surrounded by pillars of books, devouring them, one after another like a hungry wolf. I love reading, and I love my studies, so to spend hours solely reading works well for me. Instead, I’m confined to my apartment, where I’ve always struggled to get any work done. I’m not a homebody. I am much more comfortable studying at a library, calling it day after, and walking home, leaving my work behind me. I can’t do that here. I wake up, and I see my work station, about three feet away. It’s not a pleasant feeling. It’s hard, and as versatile as my work experience is, I feel like I’m never going to get used to it. Some days after working in front of my computer for several hours, I feel like I need to wash the blue light off of my face, or find some errand to run just to get away from my desk. On top of all of this, I really missed seeing my friends, colleagues, and mentors, some I haven’t seen in months, and a few quitting their program. I try to find some highlight of the semester to focus on when I blog, but this one has been extra challenging. That’s where Drinksgiving kicks in.

Due to spikes of COVID-19 infections in both Ohio and California, I stayed at my place instead of going back home and seeing family. It’s a bit difficult knowing that I have to wait another God-knows-how-many more months not being back home, having to hear about my friend’s and family’s life events through a medium like social media. Asking people to get together is borderline-problematic, as we’re all trying to social distance. As Thanksgiving came closer, I remembered about Drinksgiving, and it was a perfect compromise. I set up multiple Zoom meetings with friends and family, seeing and catching up with them, sharing stories and really dumb jokes, all while drinking profusely. (that was mainly me, but that’s beside the point) My favorite part was keeping up with friends while trying to figure out time zones. (I stayed up until three in the morning once!) Sure, we would all love to see each other instead of using video conferencing, but like navigating a pandemic, we are making the most with what we have. Unfortunately, I don’t have anything remarkable to say about this semester, or sage advice that is a product of working through what was probably the most difficult semester of my program. But it’s okay, because like the spirit of Drinksgiving, the point isn’t to wallow about the coming day, but to be around those you’ve waited months to see, in an effort to give yourself emotional space before the coming day. The semester came to an end, and I got to see friends and family. I have little to complain about.

Today, the first day of the new year, I’m doing the thing I’ve been working towards for years: writing what I want to write. I don’t know what I’m doing tomorrow (I heard it’s going to snow again), but I think it’s going to be a good day. Below is a slideshow of screenshots during my Drinksgiving gatherings. We all laughed, shared, reflected, grieved, rambled, and drank. Also, some of there were taken after the semester was over and during the holiday season. (one was taken on my birthday- Happy Birthday to me!!!) Pandemic or not, I’m glad we found some time to stay festive, and to celebrate a holiday that is now very close to my heart, Drinksgiving.

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Happy Holidays to all who read this, and even those who don’t. I hope 2021 brings you nothing but happiness, joy, love, and a renewed perspective for things to come 🙂