My Medical Narrative: Part 2 of 3

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)

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

Continue reading

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

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.

Continue reading

First Day of Spring Semester, 1/11/21

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!

What Seeking Infinite Jest Means Part II: Completing My First Year of My PhD Program

Thompson Library

(to read What Seeking Infinite Jest Means Part I, click here)

A young man walks out of the Thompson Library at OSU, with a smile on his face, borderline smug, after completing his first year of his PhD program. He’s texting his friends and making plans for the break with an air of confidence that is only granted to those who have marked off accomplishments years in the making. The world is at his fingertips, walking as if he has been granted access to a kind of knowledge reserved only for the most privileged. Perched from a rooftop about a hundred yards away, invisible to everyone else, I can see this young man and his gait. I watch from the shadows, silently observing, attempting to predict his next step. I look at his jovial walk, with something between envy and resentment, and let out a whisper: “What’s going to happen to you?”

Continue reading

Spring Break Catch-up and Program Update

Generational Synthetic by Beach Fossils
(click play to listen- no quarters required)

Today is Tuesday, March 12th, the Tuesday of Spring Break at OSU, and I’m doing the thing that I enjoy the most: writing. It’s strange to start a blog post dedicated to what life is like in a PhD program about how much I love writing when that’s all I do- I write papers, I read books for research for future papers, I’m always thinking about the next writing project, and it’s almost impossible to read a book, and not think to myself, “I can write about this”. It’s important for me, to write, in this silly blog, because I love it. I’m trying to dive into writing like a young aspiring poet attending his first open-mic night. I’m sharing this rather intimate insight because, well……..I’m really damn busy. This is partially why I haven’t written a new blog post in so long. I have several drafts that were supposed to turn into really nice stories and observations about PhD life, but they’ve all been brushed aside.  But I don’t wish to speak ill of my program- that’s not what this blog post is about. Rather, I was hoping to share a bit about how my program is going. And it’s definitely going. Continue reading

Luz Por Las Nubes

(para leer en español, haga clic aquí)

A couple of months ago, I stepped out of the country for the first time in over twenty years. My parents were planning a trip to Mexico and wanted me to come along. As great as it sounds to go out of the country, I mulled over this for a long time. It wasn’t the flying or awkwardness of visiting other people that bothered me- to be frank, I’ve grown so distant from my family and roots from years of studying and focusing on my career. I didn’t even know if I wanted to go. While studying was always a convenient way to describe this distance, it feels like it has always been there. Growing up, I never liked a lot of things my family liked. Music, certain foods, or even speaking Spanish- I spoke so little Spanish around others. Today, when I speak Spanish, it sounds like an alien taught himself Spanish, then taught me, and gave up halfway. When my mom asked me about the trip, she made me deal- if I get my passport, she’ll buy my ticket. (Who the hell is going to say no to that?) I got my passport, booked the tickets, and we were scheduled to go. It came at a really good time, too. I just finished sending out a stack of applications for doctoral programs. (read all about that here) Something about sending out those applications and putting my future in the hands of cloaked readers made stepping on a plane and heading to unfamiliar territory sound really enticing. It ended up being me and my mom, on our way to Mexico. We boarded, flew away, and I didn’t look back because I didn’t want to.

Continue reading

“Luz Por Las Nubes”

(to read in English, click here)

Hace un par de meses, salí del país por primera vez en más de veinte años. Mis padres estaban planeando un viaje a México y querían que fuera. Por muy bueno que parezca salir del país, reflexioné sobre esto durante mucho tiempo. No fue por volar o la incomodidad de visitar a otras personas lo que me molestó. Para ser franco, me he distanciado tanto de mi familia y mis raíces en los años de estudio y de centrarme en mi carrera. Ni siquiera sabía si quería ir. Si bien estudiar siempre fue una forma conveniente de describir esta distancia, parece que siempre eh estado distanceado. Al crecer, nunca me gustaron muchas cosas que le gustaban a mi familia. Música, ciertos alimentos, o incluso hablar español; hablé tan poco español alrededor de otros. Hoy, cuando hablo español, parece que un extraterrestre aprendió español, luego me enseñó y se rindió a mitad de camino. Cuando mi madre me preguntó sobre el viaje, ella me hizo tratar, si obtengo mi pasaporte, ella comprará mi boleto. (¿Quién diablos va a decir que no a eso?) Conseguí mi pasaporte, reservé las entradas y estábamos programados para irnos. También llegó en un buen momento. Acabo de terminar de enviar una pila de aplicaciones para programas de doctorado. (Lea todo al respecto aquí) Algo sobre el envío de esas aplicaciones y poner mi futuro en manos de lectores encubiertos hizo que pisar un avión y dirigirse a un territorio desconocido suene realmente tentador. Terminó siendo yo y mi madre, en nuestro camino a México. Abordamos, volamos, y no miré hacia atrás porque no quería.

Continue reading

Last Call

There’s a small bar on my commute home. I found it a few weeks after I started working at GCC and getting used to my new route. They used to serve a really cool line of liquors by a distillery called Art in the Age. They had some really great ones, including Sage, Root, Snap, and Rhubarb. Unfortunately, the distiller discontinued this line, becoming a small reminder that even things we love come to an end.

Today was my last day of teaching at Glendale Community College. It’s a job I’ve come to love, feeling very much part of this community. I met a lot of really good people, and had the privilege of of working at a campus that supported me and brought me in front of a diverse group of young learners, at a period in their academic careers I was in not long ago. I’m going to miss waking up to the best job on the planet- teaching students to think critically. Some days, it was a miracle if one student asked a question; other days, I left home feeling hope for this generation, so sharp and witty but also empathetic and tapped into the concerns of the world, in a way I couldn’t comprehend at their age. I’m never going to know if I made a difference. My only hope is that they left my class a bit more as thinkers, and not afraid to be honest, or to try something new. I wish nothing but the best for them now, whether I have a part in it or not.

My music selections finally come on in the jukebox. The song Destroyed By Hippie Powers by Car Seat Headrest starts to play.

I am freaking out in my mind
In a house that isn’t mine
My end goal isn’t clear
Should not have had that last beer

It’s more than what you bargained for,
but it’s a little less than what you paid for
My bowtie’s come undone,
my microphone hangs
limp on the mic stand

Tell my mother I’m going home,
I have been destroyed by hippie powers
Tell my mother I’m going home,
I have been destroyed by hippie powers

This next step is not a loss; this job is a chapter which must come to a close if I wish to continue on this new career path, no matter how I feel. Indifference, however, has never been my strong suite. I’m drinking a Manhattan with Woodford Reserve Bourbon. One of the first times I had this was at my first out-of-state conference. It reminds me about how long it took to get here. All the years of studying, writing, holding on to something I care about. And now it’s here. It’s time for my next step.

“Hurry up, please. It’s time”, the bartender says.

I take one last swig, get my tab, and slide off of the stool. My Lyft is waiting outside. A small voice says to cancel it, and to stay as long as possible. I step in and lean my head back on the headrest. We’re on the way home, with highways crossing overhead in a million directions.

Tell my mother I’m going home,
I have been destroyed by hippie powers
Tell my mother I’m going home,
I have been destroyed by hippie powers

Acknowledgments

I am still elated about the news: I’m going to attend Ohio State University for my PhD!! This is really exciting news and I am still trying to process it all. While I was applying, I knew that while it was me writing my essays and sending my applications, it wasn’t a solo venture. It quite literally took a village. A lot of great people helped me get to this point and I wanted to write a post dedicated to them. Here are the people that helped me get here: Continue reading

Midnight Postscript  

Hello readers! I’m writing this micro-post at about Midnight on a Monday in December. Santa Ana winds are stampeding through my neighborhood, and the cold snap of December is kicking in. I’m currently at a bar, finishing up my first drink, in the thick application submission. I submitted my first application this morning, wondering all day if there was anything I missed. I ask myself, Is this one going to be it? I don’t have an answer. My intuition sees it as misplaced will. It’s done, and there’s no going back. I also took the GRE exam today. Once the gatekeeper of my fate, I now see it for what it is- a formality. It’s just one part of this process, and whether I’m good at it or not, I have to do it. I did my best, and I owe this exam nothing. What matters is that it’s not deterring me from applying. Not again. Now, we wait.

I spent the last few weeks working on my application essays. How do you fit your entire academic history in two pages? This has always eluded me, until this year, when I decided to do what I’m good at- pouring my heart into every word, down to the last character. I printed it out it out, and it felt like it weighed ten thousand pounds. Like a marble statue, I have most of it done- now, I’m working on those last final detailed touches that will make it perfect.

Negroni by candlelight

The majority of my applications will be submitted in the next two weeks. This means I will do nothing but work on making them as immaculate as possible. A part of me already sees me celebrating. Another part of me wants to crawl into a hole, hoping to escape the outcome. Doubt lingers, bleeding through the words of support from loved ones. I want to do well, but at this point, it’s no longer up to me. I’m eating, sleeping, and dreaming application season, putting my future in the hands of graduate departments.

I’m in a Lyft, on my way home, and the song playing has a chorus that most appropriately speaks to the next couple of weeks:

I can not give you everything, you know I wish I could
I’m so high at the moment
I’m so caught up in this
Yeah, we’re just young, dumb and broke
But we still got love to give

While we’re young dumb
Young, young dumb and broke
Young dumb
Young, young dumb and broke