What is strange about being in the last year of this ordeal is that I know, I finally know, that something has to happen. I will either be working or I will be attending graduate school, one or the other. Last year around this time I was moving and working, so this time around, I have this odd period of oozy silence where I’m not sure what to do with myself. The summer session was difficult and I got through, but I didn’t just jump to writing fiction the second the session ended. I slept, mainly. Then I did some thorough kitchen and bathroom cleaning, which has always been therapeutic for me. On the sleep end of things, I let myself go on a few anti-depressants to help me just unwind…seems like cheating but it works. I’m too much of an adult to try and hide such things, but the matter hinged primarily on how my plans to go somewhere for my break were foiled when I ended up having to spend all the money I saved on fixing that car. Next year, that car is going in the garbage. At any rate, I was left decimated financially, and so I just decided to sleep…and sleep I did.
The period I am experiencing now is a breather then. A week long breather that, actually, I have plenty to keep me occupied. I have to hone in on application data, write letters of intent and statement, and figure out a thesis for my sample work. For the sample work, I am finding that scholarly writing, in and of itself, has to be tripled checked…by other people than myself. It’s like the people who read these works are so finicky that I can’t believe what’s happening every time I get a paper back…continually bickering about syntax, points made, quotations, references. The papers have to be spic and span, and for this paper I’m getting ready to send off, I’m going to have to enlist an editing staff, of which I have many resources thank goodness.
On the personal end, I still have this lingering black cloud of emptiness that seems to follow me around, though oddly, I was met with a few people doing a fine job of luring me into conversations with them these past few weeks. My self-perception as a walking Frankenstein must not be accurate then, and I should give myself some credit. I think I’m at the end of my rope, that’s all. I need a sense of belonging, something to live for, someone to care for, and I have these things missing…and a man, ask anyone about this, is lost without his career.
The next few months are crucial, so for a few days I will relax and look over some details I need to attend to, and hopefully, with a lot of skill and a little luck, I’ll be able to get to the next step without acquiring any new visible scars.
Right now, I am blogging while letting Akira run on the DVD player, eating a few gummie bears, and I am trying to sense for any imminent danger, but the lookout seems placid, like the cool birds that flutter beneath the sunshine before a pulse pounding storm roars through the village. I hope good things happen after it blows over.