Let's just get this out in the open, here where (relatively few) people read this: I'm paranoid. Like really, really paranoid. I can read into things where there is no subtext to be had; on the flipside, I can also be unbelievably thick and not read into conversations and actions, subtexted so loud the person sitting at the other end of the room would probably get it. I live my life in between those two extremes; on the edge of sanity.
The first stage of the portfolio 'process' is complete: the actual writing, editing and formatting of it. The next stage is proofing and I've handed it over to two very, very reliable people both of whom have never read the 'project', most especially not in its entirety. The final stages involve professionally printing and binding the material, before handing it over to the department and the long wait after. It's got me wired, that's for sure, although I really thought once I'd stopped writing and tweaking and shit, the eye twitching would stop along with the schizophrenic sleep schedule. They're both interrelated I see now, because neither has stopped. I'm awake at 7.50 AM which would be fine, if I'd slept for over three hours at night, wasn't fasting and didn't have to meet up with friends at 3. There's no point sleeping now, because I have to go and start finding out about those binding options I've been sleeping through (sleep at 7 am, get up at 3 and you don't really have time for much). Yes, I like my eight hours of sleep. But I can function on three and still, surprisingly, not crash until 7 am the next day.
In the attempt to distract me from writing more on Gray, I've decided to start reworking some of my short stories presented during the course of the program, but that were written in '09. There has been a massive improvement in the way I'm approaching writing after this, weighing out the words, the idea, the story, structure, all of it. I cared about all of that before too, sure, but it's on an entirely different level now. Also looking toward getting my work out there, which means submitting to lit journals, both online and in print, joining the hundreds of other MA/MFA grads probably doing the same thing. That I eventually want to go into the industry at some point, is also probably not an original thought.
I'm not sure the distraction is working. If I could just blink once, without the damn twitch I could breathe easier but the irony is of course, the more I think about it, the more it exacerbates the situation. It's a twitching recursive loop.
The light at the end of the tunnel is that there is light at the end of the tunnel and that my return home will instigate a year of solid work, before (hopefully) transitioning into another graduate program and then onward, to whatever waits on the other side. If you treat creative writing programs like elaborate forms of writing retreats, except (as is the case with many US programs) where you have to teach too at some point and/or work for their lit journal, then they're very attractive. That's the only way I think of them, although at some point I'd like to attend another writers' retreat like Ty Newydd, where I don't have to idle away time on the internet, or worry about cooking or any of that shit. I can just focus on getting through the project and then leaving once it's all over, and then maybe coming back again for more. I work well in isolation. At the end of the day, isn't that what writing really involves? Lots and lots of isolation. But, and this is a big one, I do need to interact with people. I may not always be good with that (see first para), but it's going to be a social exercise and a challenge that I'll probably have to contend with for the rest of my life.
Not an easy person to get to know (see the gazillion blog posts somewhere here addressing that, in some form or the other).
But it's 8 am now and I've done my blog post for the day (or the week, judging by the past). One last observation before I leave though: I understand now, why so much of my work addresses family issues. It's because my form of rebellion has largely been against the familial culture I was brought up in. That and how dear I hold family. Never would have thought much about it if I hadn't read it in Paul F's recommendation letter.
So here, at the end of the year, was it all worth it? The answer is in applying for another graduate experience: would I really be putting myself through that process if I didn't think it was?
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