F I S S I O N - Why the hell do you hurt yourself for this?

Got to stolen century in my relisten and started tearing up at work because of magnus carving the duck. Just me in the back room, crying over the dish sink for normal reasons.

One of these days. One of these days, I will figure out what the hell makes the tipping point beyond which either a) there’s socialization that I feel insulated from and kind of numb about and too tired to pursue, or b) socialization where the very notion of so much as expressing one (1) internal thought or emotion suffuses my whole body with adrenaline and blaring Nope instincts.

So I think I'm over my Obey Me Phase or like at least over Nightbringer because it's Season was shit but just you know food for thought...

Aint it funny how MC is now completely isolated from other humans/their friends/family/pets?

Like my friend and I were talking about it and like imagine MC has HUMAN/MORTAL family and friends that they talk to every time they were separated from the brothers. Like whenever the Immortals really tries them or pushes them they can go to their human friends for like a palate cleanser and a clear head/remind themselves and ground them to the reality of their situation/support from NOT blind lemmings. Like sort of remind them that they're still human and not on the same playing field as immortal Demons/Angels/Sorcerers

But now in Nightbringer that's literally stripped from them; MC has NO ONE outside of the Brothers/Immortals they're literally FORCED to bond with their circle of dysfunctionals and its like now you are stuck in that toxic friend circle because literally your circle of support hasn't been born/exist yet. That's fucking horrific.

No wonder MC is far more clingy and annoying in Nightbringer than they are in OG; Every lesson is a chip away at their original personality and sanity to replace it to the codependent creep MC is now lol.

i'll be honest i've been having a little of an existential crisis since getting my graduate school acceptance.

in the opening to teaching to transgress, bell hooks talks about how when she was offered tenure she fell into a spiral. and for me, i thought that getting my acceptance to my master's program would help but if anything it's only made me feel terrified that i'm doing the wrong thing with my life.

i'm a budding sociologist and kind of by nature of that my work is tied up in activism; even moreso when my entire body of research is about my diasporic community and ways to improve our standing, the histories that brought us here, the future trajectory of our community. growing up with crippling anxiety, i've strayed away from having strong opinions, from upsetting anyone too much. growing up as a southeast asian immigrant, i strayed away from being noticed too much at all. academica offered me that space to form those opinions, and i think there was some power in that: for once i was encouraged and even rewarded for my years of quiet observation and the pent up rage and injustice i've locked away in response. naturally, academia became my safe space and i decided to pursue grad school and a career in academia. but as i see myself moving forward, i increasingly realize that as a person of color in academia, especially with the particular subject matter i've chosen for myself, i kind of need to step into that spotlight i've been so afraid of. and especially when those opinions will carry so much political weight, so much responsibility, those anxieties i've carried with me since i was little, that unfamiliarity with being seen is weighing down on me so much and i feel like i'm suffocating.

a few months ago i attended an event in my diasporic community hosted by a local activist group. they were extremely supportive and interested in my research and asked for more insight into what research like mine looks like. at the time my study was still in ethics board purgatory so i didn't have much progress to share with them, which i understandably lamented about. one of the members, who shared with me previously how they had been disillusioned by academia and thus dropped out, remarked as I outlined all the bureaucratic barriers that exist in academia: "You see that's the problem - I could go out into the neighbourhood and ask people those questions right now, put them together, distribute leaflets or organize a rally, and it would all happen so much faster and without this red tape." at the time i only agreed - mostly because i first read this as sympathizing with my academic exhaustion - but recently i've been revisiting those words as a question about if i'm really doing the right thing with my life, bigger questions about the purpose of my work more generally.

last week i attended an incredible talk by a journalist visiting from my home country who documents the human rights abuses happening domestically. as a qualitative researcher, and particularly as an urban/community sociologist, i was interested in the subject of her talk which was pertaining to building community through journalism. i was wondering if i may be able to 1) learn more about my country's politics and 2) learn more about how my work might facilitating community building. but what i walked away with was a growing discomfort in my stomach as that activist's words returned to me during that talk - this journalist was doing admirable, incredibly valuable work. the work was timely. it was immediate. it was influential. then what of my work? i've been working on my undergraduate thesis for eight months. this week alone i've spent over twelve hours hunched at my desk painstakingly transcribing interviews for analysis. and for what? to present at an undergraduate conference? to have it tossed into a sea of uncited papers? at the end of the talk a professor raises her hand to ask how academia and journalism can partner together to work towards a common goal. the speaker's response was geared towards the support they've received from quantitative researchers' data. as a qualitative researcher, what makes me different from a journalist besides a fancy university title and years' worth of institutional bureaucratic barriers my work must pass before publication? and beyond that, will it ever even be cited at all? i hoped to speak to the speaker afterward with my question, but they promptly had to leave. i walked back home and stared at my wall for a while.

two weeks ago one of my classes i teach for hosted a panel with activists from various diaspora. one student raises their hand and asks if one panelist, an iranian woman, feels afraid about the possibility of being targeted and killed for her activist work to which she calmly responds that she is expecting it. i feel a chill go down my spine as i wonder if i should be that selfless too. later during office hours a student shares with me that he's starting a project in partnership with an activist group to make critical race theory and asian diasporic history accessible beyond the ivory tower to laypeople. i wonder if i should be doing that too. with every moment i stand in front of these folks i feel like i'm standing up against everything that my work is not doing. i should be making this work accessible. i should be making this work faster. i should be ready to die in defense of my work. this guilt chokes me like a noose and with every moment i spend lying awake in bed thinking about it i string myself up higher like a flag for the world to laugh at. look at me, another useless scholar with impostor syndrome.

when it comes to the kind of work i do, i recognize that academia without activism is nothing short of ego boosting and extraction. and yet at the same time we're asked to somehow distance ourselves from political opinions so as to maintain the objectivity of our work. when i see the advocacy work done by fellow students on campus, i increasingly feel like a phoney intellectualizing work that's happening in real time on the ground that myself and my colleagues are removed from. this and my years of anxiety, and the fear around activism generated by being raised by parents from a country that has targeted academics for their politically provocative work have concocted the perfect storm of existential crisis, paranoia, guilt, and a deep seated desire to disappear. i feel useless in my work, helpless in my desire to be a part of an activist scene, and hopeless about my impact as a human being all at once. cue a pathetic image of some tortured scholar locked away in an ivory tower wiping their tears with sheets of gold leaf or something while the world burns outside. woe is me.

i brought these thoughts (or at least these thoughts as they were half baked) to one of my professors previously and he told me that i need to stop thinking. that i need to focus on what's immediately important to me: finish my thesis. get my bachelors degree. so this week during my midterm break i tried, i really did. i dove back into my old hobbies. engaged in some self care by spending time with my friends, exploring the city. and as i've done so i've realized - i'm so happy. so, so happy to be doing my hobbies. and that's just left me increasingly wondering if i'll ever claw my way out of this hole i've dug for myself: when I look at my instructors around me i see their work life balance wrecked. i see their unsustainable salaries despite all the incredible work they do and all the extra time they sank into their extra years of education (i recently learned that the published faculty salaries in our university's financial report are actually inflated, so the salaries are in fact much worse than I was led to believe and believe me, my expectations were already low - and this is at a T40). i wish i was kidding when i say that there are instructors i've known that began teaching during my first year and who i've slowly watched have the light drained out of their eyes over the last three years.

is this my destiny? to forever feel this way? to sink years of my life earning poverty wages as a TA and RA, delaying when i will finally settle down, sinking my family's money into a education for a job that won't make that money back unless by some miracle i land a tenure track position out of my phd? and all that knowing that there's a shortage of jobs for the number of phds in my field? and all of this knowing that there are folks out there doing work that's actually on the pulse of what's going on, more timely, and without the hierarchical nature of academic research?

do i think i'm going to find any of the answers i'm looking for right now? probably not. but i just feel the shadow of my future looming over me as i'm committing to grad school and i don't know what to do about it. i wake up every morning with a weight on my chest and when i think about it i can't breathe. maybe bell hooks really is a lot more relatable than i thought.

okay, i’m genuinely curious: do people find me intimidating?

If I had to describe both [in my comics], I would say Hell is like working for a huge corporation that treats you like a number, but your department has a really rowdy party culture to deal with the stress and you are all friends outside of work

While Heaven is a rich high society social network of governors and heiresses and billionaire philanthropists who will pay PLENTY to settle a disagreement in order to keep their names out of the papers, and are quite gracious with doing favors simply so that they can remind you later on that they were so generous, so won't you please consider doing this one small thing in return? thank you~!

.

and if all the people who told you one day it won't hurt all the time and there will be a sunny day and you will be able to notice how beautiful it is were right. what then.

i just think if a company has to tell me "you might not know if your PTO has been approved until the day of" that means its time to hit da bricks

Weird fucking end of the day, y'all!

I've got a progress pride flag pin and a little round ace pride flag pin on my backpack. The progress pin has been there long term but even the ace pin has been on there for probably a year now. I've gotten exactly one chill "hey me too!" in that whole time (nice!)

So ofc it's the day I'm drop dead tired, I'm talking brain absolutely fried, need to get home asap, lay on the floor, and recalibrate type of bone tired. Ofc THIS is the day a coworker I'm walking out of the building with decides to ask what the ace pin is

I WOULD LKKE TO KISSS MY GIRLBOYFRIEND!!!!

🦋

also more odds & ends orville info & more not Not orville/phil info as well:

"In Steinkellner’s version of Summer Stock, Jane Falbury (Danielle Wade) and “Pop,” her father (Stephen Lee Anderson), are struggling to hang on to the family farm. Their farm is one of the few in the Connecticut River Valley that hasn’t been absorbed by the Wingates, whose holdings completely surround theirs.

The widow Margaret Wingate (Veanne Cox), whom son Orville (Will Roland) aptly describes as having eyes “as cold as death itself,” plans to absorb the Falbury farm by the simple expedient of having Orville marry Jane. After all the two kids had decided they were engaged in first grade!

Enter the prodigal younger sister Gloria (Arianna Rosario) who has been seduced by the lure of the Great White Way. She returns to the farm bringing along Joe Ross (Corbin Bleu in the Gene Kelly role), the director of the show that will make her a star, its composer Phil Filmore (Gilbert L. Bailey II), and the entire company. She has generously offered the company, which can’t afford rehearsal space in New York, the use of the family farm’s barn. Sister Jane reluctantly agrees to the intrusion with the proviso that the thespians will double as farm hands.

As rehearsals progress, Phil discovers that Orville, a bit of a doormat who has been raised with the understanding that he will never have to work, is a musical wunderkind. He is enlisted to work his magic on the show’s score and begins to blossom.

Widow Wingate takes umbrage with all this and vows to shut the enterprise down. Fortunately, the cold embers in her soul are stirred to renewed life by her encounter with Montgomery Leach (J. Anthony Crane), the has-been ham enlisted to give Ross’s show some cachet, so all might not be lost.

[...]

They make this Summer Stock a veritable feast of nostalgia. I was especially taken by the amusing way Steinkellner used Jackie Gleason’s theme song “Always” to further widow Wingate’s plot to get Jane and Orville hitched.

[...]

Orville, who has found personal liberation in show biz, is accorded a moment that reminded me of a similar scene in the musical version of The Producers. In a triumphant declaration of his emergence from under his mother’s thumb he exults, “I’m in the theatre! And I love it!” The audience loved it, too.

[...]

As director, Feore has elicited some wonderful performances, especially from subsidiary characters. Veanne Cox is splendid as Margaret Wingate as is J. Anthony Crane as Montgomery Leach, the faded matinee idol. Will Roland (Orville) and Gilbert L. Bailey II (Phil) both have wonderful moments and their intense professional friendship is one of the show’s highlights."

INTENSE PROFESSIONAL FRIENDSHIP you say....and also ofc everything about orville and wanting to be a musician and being in the theatre and he loves it sounds so good. i love it

I was trying out variations on colorways for aubree's outfit and, with a few of them, realized that her outfit has trended slightly less colorful over time, and specifically less yellow (originally a green and yellow striped vest, then a green vest over a yellow short sleeved shirt, and now possibly a white shirt and green vest, with only small amounts of yellow embroidery). this wasn't intentional, but nonetheless, the concept that, as the adventure has worn on, she's outwardly losing color-- and specifically in favor of browns and whites, the colors associated with the halfling god of death-- is compelling to me. I mean, I suppose if I had been doing it on purpose, the shadowfell arc immediately following our literal deaths and mysterious rebirths would have been a really good time for the most muted palette... but, then again, aubree was still relatively fresh then, confused and traumatized but also still powerfully and stubbornly alive where it counts; vibrant, burning, shining light into dark corners just by existing. but the more we learn, the heavier things weigh, the fewer outlets she has, the less she feels like she can relate to the people who should understand better than anyone... she's still righteous and angry, but she's also just... sad, and tired, and growing more tired the more she feels like she has to keep herself together for everyone else. and gradually, quietly, her colors are washing out.

i think my optometrist broke at least 5 laws today