It has been a strange week. I had a paper due in one of my classes, so I spent the majority of my week between writer's state (as I like to call it) and reality. Unused to writing on a semester plan, with the great advantage of time, I spent days writing this paper. I would write until I ran out of gas and then step away from my computer. I would come back later that day or the next day and edit. Then I would write on a new topic. Finally, I sat down to edit all these smatterings together into one cohesive paper.
This paper has lingered with my for days now, infecting my thoughts and actions. It has become the underlying discourse of all my conversations. My two best friends here, Hunter and Tex, are in the same class, which somehow raised the tensions. When we weren't writing our papers, we were talking about writing our papers. Unfortunately, we didn't talk about how to help one another, but held our cards closer to our chests. I hope that in the future we'll be more collaborative. That is not to say that in this instance it was a negative thing. This was our first paper in graduate school, which is already a very vulnerable situation. Inviting a "competing" peer to read your paper risks undermining your confidence and theirs. We probably made a good choice in not sharing, even if the motivation was at best questionable. I know for me it was fear based. I can be very insecure about my intelligence and at times, I horde my writing to myself, fearful that it will either confuse or disgust those around me. But, that's what your Teaching Fellow is for (oh god, if any of them are reading this, please pick up on my sarcasm).
Besides all this, it has just been surreal. Lack of sleep, days without coffee (I decided to take a hiatus when I quit the coffee shop), and Foucault on the brain has made life a sort of walking dream. There are moments when I feel like I'm not really here. Almost like I'm watching a movie. As all the characters walk by, their names come on screen and a relational line connects them to someone else, scribbling off in infinite directions.
This is not to mention the matter of the increase in coverage of queer youth suicides lately, which have kept me on the verge of tears (or made me outright weep) for days. I am so saddened by the loss of these young boys and troubled by the questions left in their wake. What do we do about bullying? How has systemic homophobia denied the agency of all the characters in this playing out of power roles? How has the media constructed harassment as a rite of passage?
Yesterday, we had a service on campus for a student organization called Queer Rites. It was an amazing service that brought to light the great diversity of the experiences of queer persons. I am in awe of the words my peers offered and the way their passion or criticism moved me. I was able to offer a blessing and feel blessed to have done so.
I do believe that things will get better. But not because we wait for them to. They will get better because we make this world a better place. This life will get better because we take action to care for each other and ourselves. It is not us against them, or against the world.
It is us together in the world.
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