One of my friends told me, back in our undergrad days, that I seemed to experience senioritis every single term (he also said I held a world record in existential crises. Both of his observations: likely true). Grad school has been different. There have been the tough weeks, the substantial relief come semester's end, self-doubt in droves, but none of the absolutely brain-damaging burn-out. Until, of course, now.
It seems appropriate enough--I am, after all, in the final final final stretch of my MFA. Still sucks, though. It feels like a full-body mania. I'm jumpy and restless way down in my bones, and I'm also totally exhausted. I feel bored with my work at the same time that I feel obsessed with it. I feel like a mountain lion living in the body of a mouse: energy, furious energy everywhere, and the lack of ability to really do anything with it.
I feel isolated, and I can't tell if it's just physical distance and convenience causing the problem (all of my Oxfriends live way out on the east side, and I live in deep west--makes casual hanging out extremely difficult) or some kind of self-inflicted distance. Sigh, probably both. There are a lot of friends that I'm missing right now, friends spread all over the US, friends in Scotland, in Germany, in Seoul, everywhere. Friends that I want to collaborate with, to drink tea with, friends that Skype and Facebook and Twitter help me stay close to, but not close enough for my selfish tastes.
I'm applying to office jobs right now. Hopefully something will come through. Not only do I need to pay off my loans, I enjoy being in an office. I like doing (some kinds of) office work, interacting with people, collaborating. I do so many projects by myself. I miss having people to do projects with, even if they don't work out. I like to get excited and try new things. I'm not a person that does well with only one thing on my plate. My best work comes when I'm doing ten things at once. Pretty sure this is the root of my burn-out. As much as my novel is my own, a project that is for me and no one else to work on, it's not enough to fill me up. I love my novel most when I also love a comic I'm writing, or an editing job I'm doing. Work is so lonely right now. I'm the only one who can finish my thesis, and that's fine, I don't want help, but I miss the excitement of company, of let's-work-in-a-coffee-shop-or-your-apartment days, of let's-start-a-sex-positive-blog brainstorm days, of impromptu inventing club meetings that end with some promise--however faint--that maybe we will actually make the thing we've invented. I'm thankful for the bit of that I do get here (lor bless you and our Office Wednesdays, Mikaela), but--sigh, practicality and convenience and schedules etc etc. I guess this is why people miss college. I never lived in dorms, but I see the appeal of a bunch of creative, smart people living close to each other. As we all develop our own grown-up lives, move farther and farther away from where we grew up, we're forced to examine our priorities. I'm still struggling with how to reconcile my emotional/social/occupational/everything needs.
My buddy, Laila, made a "life map" recently, and I tried it out, too. There are a lot of question marks.
On the plus side, the depression is well under control (thank you medication!). Makes me feel like I can trust my emotions more when I know they aren't just a really rude chemical imbalance wrecking my brain.