A simple digital painting of a mountain landscape in rainbow. The Pikes Peak skyline is purple with blue, green and yellow landscape-shaped stripes below. Orange and red stripes at the bottom are in the shape of the Garden of the Gods park. The sky is the color of the trans flag (alternating stripes of light blue, pink, and white).

November 21, 2022

Coping (Club Q)

We have mass shootings in America all the time. But it hits and hurts differently, intensely, when your hometown is the one that has become a hashtag, and one of your identities, a target again. I am coping by having a coffee with milk and sugar and fake whipped cream.
Image of yellow flowers against against a blue/purple evening sky.
In February 2020, I wrote a post titled “PhD, Semester 4: An Inventory of Exhaustion.” It was a very long post about being tired. I guess I needed to think and write through this exhaustion, make sense of why I was so drained. Today, in May 2022, I’ve just wrapped
At one point, I decided not to write an advice post on quals. People seemed to have wildly different experiences. I didn’t think I could present my experience as typical; does a “typical” quals experience even exist? I’d also received advice that just didn’t work for me; maybe my advice
In my last post, I wrote about my day-to-day experience taking the qualifying exam (“quals”) in September. As I worked through that blog post, my narrative got mixed up with commentary, recommendations, and half-hearted attempts at advice. Instead of doing a poor job of cramming everything into one post, I
I took my qualifying exams (“quals” for short) September 13-15, 2021. Then for the rest of September, I tried unsuccessfully to write about the experience. It took me four attempts – four separate word documents of brainstorming, notes, and partial drafts – to accept that I needed distance from the
Gold Spa Atlanta
“It’s terrible but I’m not surprised.” It’s been over a week since the Atlanta shooting and I’m suddenly feeling averse to statements about surprise. If I hear one more person describe a horrific event as “not surprising,” I think I may explode. I’m guilty of repeating the “no surprise” line