#then on to grad school

[do-you-know-this-queer-character]

Good luck with your exams!! And thanks for running this blog :D

Thank you! I'm going to have to retake one of my classes but otherwise I did okay I think

[mudwisard]

my trick for getting through grad school is learning to navigate the quadrants with all their nuances

[manhattan-gamestop]

Me explaining why my grades were/are shit

[tumbler-polls]

We decided to publish this survey a second time because, by accident, the first version only lasted for a day.

Please reblog for a bigger sample size!

If you'd like to share your answer in the comments/tags, feel free to use 🫠/💀/🦉 and so on. And comment/tag your degree!

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[historicity-was-already-taken]

PSA for incoming grad students:

You’re about to enter into an abusive, dysfunctional relationship with your field. You will be managed and supervised by people who have no business interacting with other humans. Your academic future may end up in the hands of someone who hates you and will never tell you why.

Some advice:

-have friends and a support system or prioritize having friends and a support system outside of your department. It’s way too easy to get sucked into departmental gossip and drama and before you know it you’re gossiping about how N fucked A’s husband on the couch in the grad lounge and celebrating your thesis defense by shotgunning beer with the guy you’re in a situationship with and some of the “cool kids” while listening to Green Day (I love Green Day)

-yes there are “cool kids” and cliques and social hierarchies in grad school. That shit never goes away

-don’t have casual sex with people in your program for the love of god. Or at least, only do it if both partners are mature humans with good communication skills.

-these people will be your colleagues forever and academics hold GRUDGES

Don’t go in without SEVERAL plans for:

-what you will do when there’s no stable job market after graduation

-what you will do if the program destroys your mental health

-what you will do next if you decide that academia is not the right path for you

List brought to you by: my mistakes, mistakes I’ve watched people make, the fact that Bestie and I spent grad school behaving like the cranky old muppet guys while minding everyone’s business (but still being bad enough bitches to pass our thesis defense[s] with no revisions). My hair WAS full of secrets, man. I knew about aaaallllll of J’s sordid hookups and the deep revenge S took on J2 after she caught him sexting with M.

If you know me irl plz don’t respond with names details or questions about who did what. Text me for that shit I may be older and wiser but I’m still messy.

ETA: all of this said, don’t eschew ALL gossip. Academia trauma bonding is real and sometimes necessary to making it through; and, if you identify as a woman, you NEED access to the whisper network before you end up in the elevator alone with the Department Creep.

[notherpuppet]

Grad school is eating up all my time 😭 so creating more “My Deer Nanny” AU comics will take 4ever. Here’s some doodles from future chapters (in no particular order) 📻🍎

[jellolegos]

twitter meme for fun :)

[izze-art]

med school may be difficult but at least katara has a philosophy ta to rant about the healthcare system to (bonus part is that he’s madly in love with her)

[elena-illustration]

Long time no see! I made another picrew for my friends, please enjoy :)

[caffichai]

Regular Abyssal Hunter downtime activities

[treestomeetyou]

that one person was indeed in labor and the baby’s name is daniel!!

send your congrats to phaby on twitter 💓

[shitacademicswrite]

[belovedbibliophile]

survived my first year of grad school & I have the photos to prove it 🤞

[evelili]

yeah.

[ariasmontage]

September 9, 2024

Week 2 of the semester. Monday really is the longest day this time. Not gonna complain at all. Maybe this is the memory of youth.

(but at least let me get a seat on the subway pls 😭)

(i got a seat as soon as I wrote that! 🍀✨)