Adaptation.

In the movie Adaptation, Charlie Kaufman struggles to adapt a book for the screen. His struggle at adapting the book becomes a part of the screenplay, and in essence, he writes himself into his own movie. At this, he says, “Oh no.”

I have decided what my thesis will be – it will be my blog. At this, I say, “Oh no.”

Unfortunately, due to all the everything else I’ve been working on, my thesis draft due date came and went. Not that I didn’t know it was due, but more that I had no idea what on earth it would be.

It wouldn’t be poetry – as that’s not at all what’s coming out in my writing right now. It wouldn’t be the watercolor language and visual art – there’s not enough time, and I’d want to develop it and experiment with it more. And so, like Charlie, so consumed with the struggle of artistic production that the drama of that struggle became his body of work, so it is with mine.

Or, at least until my thesis advisor rips me another one on Monday.

This, is part of the problem of the honesty and visibility of this type of artistic forum – you may recognize yourself in these pages. But, so be it.

To catch you up on nearly a month absence from this daily blog, … well, i’m not entirely sure how to do that. But, I will say that I did miss this. I know that my ego loves it, but I know too that I love it – and, some of my friends love it too. I like this style. It works on the level a friend suggested I write: “You should write the way you speak.” I don’t know how to do that in “poetry,” but I know how to do that here.

The requirements for the thesis are as follows:

The thesis should be a minimum of 48 pages of creative work. In general, most theses average between 60-100 pages. The thesis should consist of the best work you have written while at school. You are encouraged to write a thesis that is risky, investigative, and confident.

I’m pretty sure that the work I do here is investigative, confident in its honesty to my wavering confidence, and risky perhaps in the unabashed woo-woo spirituality of it. And, likely, risky in that I let you know much of how I process the world, with all my foibles, fears, shenanigans, and humor. – That feels pretty risky (and thrilling) to me.

So, after a series of tense emails between my thesis advisor and myself, in which I was accused of “not taking this seriously enough,” I will be meeting with her on Monday following my submission of the first 3 months of this blog.

The irony, and the motherfucking craw sticker of her accusation, the thing that wounded me the most, was her assumption that I wasn’t doing any work.

On poetry, no, she’s right. On every other goddamned thing, for fuck’s sake, YES. I have been working my ASS off to address, face, and work through every goddamned thing that is holding me back.

EMDR with my therapist: check. Working one on one to get my financial life in order: check. Clearing out the boxes from New Jersey that contain the diaries of a madwoman and a sad child: check. Seeing a holistic chiropractor to address physical manifestations: check.

The truth is, I have been doing A LOT. And when her email came through, as raw and vulnerable as I’ve felt with all these processes going on, I was thrown WAY overboard. Suddenly, what someone else thought of me meant more. Suddenly, I felt that all of my current work was worth bunk. That my experience was being invalidated.

And that, for me, dear reader, is my very worst trigger. To feel that my experience is not valid, that what is happening for me is not important, or indeed is not happening at all, is a VERY old, and VERY strong catalyst into despair.

Did she know any of this? No. Did I let her know that I was unsure about my thesis? No. Does she have any idea whatsoever of any of the other work that I’m currently doing? No.

So, is it reasonable, therefore to assume that from her point of view, I wasn’t doing much? … Yes. Stupid perspective, Yes. 

It still hurt. And I’m still showing up anyway. I’m going to hand in the work I have. The work that I’ve written here since November charts a course, not of my daily lunch, but of my daily struggles, successes, progress, hope, and failure. Of my relationships, my loneliness, my gratitude, and my attempts.

This blog is the best work I’ve done while at school, because, ultimately, it has the very most of me.

Thank you for reading, and welcome back. :)