Dekilted

The official explanation, the one being disseminated as we speak to community leaders and important elected figureheads, and verified by NASA engineers, is that I entered a wormhole, a disruption of the space-time continuum, in which I experienced the passing of many months as only a few days of completely uneventful "normal" time. The exact ratio is 205 Gregorian calendar days : 3.64 wormhole days, which coincidentally means that my last blog post occurred just as I was entering said wormhole and therefore I cannot actually be held accountable for the lapse in posting.

Not my fault.

The unofficial answer, available only to close friends and readers of this blog, is that things got pretty tough last summer and I needed a break from talking about my feelings.My dissertation work was ramping up, my money was running out, I was homesick, lovelorn and claustrophobic from all of the festivals pouring into Edinburgh, and I just didn't want to talk about it. I pushed through the last two months of the program, hating many things about Scotland but mostly how all the pub prices had been raised for the tourists, and when I got back to the States I just...didn't. I did not communicate. Don't take it personally, Internet--I didn't get back in touch with any of my real-world friends, either. In fact, I'm pretty sure several of them still think I'm in Scotland...

Well, fooled you! I'm back in Portland, back at the temp agency, back to wondering what the hell I am going to do with my life. If my masters year was supposed to help me figure out what my future plans are, I might need to look into a refund of some sort. I learned I still love history and all the reading, research and writing that goes along with that, but I don't know if I can commit my life to a system that seems unsustainable and rapidly degenerative. Academia costs too much for too little measurable result, and I am living proof of that. So I don't know. A PhD would be fun and fulfilling in the same way that my masters was, but if I'm already swimming in debt and overqualified to do any of the negligible work that's available out there, I really don't want to add doctoral baggage to that load.

I started this blog to record my year abroad and all of the experiences that accompanied moving halfway across the world and away from everybody I've ever known. I guess I kind of whiffed it at the end there, but really, I just spent the last two months writing my dissertation and bitching to everyone who had the misfortune to ask me how I was doing. Really, you all should consider yourselves lucky. You were at least spared that.

I think this makes me a hero. You're welcome, citizenry.

Being back in the States has been equally difficult, at times. I haven't wanted to write because sometimes I'm so afraid and so angry about what my options have become here that if I start expressing it, I just won't stop. I worry about my own chances of having a satisfying life here, and I worry that my experiences are symptomatic of a more widespread breakdown. I just can't help wondering...where are we going to find ourselves as a society in thirty years?

But that's too depressing. Let's end this thing on an upside...I'm sure I can find one somewhere...wait for it...no, that's a candy wrapper...AHA!

This is currently my absolute favorite website. Sorry, New York Times. This also probably more accurately describes my mental state and prospects than anything written above.

Well, it's been real. Friends, lovers, international countrymen, I wish you godspeed and good luck. Signing off Scottish style...

Cheery Bye!