Medias Res

There’s this episode of Scrubs where Elliot discovers that a big part of what makes her so miserable is that fact that she never stops talking about her misery.

Although on some level, I believe it may be more honorable to muddle through your misery with quiet musings of immeasurable wisdom, I took the path better trodden.

For the past five months, I did what I actually do quite well by now: I grit my teeth, put my head down, and bore it. The sad truth is that I am not strong enough to endure both hope and despair at the same time; or, perhaps I am indeed that strong, but my already sapped reserves could not find the strength to speak and write about the hope I found living alongside despair.

As you can see, I’ve already been overrun by metaphor.

On a personal and professional level, I am coming to find that these past two years mean very little to my potential employers, and as you may infer from my last post, this has also been difficult.

I’m not sure when or where the stories from the past two years will come out, but I like to think that they will emerge once I am removed from the situation. While for some, writing is an act of catharsis; I usually find that for me, writing is an act of summation and understanding. I find it hard to write when I am confused, in medias res. I prefer the story: beginning, middle, and end.

With three weeks left of the semester, I am near the end, but still close enough to the middle that I lack the clarity to tell the story of my last five months. The story requires a careful balance of hope and despair, but for now, I will speak and feel no misery.

Dad asked, "What happens when the carpetbagger goes home?"

She leaves again.