Captain's Log, Day 16: I'm a Master (Not a Pokemon Master, But Still a Master)

Date: May 15, 2020

Time of post: 11:50 PM

Quarantine Day: 61

Last Song I Listened To: “Ahead of Myself" by X Ambassadors

Last Person I Communicated With: Mikayla, Molly, Noelle, Gina, and Dustin (Graduation Zoom!)

Last Thing I Ate: chicken potstickers (Graduation Dinner!)

Last Thing I Read: student essay revisions (lol #GTALife)

Current Mood: weird and nostalgic

One Thing I’ve Accomplished Today: went to WalMart

One Thing I Want To Accomplish Today: writing for fun

One Reason I’m Stressed Today: really need to figure out summer/fall job plans

One Reason I’m Happy Today: treated myself to Graduation Lunch from Panda Express, my parents sent me a graduation card, Zoomed with the cohort, got so many sweet congratulations messages

Dear Apocalyspers,

Technically, this assignment is over. I did my 15 entries. But I’ve enjoyed this so much that I want to keep it up. (It’s funny, Dr. Tatonetti said that our posts only needed to be around 250 words each because that’s how many words fit on a double-spaced page, and this assignment was meant to be equivalent to a 15-page final paper. With that criteria, my last, like, 3 posts combined are at least 15 pages.) Maybe one day 70 years from now, my grandchildren will find this jump drive and plug it into a “vintage” laptop and see all these posts. You know, our equivalent of finding our grandmother’s and great-grandmother’s diaries from World War II and stuff?

Took some socially distant graduation pictures last week.
My mom cried when I sent them to her.

And today…well, today is a day to document for the history books, because, today, I “graduated” with my M.A. in English.

It’s so surreal. I still can’t really believe it. It feels like just yesterday that I was getting my acceptance letter. I cried so much. I was nervous when I saw “Kansas State University” in my inbox that I made my best friend open it. Then, when I finally read it, I had to reread it a half-dozen times, because all I could see was “Congratulations,” and then my brain shut down. I literally couldn’t process the words because I was so excited. K-State’s program was the program I always wanted but never dared hope for. It checked all my boxes in ways that no other program did. I came so close to settling for a different school, and I get chills when I think about what I would have missed out on if I had done that. Moving halfway across the country has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it’s been worth it to be here, studying what I love with the top people in their fields. My mind is boggled, and my heart is full just thinking about it.

I mean, the ending wasn’t idea. In a Facebook post, Dustin called this, his third graduation (high school, undergrad, and now graduate school) “the end of a trilogy, of sorts. And, like most trilogies, this final installment didn’t quite stick the landing.”

I can’t say I disagree.

We wore masks because I'd rather laugh than cry. #MillennialHumor

The Jonas Brothers released a new song today (happy graduation to me!) called “Five More Monutes.” It’s a love song—Nick is definitely trying to get Priyanka to stay in bed (a very similar vibe to “OnlyHuman” when he says “Only getting up to close the blinds, oh / I'm praying you don't change your mind / 'Cause leaving now just don't feel right / Let's do it one more time”)—but the chorus just fully encapsulates how I feel about grad school: Give me five more minutes / I’m not finished loving you / I don’t wanna end it when we’re just beginning.” I was telling my mom about it on the phone, and I got choked up—throat tightening, eyes watering, the whole shebang.

Because what I wouldn’t give for just five more minutes with my cohort.

If I had five more minutes—real minutes, not Zoom minutes or socially distant minutes—I’d give each of them the biggest hug without worrying if one of us had been exposed to COVID-19. I’d let them have a sip of the new coffee from Radina’s. I’d toss my “Comfort Pillow” at them, and we’d laugh about something that happened in class. I’d casually tell them that they’re doing great and that I’m so proud of them as they headed out the bullpen door. It would all be so mundane. But what I wouldn’t give for a little “normal.”

Here's what my desk looked like before I cleaned it out
earlier this week. It was Umbridge-themed, with cat
plates and everything.

I try so, so hard to love every minute of my life, because I know that tornadoes can tear up a town in a matter of minutes and that pandemics can shut down countries indefinitely, but there are even things that I’ve taken for granted—like the sound of laughter from 007. Or calling down the hall, “Mikayla, are you there?’ because I couldn’t be bothered to walk down to her office. Or going to Nick and Noelle and Katherine’s office for “a change of scenery.” Or leaving sticky notes on everyone’s desks just because I miss them or they’ve had a long day. And all our walks to the Union—sometimes two or three times a day—that always ended with me getting coffee or ice cream when I didn’t mean to. (Oh, man, this is prime Call Hall ice cream time, and now I’m extra mad!) Those are the little things that I didn’t think I’d miss, but I do.

The most special part of my graduation day has been seeing all my fellow graduates posting tributes to our cohort. I’m used to being the one with all the feelings, the one who writes long, sentimental letters, who makes elaborate graduation gifts (this year was motivational canvases made with old calendar pages), who posts mushy things on social media—but, this time, Lexi made a PowerPoint with pictures of all of us and little messages. Molly made a YouTube video with the sweetest song (as Noelle said, it’s the perfect Anne/Dianna romantic friendship song). Mikayla tagged me in a post. Dustin wrote me a beautiful letter that made me sob and gave me a copy of his Hogwarts/KSU cohort crossover fanfic.

I don’t feel weird or “too much” or out of place. I feel like I belong with them. I feel loved. I’ve said it a few times, but I’m so lucky to be a part of this cohort. Being with them feels like the stars all aligned. I know that I was meant to know them.

And with this experience behind me, I do kind of feel like the odds are in my favor.

Katie

Katie Cline, M.A.

Magister Katie Cline

Captain's Log, Day 15: Taylor Swift Gets Me

Date: May 6, 2020

Time of post: 11: 35 PM

Quarantine Day: 52

Last Song I Listened To: “King of My Heart" by Taylor Swift

Last Person I Communicated With: ChLA Group Chat (Dustin, Savannah, and Lexi)

Last Thing I Ate: earl gray tea

Last Thing I Read: The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline

Current Mood: energized, inspired, and righteously angry

One Thing I’ve Accomplished Today: put contacts in for the first time in forever

One Thing I Want To Accomplish Today: finish reading The Marrow Thieves

One Reason I’m Stressed Today: so many decisions need to be made soon; goodbyes are coming (yep, same thing as last time)

One Reason I’m Happy Today: watched Taylor Swift’s Miss Americana documentary with Dustin and Savannah via Netflix/group chat tonight

Dear Apocalypsers,

Hold on to your red lipstick! This post is all about Taylor Swift!

I will be really honest. Taylor has been in my life longer than she wasn’t. Her debut album came out in 2006 when I was 10-years-old. I’m now 24-years-old. That’s 14 years of Taylor Swift.

And I’ve loved every second of it, from Country Taylor to Pop Taylor to Angry Taylor. I even loved Cats (2019), people! And tonight, for the first time, I watched her documentary, Miss Americana (2020) on Netflix, and now I am so full of genuine love and respect for this woman that I’m (almost) speechless.

I won’t start at the beginning (*cough, cough* December 13, 1989 when Taylor Alison Swift was born). I won’t even start with her first album (October 24, 2006)…or the first Kanye West incident (2009 VMAs)…no, I won’t even go into the feud surrounding his disgusting video for “Famous” (which I won’t even link to because he doesn’t deserve the YouTube views, but here’s an article about it)…I will mention that it all works out as of a few short weeks ago, because of course it does because #TaylorToldtheTruth, and she turned one of the lowest points of her life into a 3x Platinum album and a record-breaking tour…oh, and there was also the sexualassault case that she won in 2017 against a radio DJ who groped her, but that’s not exactly what I want to talk about, either…and don’t even get me started on the Scooter Braun/Big Machine/owning master recordings thing.

I want to talk about the fact that Taylor Swift is a person.

I tend to be very passionate about things. I’m a “go big or go home personality,” and I don’t do things halfway. And I love Taylor Swift…and Emma Watson…the Jonas Brothers…Ed Sheeran…you get the picture. In undergrad, I could basically cry on command if I thought about Emma Watson ever speaking to me. (I know how creepy that sounds.) There are some people that I’m just starstruck by the thought of, but I had a revelation during the early days of quarantine (maybe even the beginning of the semester), and I’ve kind of been chewing on it ever since: the more interviews I read and the deeper I dive into these celebs and their work, the more abhorrently disgusted I am by the music industry, Hollywood, and people in general. I mean, from the heads of studios down to the fans, there are a lot of really terrible human beings who just seem to forget that these uber-famous people are just…people. And that breaks my heart.

(TRIGGER WARNING: EATING DISORDERS AND BODY INSECURITY ARE TALKED ABOUT IN THE NEXT SEVERAL  PARAGRAPHS)

Like, Taylor Swift has ruled the music world for a solid decade: over 300 awards, 10 Grammys, 2 Albums of the Year, AMA Artist of the Decade, Kids Choice Awards, BMAs, Brits—the woman basically has it all. And she used to starve herself because she would see paparazzi pictures of herself that she thought she looked fat in. To say I sobbed is an understatement. Even listening to her talk about it during the documentary, you could tell it was still an incredibly hard thing for her. She talked about how she considered feeling like she was going to pass out during a show was just normal. She talked about the slippery slope of eating disorders and how no one sets out to have an eating disorder and how it just kind of happens. She also talked about how society is insatiable when it comes to women’s bodies: “There’s always some standard of beauty that you’re not meeting. Because if you’re thin enough, then you don’t have that ass that everybody wants, but if you have enough weight on you to have an ass, then your stomach isn’t flat enough. It’s all just fucking impossible.” (Side note: Taylor Swift saying “fuck” is my new aesthetic.) She compared her brain to a TV, telling herself to “change the channel” if she started thinking intrusive thoughts about her appearance and that “we don’t do that anymore.” I can’t even imagine the emotional strength that takes.

Like I’ve said before in this blog, I haven’t (and still don’t) have a great relationship with my body. There are little comments that will stick with me probably for the rest of my life—little insignificant things that mean less than nothing to the people who said them. I remember being ashamed of my weight for the first time in 3^rd grade. Third grade. I was probably 8-years-old. (So, body insecurity has been in my life longer than Taylor Swift and only a year less than the Harry Potter books. Think about that.)

When I was 16 and was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes, I stopped eating carbs because I was terrified of my injections. It drained all my energy, but, boy, did I lose weight. (I basically did the keto diet before it was trendy, and that’s why I’m against the keto diet.) I remember how great it felt when people at church and school told me how skinny I looked—not “healthy” or even “good,” given my recent weeklong stay in the hospital or life-changing diagnosis, but “skinny”—with huge smiles like it was the greatest thing they could say to me. I had a shirt I dubbed my “skinny shirt” in my own mind because it was ruched and fitted at the waist, and I always got told I looked skinny when I wore it. My no-carb “diet” went on for about 6 weeks. I was falling asleep at the table. Thankfully, I decided I liked food more than I was afraid of needles (and that’s saying something!), and I was so sick of feeling listless, but I often think about how differently that could have ended for me.

My weight has been something that I have good days with and bad days with all the time—sometimes both on the same day. And, in the doc, Taylor says, “I’m a size 6 instead of a size double 0. I mean, that—that’s not how my body was supposed to be,” and that is an incredible revelation for her…but I couldn’t help think, “I wish I was a size 6.” Because the way that 5’10” Taylor Swift carries a size 6 body sure looks like a 00 to 5’4”, size 16 me. But I have to stop myself when I think those things, because I know that that’s just something that’s been ingrained in me. Instead I remind myself of the actual truth: Taylor is beautiful; Lizzo is beautiful; Adele is beautiful; I am beautiful. (I don’t have time to talk about Adele right now, but news just broke of her recent weight loss, and there are some news outlets and individuals who are just praising her dramatic weight loss since she came into the spotlight, and, honestly, it’s disgusting and ignorant and flat-out dangerous.)

A reminder that Adele's weight loss means nothing about you, about the culture, about anything (this coming from a celebrity profiler, mind you), and that thinking that it contains any significance at all is another way we seek to control women's bodies.

— Taffy Brodesser-Akner (@taffyakner) May 6, 2020

(OKAY, DONE WITH THAT TOPIC. I DO HIGHLY RECOMMEND MISS AMERICANA IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN IT. HER DISCUSSION OF EATING DISORDERS IS FROM 28:40-32:20.)

Besides how she’s expected to look, Taylor talks a lot—a lot—about how she was expected to be. Even growing up, she always wanted to be “good.” She opens the doc talking about how she thrived off praise and that was a lot of what kept her going. She wanted to be liked. She wanted people to like her and her music and her story, and at the tender of 15/16, she had record execs telling her what a exactly a “good girl” in the music industry looked like: be quiet; don’t talk about politics; don’t cause any drama, and really don’t talk about politics. And Taylor kind of traces how she started to feel unsettled by her “America’s Sweetheart” image as she got older, met and befriended LGBTQ+ people, and experienced firsthand issues like equal pay for women and sexual harassment in the workplace. So, before, the 2018 midterm elections, she spoke out against Tennessee’s Republican Senate nominee Marsha Blackburn’s policies—and about the worst thing that happened to her reputation was that Donald Trump said he liked her music “25% less.” (Blackburn did end up winning the race, but, at one point in the doc, Taylor reads  a news article that says over 51,000 people registered to vote nationwide in the days after her statement, more than the numbered who registered in the entire month of August 2018.) And I love the conclusion she comes to toward the end of the doc: “I want to love glitter and also stand up for the double standards that exist in our society. I want to wear pink and tell you how I feel about politics.” (Elle Woods would be proud, Tay!)

We have this weird dichotomy where women—and people in general, but it’s especially true for women, I think—can only be one thing, and certain “things” don’t mesh, like glitter and activism or pink and politics. And that’s something that I’ve had to process through in my own head. Like, I love stuffed animals. I still sleep with one that I’ve had since I was 2, and there’s an overflowing basket of them by my bed. My favorite color is glitter, and I’d paint my walls pink if my apartment would let me. But there are times when I’ve felt like that means I can’t be other “opposite” things. Like me loving soft and sweet things means I can’t be a “serious” scholar or a “professional.” And, most days, I know that’s a ridiculous notion. I can write (and have written) important and nuanced and serious papers while propped up against my giant stuffed unicorn named Susan. I don’t have to choose. Most days, I know that. But I love having a Taylor Swift quote to reference now for when I forget.

Okay, we’re 1600 words in and counting, and that’s enough and not enough space devoted to Taylor Swift. But I want to leave you all with this quote, the one she closes Miss Americana with: “I wanna’ still have a sharp pen and a thin skin and an open heart.” She’s coming out swinging in her 30s, guys. She’s had enough of the petty jabs at her “oversharing” in her songs. (You want to drag her about calling out John Mayer in “Dear John,” even though there’s a clear argument that the song is referencing a “dear John” letter? How come Ed Sheeran didn’t get the same flack for his song “Nina”? Harry Styles—the world’s favorite modern rockstar—has openlyadmitted to writing “Carolina” about a woman named Townes, whom he name drops in the song.[Don’t get me wrong; Ed and Harry are wonderful artists and great songwriters, but they haven’t been called out for the same kinds of thing that Taylor does, and that’s not fair.]) She’s had enough of the slut-shaming about her dating life and the bullying and the pressure to be something that someone else dictates to her. She’s taking everything that society has deemed her weaknesses and is turning them into her strengths. She’s stepped into the daylight, and we better be ready for it.

Until then, may the odds be ever in our favor,

Katie

via GIPHY

Bibliography:

Coscarelli, Joe. "Taylor Swift's 'Reputation' Sells 1.2 Million Copies in Its First Week." The New York Times, 21 Nov 2017. https://www.nytimes.com/2017/11/21/arts/music/taylor-swift-reputation-million-sold-billboard-chart.html

Devoe, Noelle. "Directioners Found the Girl Harry Styles Wrote "Carolina" About and She's Lucky AF." Seventeen, 18 May 2017, https://www.seventeen.com/celebrity/movies-tv/news/a47330/directioners-found-the-girl-harry-wrote-carolina-about-and-shes-gorgeous/

Dockterman, Eliana. "'I Was Angry.' Taylor Swift on What Powered Her Sexual Assault Testimony." Time, 6 Dec 2017 https://time.com/5049659/taylor-swift-interview-person-of-the-year-2017/

France, Lisa Respers. "Adele lost weight, are we allowed to praise that?." CNN, 6 May 2020, https://www.cnn.com/2020/05/06/entertainment/adele-weight-loss/index.html

Grady, Constance. "Newly leaked footage shows Taylor Swift and Kanye West talking 'Famous'." Vox, 21 March 2020, https://www.vox.com/culture/2020/3/21/21189239/taylor-swift-kanye-west-famous-leaked-phone-call-kanye-west-is-over-party

Kreps, Daniel. "Kanye West Storms the VMAs Stage During Taylor Swift’s Speech." Rolling Stone, 14 Sept 2009, https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-country/kanye-west-storms-the-vmas-stage-during-taylor-swifts-speech-83468/

"Last night was mad real: Kanye's new video depicts nude Trump, Taylor Swift." The Guardian, 25 Jun 2016, https://www.theguardian.com/music/2016/jun/25/kanye-west-famous-video-donald-trump-taylor-swift

Miss Americana. Directed by Lana Wilson, Trendo Productions, Netflix, 2020.

Rushe, Dominic. "Why Taylor Swift and Scooter Braun’s bad blood may reshape the industry." The Guardian, 23 Nov 2019,  https://www.theguardian.com/music/2019/nov/23/taylor-swift-scooter-braun-amas-old-music-masters

Sheeran, Ed. “Nina.” X, Atlantic Records, 2014.

Styles, Harry. “Carolina.” Harry Styles, Columbia Records, 2017.

"Taylor Swift's Reputation Stadium Tour Breaks Record for Highest-Grossing U.S. Tour." Billboard, 30 Nov 2018, https://www.billboard.com/articles/columns/chart-beat/8487606/taylor-swift-reputation-stadium-tour-breaks-record-highest-grossing-us-tour

Captain's Log, Day 14: I Come Back

Date: May 2, 2020
Time of post: 7:35 AM
Quarantine Day: 48
Last Song I Listened To: “Don’t Let It Break YourHeart” by Louis Tomlinson
Last Person I Communicated With: Mikayla Sharpless
Last Thing I Ate: spaghetti earl gray tea
Last Thing I Read: The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline
Current Mood: emotionally loaded
One Thing I’ve Accomplished Today: I’m writing this at 6AM; I’ve literally done nothing; yesterday I did dishes and baked brownies
One Thing I Want To Accomplish Today: vacuum; read for fun; write
One Reason I’m Stressed Today: so many decisions need to be made soon; goodbyes are coming
One Reason I’m Happy Today: Last night I found out that I won the Graduate Student Service Award!

Dear Apocalypsers,

It’s been nearly two weeks since my last entry. I think I needed time to recharge. Everything has been emotionally draining lately. I guess I didn’t realize how much isolation was taking out of me until schoolwork started to pick up, and then I was dealing with all my internalized stress and exhaustion plus end-of-semester schoolwork.

Repping my Ravenclaw pride back in 2016 before the
Cursed Child release party. 

I’m a massive Harry Potter fan, so I relate a lot of my life to the books and characters. That’s how I know, very firmly, that I’m a Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff mix—a Ravenpuff, if you will. I’d be Sorted into Ravenclaw, though, because I really believe in those values for myself: wit, learning, creativity. Ravenclaws have a tendency for being perfectionists and bookworms and academics; they’re sometimes daydreamers; they’re usually creative in some way, and they’re usually pretty high achievers. That’s what I strive for in myself, but I have the heart of a Hufflepuff: loyalty and hard work and friendship and love and acceptance. Hufflepuffs love comfort food and keeping the peace and doing what’s right and making sure everyone is taken care of; they usually have a soft side and avoid conflict (unless it’s one of their loved ones being wronged). And that’s exactly what I try to put out into the universe.

My undergrad graduation photos even featured a
stack ofPotter books and my McGonagall wand! 

So my Hufflepuff heart hurts a lot right now. My Ravenclaw mind knew that quarantine would catch up with me eventually, and I think it finally did. That glass bowl shattered, and I did, too. Not that other people really noticed. Heck, I didn’t even really notice until the last 24 hours or so when I started to feel better. I definitely don’t feel great, but I know what I want to do to get back to a good place, and my inner-Ravenclaw loves being able to have a plan. If I have a plan, I can work with it. I can make it happen. 

I’ve been taking in a lot of creative projects over the last 12 days. I’ve been reading—books, blogs, fanfics—both for class and for fun. I’ve been listening to a lot of music (mostly Taylor Swift, but I’ve also branched out into some new-to-me artists like Maisie Peters), and I’ve been watching a lot of creative shows on streaming services. (Part of the reason I’m up right now is because I watched the first 5 episodes of Next in Fashion on Netflix.) Subconsciously, I was feeling so empty, so I think I needed to refuel with the things that bring me joy, and when I finally tried to fall asleep around 4AM, I felt the need to create, something I haven’t felt in weeks. That’s how I can tell that I’m getting into a better place. So I decide to write this post instead of tossing and turning in bed. At least this way I can check something off my list.

But I’d lying if I said I’ve been on a consistent, upward trajectory, because I haven’t. We’re all grieving right now, and grief isn’t a straight line, and, recently, I’ve been struggling with the prospect of my upcoming goodbyes.

I knew before I even moved to Kansas that I’d have to say goodbye sooner than I wanted to. I don’t think I’ve ever felt ready for a goodbye—not in high school, when I’d known some of my friends for over a decade; not in undergrad, when I’d known my closest friends for 4 years and had lived with them for 3—so I knew that 2 years wasn’t nearly enough time. I distinctly remember feeling like “it wasn’t worth it” to form close friends in grad school because we’d just go our separate ways and my heart would break.

I was very wrong…and very right.

It took me about a week to honestly decide that I loved my cohort, and I know now that I wouldn’t have made it this far in grad school without them. They have been my greatest support system, and I can’t thank them enough for all they’ve done for me. I don’t regret how fast and hard we fell for each other. But I was right that 2 years hasn’t been long enough and that my heart is already breaking.

This isn’t the ending we deserved.

But I’ve spent 24 years getting used to life’s vague disappointments. I should probably stop thinking perfect happily evers are possible, but my Hufflepuff heart just won’t accept that. I am an eternal optimist, and if I had to choose between this experience of COVD and heartbreak or never having met my cohort, I’d take our current timeline every single time.

There’s a quote in Cassandra Clare’s book Clockwork Princess (2013) that keeps me going through these times: "Every meeting led to a parting, and so it would as long as life was mortal. In every meeting, there was some of the sorrow of parting, but in every parting, there was some of the joy of meeting as well” (507). Winnie the Pooh says it differently: “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” (And this may not even be an A.A. Milne quote, but that’s not relevant right now; the sentiment behind it is.)

In short, I have loved being in Kansas. I’ve made a home here. I’ve found a family. And I would stay longer if I could so I could take it all in and spend more time appreciating what I have, but I don’t know if that’s going to be possible. I might have to go back to Alabama. Don’t get me wrong; I love my biological family so much, but I feel like my hand s being forced here, and I hate being forced into something I don’t want to do.

I'm more than a little proud of this family we've created here.
 Here's us at the Department Holiday Party, December 13, 2019. 

Even during one of the most stressful and pivotal times of my life, though, it’s not nearly as stressful as what apocalyptic YA protagonists face, so I guess I should take the silver lining where I can get it. But one thing that my personal life and YA books do tend to share is an emphasis on chosen family. I grew up 16 hours away from my parents’ families—they’re from the same small town in Pennsylvania—and I only saw my aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins once a year—maybe twice if I was lucky—so I made a lot of “family” in Alabama. It never really occurred to me that there was any difference between my parents’ best friends, my Uncle Frank and Aunt Elaine and Uncle Lon and Aunt Karen, and my parents’ siblings, Uncle Bob, Uncle Chuck, Aunt Nan, and Uncle Alan. We spent as much time with blood relatives as chosen ones, and they all loved me the same—so maybe I’m just predisposed to form lifelong bonds with people.

But we see Katniss do that, too. She and Peeta stay in touch with Annie even after Finnick dies and the war ends. They still talk to Haymitch. These are the people they went through literal hell with; that’s an unbreakable bond.

We see Jane and Katherine come together in Dread Nation, first as unwillingly allies and later as something near friendship (and that relationship continues to build into Deathless Divide, which I’m reading now). They protect each other; they help each other; they’re really starting to—gasp!—care about each other.

And then there’s Frenchie, in The Marrow Thieves. He starts referring to Miig, Minerva, Wab, Chi-Boy, Tree and Zheegwon, Slopper, and RiRi as family almost as soon as he meets them, and it’s a phrase that’s reiterated throughout the book.

I think all my emotions about grad school and chosen family are best summed up in two quotes from two of my favorite YA series:

1.  "Family isn’t blood. It’s the people who love you. The people who have your back”—Cassandra Clare City of Heavenly Fire (2014), pg. 111
2. “Time is making fools of us again” --J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (2005) 

Reveling in the Dusty Bookshelf's Harry Potter-themed re-opening
 in April 2019, this time wearing by Beauxbatons girl outfit. 

There’s so much uncertainty right now, and that’s always been the hardest thing for my Ravenclaw mind to deal with. I hate not knowing more than I hate almost anything else—except maybe the dentist. It’s so hard to imagine how this situation will all play out. I don’t know if having these YA books helps me—because I can empathize with the love the characters have for their chosen families—or scares me—because, you know, death and destruction and war and revolution.

I really want the odds to be in our favor…just this once.

Katie






Bibliography:

Clare, Cassandra. City of Heavenly Fire. Simon & Schuster, 2014.


                 Clockwork Princess. Simon & Schuster, 2013.


Collins, Suzanne. Mockingjay. Scholastic, 2012.


Dimaline, Cherie. The Marrow Thieves. Dancing Cat Books, 2017.


Ireland, Justina. Dread Nation. HarperCollins, 2018.


Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Scholastic, 2005.

Captain's Log, Day 13: In Which I Find Symbolism

Date: April 20, 2020

Time of post:  8:45PM

Quarantine Day: 36

Last Song I Listened To: “Only the Brave” by Louis Tomlinson

Last Person I Communicated With: one of the many GTA GroupMe chats (we have so many!)

Last Thing I Ate: spaghetti and meatballs with alfredo

Last Thing I Read: a study guide of History of the Book terms

Current Mood: headache-y

One Thing I’ve Accomplished Today: almost setting my kitchen on fire and shattering a glass bowl

One Thing I Want To Accomplish Today: figure out why my email is down

One Reason I’m Stressed Today: Toothless got out today (immediately following my “accomplishment”) and took like 10 years off my life

One Reason I’m Happy Today: I think I’m presenting at the Lit Track Symposium next week—but my email crashed before I could read the whole thing; it said “pleased,” so that usually means good news

Dear Apocalypsers,

I’m tired today. My head hurts. Hopefully this entry will be short and I can have a relaxing evening.

Today has been an adventure, to say the least.

It was a pretty chill day. I woke up earlier than normal (at 10AM instead of noon). I actually did some dishes and picked up my apartment a little. I took my History of the Book Quiz—which was awful—and talked to my best friend for a while. Then I called my mom, who was on the phone with me for the rest of my “adventure.”

Then I made the mistake of wanting to make dinner. You’d think that everything was fine, considering that I cook for myself every day, and that, not 4 days, I was whipping up a coffee cake like Jacob Kowalski from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (2016).

I’m definitely more of a baker than a chef, apparently.

Me a few days ago proudly sharing my baked goods with you.

I decided to make spaghetti. I bought spinach and kale and alfredo sauce and wanted to make like a “primavera” type thing. So I put some water in a pot, turn the stove on, and head back to my room to put some laundry away, because I know it’ll take several minutes to heat up, and “a watched pot never boils,” right?

When I step into the hallway, I can see “steam.”

“Great, the water’s almost ready,” I think.

Nope.

That was smoke.

Me, today, standing in my kitchen.

I turned on the wrong burner, and, of my four burners, I turned on the only one that could have caused any problems. I turned on the “back right” burner instead of the “front right” burner, and of course my glass fruit bowl with a bag of halo oranges, a spaghetti squash and a set of measuring cups was sitting on that one.

I think it was the netting on the halo bag that was smoking, so I utter my favorite 4-letter-word  (it rhymes with “luck,” of which I had none today), turn the vent on, move the bag of oranges  to the stove top, and cut the burner off.

This is what "melted measuring cup" looks
like.

Then I start fanning the whole hazy kitchen with a spiral-bound notebook. I run back and dan the smoke detector in the hall for good measure, because I hate when it goes off. Then I go to the living room (things are still smoldering in the kitchen and my mom is on speaker phone asking what’s going on), and I fumble with the sliding door, trying to open it and slide the screen across without the my curious cats getting out.

Then I made another mistake. I moved the glass bowl to a different burner—and it, for lack of a better word, exploded. So now I have smoke and broken glass everywhere.

And my mother understood why I used a 4-letter-word.

The aftermath

So I cleaned up the broken glass and throw away the melted measuring cups and scorched fruit (most of the halos survived!) I post about it on social media, because I’m a mess, and I want everyone to know about my superb kitchen skills. (There’s still plastic melted to my stovetop, but my mom says if I let it cool, it should peel right off.)

 I finally get to make my spaghetti, and that, thankfully, goes off without a problem.

Before I sit down to eat, I decide to close the sliding door, because the blinds are open, and the sun is shining right in my eyes.

And, of course, I can’t catch a break. The sliding door comes off its track, and, as I’m trying to fix it, Toothless, runs onto my balcony and immediately onto my neighbor’s adjoining one. He doesn’t come when I call—no, beg—him to come back. Instead, he jumps down into the parking lot. (I live on the second floor, but the buildings are split-level, so the first floor is almost underground, and my second-floor balcony is probably only 4 feet off the ground.) I literally sprint out of my apartment building to find Toothless under our balcony with his tail all puffed up. Naturally, he tried to run from me…until he realized it was me, and then he just meowed like, “MOM, GUESS WHAT I ACTUALLY HATE THIS A LOT.”

Long story short, I scoop him up, come back inside, eat my now-cold spaghetti, and sit down to write this.

I think I need wine.

And, because I’m an English graduate who’s been cooped up for far too long, I started thinking: I survived that catastrophe. And while it’s a small-scale personal catastrophe compared to the large-scale global catastrophe that’s going on right now, the process is similar. I kept my head when things were literally on fire; I did what I had to do. Even my mother, who witnessed the whole thing, was impressed with how calm I was. (And she’s been dealing with my dramatics for 24 years now!) And I think that if I keep approaching this pandemic in the same way, that I’ll make it out okay. That doesn’t mean that things won’t be scary. I mean, I almost set my kitchen on fire while trying to boil water—that’s terrifying—and I could have easily lost my cat, whom I love beyond belief, if I hadn’t noticed that he slipped out—that’s almost scarier. This pandemic is scary; it’s uncertain and stressful and all-around scary, but if we buckle down and do what the experts say—and call our moms and Zoom with our friends and tell people we love them and wash our hands and wash our hands and wash our hands—I think we’ll make it out of this.

Here's Toothless the Escape Artist

Here's Minnie the Very Good Girl

And, idk, maybe salvage the second half of 2020.

I could compare this to all the protagonists of apocalyptic literature. I want to make a rally corny Katniss as the “girl on fire” joke. I want to dig through my Twitter and find an appropriate Justice quote. But, like I opened with, I’m tired, this is definitely one of those “let go” moments. So I might just go get that wine and try again tomorrow.

Tomorrow’s a new day, hopefully with less fire and smoke—both literally and figuratively.

So here’s to tomorrow.

May the odds be ever in our favor,

Katie

Captain's Log, Day 12: I Put the "I" in "Identity"

Date: April 18 (technically 19), 2020

Time of post:  12:39 AM

Quarantine Day: 34

Last Song I Listened To: “Woman's World” by Little Mix

Last Person I Communicated With: Savannah Winkler via Instagram DMs

Last Thing I Ate: 3 halo mandarin oranges

Last Thing I Read: A Snapchat message

Current Mood: proud

One Thing I’ve Accomplished Today: grocery shopping and finished graduation presents

One Thing I Want To Accomplish Today: I mean, I actually did all the things on my list today

One Reason I’m Stressed Today: I have a big History of the Book “quiz” to take this weeked

One Reason I’m Happy Today: the ChALC Conference today was wonderful, and Zetta Elliott is an amazing human being and incredible speaker!

Dear Apocalypsers,

I’ve been thinking a lot about identity today. It started this morning with the biannual ChALC Conference. Months ago, we picked a theme: “Fantastic Identities.” The M.A. Class of 2020 has a pretty big Children’s Lit cohort—I think there are 6 of us (me, Lexi, Dustin, Mikayla, Molly, Noelle)—and we’re all involved with ChALC, and we’re all very into diversity and representation in Children’s Literature. (And it probably helps that, to quote the best compliment Nick Cady has ever given, “We’ve got to be one of the gayer cohorts.”) So we knew that if we were going to have a hand in planning this conference, we wanted it to be about identity. And, because K-State has some of the coolest connections, we were able to get Zetta Elliott as the keynote speaker.

Cue COVID-19 mess.

Thankfully, Karin Westman is the ChALC sponsor, and we were able to move the conference online via Zoom. In some ways, that was great, because people from across the country were able to join in. On the other hand, we lost the opportunity to meet Zetta and potentially have lunch with her and ger her to sign our books and all the geeky things that a Children’s Lit graduate student would desperately want to do. But, I’m trying not to get bogged down in that. I’m just going to make Phil Nel introduce us in person someday.

A line from Elliott's most recent book, a collection of poetry inspired about the
lives of her mother and grandmother.

Zetta’s keynote address was called “Magic, Mystery, and History: Forging Radical Black Girl Identities in Fantasy Fiction,” and she talked a lot about her own family history and her relationship with her racial identity. It was really beautiful and powerful and brought up a lot of concerning points about what kinds of books are “allowed” to feature Black or Indigenous protagonists, and, because of all this drama, award-winning authors like Zetta Elliott have to self-publish their work to get it to readers at all. Apparently, most children’s books published with a Black protagonist are in the “nonfiction,” “biography,” or “historical fiction” category, because those are the genres that most often win the Coretta Scott King Award. If a book wins the Coretta Scott King, it’s basically guaranteed to stay in print, and every public and school library will end up with a copy of it—which is great news for publishers. So that creates a cycle of only publishing those genres, and then those genres are the only ones that win, so on and so on—and nobody wants to “risk” publishing other genres like science fiction and fantasy, because they might not make a profit immediately. What they don’t see—or don’t care about—is that introducing books with Black protagonists from different genres could start trend and that, in the future, there could be a really diverse array of books up for (and winning) the Coretta Scott King Award.

But that’s not what capitalism’s about, is it?

Spent my morning at the @chalcksu (digital) conference & was brought to tears by @zettaelliott inspiring words on the need to tell silenced stories. Plus she referenced my all time favorite theorist @Ebonyteach & the world was perfect for just a moment 💙 my highlights (a thread) pic.twitter.com/Kz3dtYcOup

— Mikayla Sharpless (@mikaylarstweets) April 18, 2020

When I think about identity, YA novels immediately come to mind. Teenagerdom is such a hard time, partly because everyone’s self-conscious and trying to figure out who they are. I mean, the plot of every teen movie is the "outcast" or "weirdo" suffering for not fitting the status quo and slowly "finding their place," usually with people who accept them "just the way they are."  Fantasy and dystopia YA take the bildungsroman to the next level and throw in a casual “save the world” mandate or “the world is ending” proclamation on top of the already dystopic reality of puberty. Katniss and Peeta, at 16/17/18-years-old have to come to terms with their constantly shifting identities. Peeta even keeps a list of words that he uses to “try to figure [Katniss] out”: friend, lover, victor, enemy, fiancée, target, mutt, neighbor, hunter, Tribute, and ally (Collins 270).

It should be known that the whole Children's Lit
cohort is obsessed with Ebony Elizabeth Thomas' book,
The Dark Fantastic. We read it for Phil's class last spring
and actually got to Zoom with her. And she and Zetta
Elliott are friends! Basically, this photo is hella important
to us now. 

 In Dread Nation (2018), both Jane and Katherine must come to terms with what it means to be a Black girl in Justina Ireland’s zombie-infested post-Civil War world. Jane seems to have an understanding of what being Black means to White society, but she also knows what it means to her, and she’s learned how to work around the system as much as she can. I’m thinking specifically of the moments where she makes herself sound uneducated to get White characters to leave her alone, saying, “My momma says the best wat to get what you want from people is to give them what they think they want. They expected me to be stupid, so I used that to our advantage” and “Sometimes you have to live down to people’s expectations, Kate. If you can do that, you’ll get much further in life” (Ireland 62, 63). Katherine, who is white-presenting, has a harder time with her identity, because on one hand, she can live as a privilege white woman, but at what cost? She tells Jane, “[Passing as white is] exactly what I don’t want. I don’t want to live the rest of my life as a liar. To turn my back on my own people” (362).

But identity isn't limited to teenagers and YA, as Daniel Heath Justice shows us in The Way of Thorn and Thunder (2011), where many of his characters find themselves straddling more than one identity. For Tarsa, the main protagonist (maybe?), she struggles with suddenly having her identity as a Redthorn Warrior taken away as her Wielder identity is Awakened. Being a Wielder is uncommon, and she is shunned by her community; she feels out of place herself until Chapter 11 "Becoming" when she accepts her identity. Other characters, like the gender neutral zhe-Kyn , Averyn, embody characteristics of both genders, and they are a valued healer in this world. Even Tobhi, who is portrayed as personable, honest, and well-liked, is "different," as he is a Leafspeaker. His skills are rare among Tetawi, so he isn't "normal," either, and the same can be said of Quill the Dolltender. But, for Tobhi and Quill, their differences (or anomalies) make them highly respected members of their communities, and there is yet no indication that they ever faced the kind of discrimination that Tarsa has. Overall, Justice's world is reflective of Indigenous culture which is more accepting of “anomalous” gender identity than our society is, in that The Way of Thorn and Thunder views identity as more of a spectrum than a binary and that "anomalous" people are not "wrong" but special and important.

This is a post from an astrology account that I follow on
Instagram. It "prescribed" me (a Pisces) 5-10 times a day. I listen
to so much music every day, so this was a pretty (and strangely
accurate) "pill to swallow.."

With all of this bouncing around in my head, I started thinking about my own identity. (Don’t worry—no Earth-shattering revelations are about to be revealed.) So, I do what I always do when I need some feel-good energy: I turn on Little Mix. They’re probably my favorite girl group, and I’ve actually come to appreciate them more as I’ve gotten older because 1) they’re best friends, and that comes across in every song they record and every interview they do and 2) they are unapologetically proud of the things that society tells women they shouldn’t be proud of, from their weight to their sex lives to “four letter words” to how big their boobs are (these are the things that definitely made me uncomfortable at first, coming from a small Southern town, but now it’s what I love about them). They have a song called “Strip” on their most recent album, LM5 (2018), and I literally cried came on Spotify today. I was in my kitchen, microwaving some chicken nuggets, and I just cried. (It’s not even a dramatic ballad! That’s “Cannonball,” which of course came on immediately after, and I was such a wreck after those 2 songs, omg.) I think it was this part that got me: “Take off all my make-up 'cause I love what's under it / Rub off all your words, don't give a, "uh", I'm over it / Jiggle all this weight, yeah, you know I love all of this / Finally love me naked, sexiest when I'm confident / You say I ain't pretty / Well, I say, "I'm beautiful", it's my committee” (Little Mix).

I don’t have a great history with my body. There are things about myself that I’m not comfortable with—my weight, my skin, my teeth—and I generally just feel a little bit like I’m trying to hide myself. Growing up, I was always told that I was “so smart.” I was “writing my own ticket,” and “my parents must be so proud.” What I don’t remember being told was that I was pretty or that I had a nice smile or that someone had a crush on me. I do remember not fitting into my 7th grade Spring formal dress because I had gained weight. I remember being told by my neighbor that we could work out (at 12 and 13) and get me “from a Large to a Medium.” I remember getting cast as the comic relief character but never the beautiful leading lady and being told that boys were “intimidated by me.” I remember not getting asked to Prom. I knew I was smart, and that quickly became my identity—but I wanted to be pretty.

And, weirdly, it took moving halfway across the country to find peace with myself. That’s what I realized today. For years, I thought something was wrong with me. Maybe I wasn’t particularly pretty; I didn’t hear that much (except from my parents, but they’re obligated to say that, right?) Maybe I was a little too chubby or my one wonky tooth was too wonky; I had never been asked out, never kissed anyone. Maybe I was too loud or weird or naïve or focused on my career. But when I got here, I found people who loved every part of me—and told me. And that gave me some much-needed confidence to love myself. Like the girls of Little Mix say, “If you got little boobs, love it / If you got a big ass, grab it / If you got nothing big, rock it / It's your life, go get it, if you want it” (Little Mix).

And, wow, do I want it.

So, if you’ve read the last 1600 words, thank you. Go jam to some Little Mix. They’re sure to make you feel good about yourself. (I highly recommend “Joan of Arc,” “Wasabi,” “TheNational Manthem,” “Woman Like Me,” “Shout Out to My Ex,” “Power,” “Salute,” and “Little Me” in addition to “Strip" and “Cannonball.” "Woman's World" (My "last song listened to" is so powerful, too. Definitely worth a shout out here.).

And, if you’re still figuring out who you are, may the odds be ever in your favor. You’ll get there.

Katie

Works Cited:

Collins, Suzanne. Mockingjay. Scholastic, 2012.

Ireland, Justina. Dread Nation, HarperCollins, 2018.

Justice, Daniel Heath. The Way of Thorn and Thunder: The Kynship Chronicles. University of New Mexico Press, 2013.

Little Mix. “Strip.” LM5, Syco, 2018.