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 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 9: I Lament What Should Have Been

Date: April 12, 2020

Time of post 11:45 PM

Quarantine Day: 28

Last Song I Listened To: “Long Live” by Taylor Swift

Last Person I Communicated With: literally on the phone with my mom as I write this

Last Thing I Ate: chicken alfredo & wine

Last Thing I Read: The Way of Thorn and Thunder by Daniel Heath Justice

Current Mood: content but always mildly frustrated

One Thing I’ve Accomplished Today: did an FB live read-aloud with Lexi!

One Thing I Want To Accomplish Today: read some more of Justice

One Reason I’m Stressed Today: I’ve been putting off doing dishes (and laundry) for days

One Reason I’m Happy Today: had a Zoom “Digi-Easter” with some of the other grad students, and got to do the read along with Lexi

I actually started working on the PowerPoint for the Taylor Swift paper that
I was supposed to present at PCA this week. I was (am!) really excited about it!

Dear Apocalyspsers,

Happy Easter! (Though I have a hard and fast stance that it’s not Easter unless you sing “Up from the Grave HeArose,” so I hope you sang that today; otherwise, it’s not really Easter.) And, maybe because it’s Easter, I’ve been thinking a lot about what could have been this semester. Like, Jesus could have stayed in the tomb. He could have never let Himself die on the cross for us. We could have been doomed for an eternity in hell.

But we weren’t.

There are a lot of things from my Methodist upbringing that I don’t agree with anymore (most recently, the Church's stance of not taking a stance on same-sex marriage and LGBTQ+ clergy); there’s a lot about organized religion, in general, that doesn’t sit right with me anymore. But the one thing that I’ll never be able to shake is Jesus’ message of hope and love. I’ve seen it. I’ve experienced that hope and love in ways that have me utterly convinced there’s something bigger than us out there, and that’s part of what’s getting me through this quarantine.

There are so many things that could have and should have happened for me this semester. 

My Instagram story from when I
submitted my PCA abstract.

My Instagram story from the day
my PCA abstract was accepted.

I was supposed to present at two conferences that have been cancelled.

I was supposed to walk across the stage on May 15^th and look at my parents in the crowd and wave and smile and tell them how grateful I am for them. I was supposed to introduce them to my friends, who they’ve been sending cards to for two years now solely because I won’t stop talking about them. Now, I don’t know if those two incredibly important parts of my life will ever meet.

Noelle, Mikayla, Molly, and I had a panel accepted to the
national ChLA conference. It was supposed to be our last
adventure together. Earlier this week, they officially
cancelled the conference.

I was supposed to spend March through May celebrating with my best friends: nights out after successful defenses, a Shrek-themed Prom, SAGE Events (dodgeball and movie nights were already on the agenda), speakers like U.S. Poet Laureate Joy Harjo and Children’s Lit scholar Kristin Bluemel, and just spontaneous movie nights and game nights and trips to Lawrence. Those things are all rescheduled or scrapped entirely.

And, usually, I have a pretty good relationship with disappointment. I’ve learned not to expect perfect endings, but too always hope for one. I think that’s why I get so much joy out of life—because every good thing is a little bit of a surprise. I don’t know what that says about my psyche, but I definitely like it better than always having my heartbroken. This semester, though, I think I let myself expect the best. (Because who honestly thinks something as catastrophic as a global pandemic will happen and cancel graduation?) So I’m having a hard time putting a positive spin on this—though there have been plenty of nice things happening. I asked my cohort for pictures of us since we started grad school, and, boy did they come through. Within minutes, I had dozens of pictures and videos of us, and I think you’d be hard-pressed to find a cohort that gets along better than us. I was instantly reminded of all the amazing times we’ve shared and all the fun we’ve had. I may have teared up a little. I love them so much, and my heart hurts that I won’t get more days like that with them. It was nice to relive those moments, but it’s not Prom. It’s not graduation. And, for that, I’m a little bitter.

Logically, I know I’m doing my part. I’m staying in. I’m social distancing. I’m grocery shopping once every 2 weeks and only going to one store when I do.

But some people aren’t.

And that—that makes me furious.

Some people are so ignorant and full of themselves. The Kansas lawmakers who challenged Governor Kelley’s order to not have church gatherings of more than 10 people. (Thank God the Supreme Court killed that.) The State of Alabama for keeping state parks open so my Type 1 Diabetic brother still has to go to work. Trump for being so obnoxious and incompetent. This reminds me so much of the day I came home from second grade sobbing because other kids wouldn’t listen to the rules. I’ve never been a fan or corporal punishment, and I feel like I’m being punished with quarantine.

Knowing now that this was the last time
we'd all go out to Aggieville together
makes this picture extra special and
extra sad (2-8-2020)

But I still can’t bring myself to fall into a pit of total despair. As much as I want to be angry, I want to have hope more. I guess I just know my personality. I’m living alone, my parents 900 miles away and my friends unable to physically with me. If I emotionally crumple, I’m not coming out of it.

So I’ll hope. I’ll hope for a treatment and a vaccine and for people to stay inside for the love of all that’s good. I’ll hope that the CDC gets a handle on all the outbreak epicenters and that rural hospitals are able to treat current cases. I’ll hope that, somehow, someday, some way, karma works out in my favor, that I’ll get my “one more moment” with the people who, like me, had so much taken away. I’ll hope that Trump gets his ass voted out of office in November and sued for every awful, inhumane thing he’s done.

A decade ago, I might have described these hopes as prayers.

Now, I don’t think the semantics matter as much as the intent behind them.

Wholeheartedly, may the odds be ever in our favor,

Katie