048 A Researcher Fulfilled (For Now) · 5:24pm Jul 7th, 2015

048 A Researcher Fulfilled (For Now)

As you probably noticed, I almost never use the blog feature to share stuff not related to pastel mini-horses. Since in the last couple of months the said non-pony stuff has been actively colliding with me writing new stories, or publishing chapters to those I already have out there, I’d like to share some good news with you and give you a context as to what I’ve been up to lately. Behold! Below the break lies a story about yours truly (and sort of a status update with some hints as to what can you expect in the upcoming weeks/months).

A tall girl whose name I could not recall brought me out of my reverie.
"How do you keep calm like that?" she asked. "Why aren't you nervous?"
She had no idea. No one ever had, not when they looked at me, unable to penetrate the mask I chose to show them. It's been two weeks since I last read the thing, I mean, for real and actually paying attention to it. It was far from being perfect, even acceptable by my standards, and there was like a hundred of things I could have—and probably should have—improved before submitting it. Yesterday morning I found a shameful typo in the introduction, and yesterday evening I found a completely broken sentence which somehow bled into the final version of my thesis, the very same which the professors had read and which I was soon going to defend in an oral examination.
My worries were mostly irrational, but that didn't make them any less forceful. However, there was no reason to add to the palpable atmosphere of anxiety and fear which arose around our group of nine, where males were outnumbered eight to one, so I brought a relaxed expression to my face. To almost quote Hugh Darrow, whatever you do, do it with a smile. Always with a smile.
"Why would I be?" I replied. "It's just a formality at this point, and it's not like they want us to fail either."
Another girl, one of the twins with a charming speech impediment put down her notes. Why was she rereading her stuff now was beyond me. Perhaps it was helping her concentrate, or maintain mental balance? I know it wouldn't help me, but then again, I was convinced of my infallibility.
"I wonder what kind of questions are they going to ask."
"Such about our theses, no doubt, about which we know more than they do. And if all else fails, we can always make up for our lacks in knowledge with our enthusiasm," I said, doing my best to bring hope to those who didn't have enough of it. "Don't worry, we're all going to make it."
She nodded, then went back to her notes. "Yeah. I guess you're right."
"Of course I am."
Hopefully.

I have this thing for trusting in music when it comes to important life events. I like to think that what I listen beforehand will give me strength, will empower me to do what's necessary. Some epic, heroic, uplifting tune that helps you think of the upcoming "threat" as a challenge. A challenge to accept, to clash against, and to succeed. Such trust works most of the times. Back in high school when I was on my way to the finals (which on that day consisted of a pretty unique exam, an oral presentation in my native language on a chosen topic), I put on my earphones and shuffled a Street Fighter IV playlist. Obviously my intention was to get pumped before the exam to crush it with a mighty Ultra Combo Finish which would make the examination committee tremble before my awesomeness. You know, sort of a Feng Shui Engined Hashinshou with a Metsu Illusion Spark somewhere in the middle.

Unfortunately, I got this:

Could be more epic, I suppose. But hey, I eventually got 15 out of 20 points for my presentation, which was better than I would expect from being (supposedly) guided by the spirit of Dan Hibiki. Now this is where the real story begins. We were all allowed to choose a topic for our final presentation several weeks/months beforehand. If we didn't like it, we could always submit our own and hope for the teachers to accept it. I didn't care much about it and just went with one from the list. When it was too late to change my decision, I learned that a friend picked himself something which was vastly more fitting and relevant to my interests as well: Video Game Adaptations of Literature.

How could I have missed it - I don't know. I happen to be well-versed in the topic of gaming, and with my vast practical experience I realized I could made something to really impress the examiners (and not stress out over my 15/20 worth of topic, which however interesting was infinitely bland to what I could have chosen). But I didn't, and I regretted it ever since.

Aside from performing an inception on myself to erase the regret, there were two other courses of action I could take to release myself from these shackles. I could either invent/borrow/steal a time machine and tell my younger self there is a topic out there which he should take; or when a similar exam/presentation opportunity arises, do my best to somehow squeeze video games into it. I got such a chance recently, after five years of studying psychology. At the university I learned about the intricacies of human behavior, their emotions, forces that drive them, and their utmost fallible functioning on a mental level. Even more, after five years of statistical analyses and writing opinions based on psychological questionnaires and tests I might as well just listen to a person for a while and identify an area in which they could develop further. It was a time well spent, that's for sure!

To graduate, I had to write a thesis on a chosen topic. This time I have chosen wisely, and went with analyzing the personality of gamers. With months of researching, writing and perfecting behind me, there was only one more thing to do: present my thesis to the committee and defending it in an oral examination.

It was taking too long already.
I glanced at my watch again. We were told to make our presence at 10AM sharp, which meant I’ve been rotating between sitting, standing, and walking for over two hours now. Not because of stress, more like of genuine boredom. There was no specified order in which me or the eight girls were to enter Room 112, but instead the head of the committee was just going outside and inviting the next person by the name. Talk about anticipation!
By the time the noon struck and the seventh person came in, I felt genuine boredom. Without fear or anxiety, and lacking the excess of adrenaline to keep me alert, I started yawning time and again, and my stomach reminded me that it’s been too long since that bowl of cereal I had this morning. Silence, organ, you have no right to dictate the terms. Anyway, I guess I was taking the waiting game better than the twin whose expression suggested she was going to throw up any minute now.
Then the door opened, revealing a passage to a room which contrasted greatly with the poorly lit corridor. It was really bright in there, so if you happened to stand directly in front of the door like me, you could only see the darkened silhouette of a professor calling you. Imagine a long awaited messiah basked in the light as he would be standing at the end of a long, dark path full of traps and obstacles which you’ve been traveling for the last five years. That sort of thing.
“Please, come in,” a man said.
I immediately straightened up and smoothed my jacket, but just to be sure I pointed at myself. I couldn’t tell if he was calling me, or the twin.
“Me, Sir?”
“Yes, please.”
Let the games begin, and may the odds be ever in my favor.

What a cliffhanger! I’ll spare you the details on how the examination looked like, because let’s be honest, all exams like this are alike. They ask you a couple of questions, you answer them, and then you leave as they discuss the verdict. When you talk to them, do it with a smile. Always with a smile. How did I do? Well, how could I do? I’ll give you a musical hint, the two tracks which I’ve heard on the radio on my way to the university that morning.

The first one gave my day a vibe of an epic journey, and the other reminded me a principle of James T. Kirk which I proudly make my own: I don’t believe in no-win scenarios. So, long story short, I attained a Master’s Degree in Psychology by writing a thesis about the psychology of video games and gamers, thus closing the circle of regret. Side note: here in Poland we call a person with a master's degree a magister. Not too shabby, eh? More importantly, I earned myself freedom from exams, essays, lectures and all other school-type things. It's true that I just got out from one system and I’m heading towards another, but there’s no reason not to cherish the milestone, right?

Now for the pony related news.

Fact: it’s been almost two months without writing a single pony word (excluding the Season 5 blogs), which as you may imagine was a bizarre experience for someone who has been writing stories, or drafts of thereof every week for at least two years now. I’m a little rusty right now when it comes to producing plots and characters, and it may take a moment for me to get back into the swing of things, but I think I know to proceed. I’ll start by unearthing a mostly completed project which never got through editing. It’s a little something for you changeling lovers, so if the name Iqqel rings any bells I think you’d be content. Reading either Cheersalis or Snowboardling is not required, because the plot takes place in the past, hint, hint.

Arcane Realms received a far warmer reception than I could ever hope for. I expected a candle, maybe a bonfire, but I got a supernova instead. Thanks to the astounding support and a great number of comments I now know where I want to go with it (more accurately, thanks to one person who turned my attention to a single sentence which I did not find important until it’s been pointed out to me – good luck finding that one!). I still need to flesh out the characters I want to include along Spike, but I’m getting there. I suppose that after a changeling warm-up I’ll be able to deliver a chapter. Hint: you may benefit from reading Dune Goddess in the meantime.

And there’s Dreamlocked Chronicles which had a good streak of updates for some time, but was then put aside in favor of one-shots. That was the result of me working on my thesis as well. Between writing it and conducting research I realized I wouldn’t be able to muster enough time to keep myself dedicated to a larger project. One-shots, however… well, the year has been productive so far, and we’re only halfway. Getting the right mood for DC isn’t tricky, it only takes rewatching Inception several times and reading the chapters again. Maybe the upcoming Luna episode will be just what I need to write more? Anyway, I think it should be possible to write it along AR and have both finished by the end of the year.

So that’s for the status report. I guess what I want to say is thank you for sticking around! Now I'm off to ignoring the heat and writing stories. In the meantime, have a conclusion.

They say that formal education kills our creativity. That it limits our perception of the world to what is, and not to what could be. That once we’re through it, we are bound to become what the system wants us to be in order to have a better control over our minds and souls.
As I was crossing the bridge over the Vistula river, I stopped and turned my gaze back one last time. I saw the trees, the parking lot, and the three buildings forming the university from which I’ve just graduated with my new title and words of praise from my professors. I gathered a fair share of good memories there, a couple of painful as well, but whatever bond I had with this place was now weakening, disappearing without a trace. The buildings began to vanish as well, first losing the red of its bricks, then slowly folding themselves down floor by floor. The parking lot melted and turned into a grey whirlpool, swallowing all the cars and bicycles parked in there. Seeing that, leaves on the trees took flight like a flock of rabid birds, while the trunks shrunk back into tiny seeds from which they had grown.
Soon the university was no more, a memory which it had now become.
I turned my back on those serene fields of green, then closed my eyes and let a song be carried by what little wind veiled me.
“I had strings, but now I’m free…”
I felt a surge of burning dedication bolstering my resolve. There are stories to be told which I can now write. There are people out there waiting to hear them now that I can deliver. There are world to be explored now that I can visit them. There are—
I opened my eyes.
“There are no strings on me.”

OMG such blatant self-inert 2/10, downvoted!

~Prane

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