Drainage…DRAAAAAAINAGE November 30, 2009

This is the time of the semester where I am utterly drained and ready for everything to end. I’m sure it doesn’t help that I had an absolutely inhuman workload this semester (dissertation, teaching 3 classes, lab work, and job hunting) and the end of the semester marks the beginning of an awesome trip to SE Asia. 7 more working days until I’m free. 7 more….7 more…

My university (and my college in particular) uses two online systems with which to organize course materials, submit assignments, and track student progress. No doubt many of you in higher education are familiar with the demons LiveText and/or eLearning. Now that many of my students’ assignments are rolling in, I’m beginning to see what poorly designed, expensive overpriced pieces of shit these platforms truly are. As much as my students have grumbled about how much they hate these systems, I’ve assured them that it’s infinitely worse on my side of the coin. Not only have I had to wrestle with the inconsistencies and minutiae of such  clumsy beasts and battled intermittent outages, but I also had to endure a few hours’ of “training” at the onset of the academic year. Yes, hours. The few morsels of information gleaned from these so-called training sessions could have been bestowed via a brief e-mail, so of course it made sense for me to waste a few perfectly good hours with Captain Incompetent at the helm. These training sessions were obviously for people who still think AOL is at the cutting edge of computing. It sickens me that someone, somewhere is making an obscene amount of money, profiting from my (and others’) misery, all in the name of this elusive goal of “accountability.”

If anything, this semester has taught me why so many of the professors I know drink the way they do. Sigh.

When life gets you down, try prescription strength Damitol! October 26, 2009

Things were going fine for a while, but now I’m just over this semester. Students who couldn’t be bothered to come to class (or to participate when they did) are suddenly ultra-concerned about their grade, and blame their failures on me. Nice try, dear, but when I know I said something in class on three separate occasions, it’s hard for you to argue that I “never told” you when the assignments were due. A few have claimed I never told them my office hours. Never mind that they’re right on the syllabus and I make references to them liberally in class. RTFS, kids! I still have a ton of essays to grade, but like hell I’m getting anywhere near a grade book when I feel like this.

This is all coming down on me when I have a few important job apps to get out by the end of the week, not to mention a vicious cold/upper respiratory infection that’s had me laid up since last night. I felt sort of hoarse and sore on Thursday and Friday, but by Saturday night, I knew I had a full-blown illness. Now my asthma’s flaring up and it’s hard for me to breathe, so I’m off to the clinic in a few for a breathing treatment and perhaps a steroid shot to scare off any inflammation so that I can just start my week already.

I could use a drink, but I think mixing alcohol with Tylenol Cold is a bad idea, or so they say.

Lord, be a hand over my mouth March 25, 2009

Warning: I’m about to hardcore whine about some shit.

I was invited to give a lecture in a class earlier this week. For purposes of anonymity, let’s just say that this was a lecture on bread baking. To extend the metaphor, let’s also assume that my area of research interest is pie making. These two areas are similar in some ways, but mostly very different. I was still able to develop a kick-ass lecture on bread baking, complete with handouts and PowerPoint, so no worries. I know way more about bread baking than the instructor of the class, hence the reason for my invitation.

I arrived in class on time and completely prepared. I started my lecture, and the instructor of the class couldn’t seem to just listen. It seemed like every time I made a point on some issue, Instructor would ask some sort of rhetorical question or comment about something that I would be addressing in the VERY NEXT slide. I mean, fuck, really? If the instructor wanted to teach it, I’d have made that happen. The first two times, I smiled generously and said, “You know, that’s coming right up!” After that, I just gave up. I saw a few sympathetic looks from students…well, at least the ones whose noses weren’t buried in their Crackberries or iPhones. That’s a post for another day. Overall, it was a very unpleasant experience.

Ain’t nothin’ but a number March 8, 2009

All in all, the research and thesis conference presentation went well. On Friday I told my advisor that I was glad he told me to do it, and I meant it then, but I really believed it after I finished my presentation. The good: People asked really good questions, the faculty respondents said that I obviously was very knowledgable in my field, and I got a lot of compliments on my body language and eye contact. The bad: I went about 30 seconds over the allotted time, which meant I had a few points deducted from my evaluation. The ugly: I need to stop talking like I’m 20 years old. Needless to say, I was a bit nervous during my presentation, and I unknowingly slipped into a few vocal tics (“you know”), which made me sound young in a bad way. I’m now working very hard to eliminate those sorts of things from my speech so that I won’t slip into those habits during a moment of nervousness (as in a job talk). I couldn’t help but be nervous, since I was presenting in front of not only my advisor, but also the spouse, who was kind enough to come watch me instead of staying home to watch a basketball game on TV. Despite everything, I’m proud of myself.

However, I’m really struggling with this whole idea of appearance. I look very, very young for my age, and I’m already intending to enter the academic job market a good 3-5 years earlier than most people do. While we’d all like to think that job candidates are judged only on their scholarship and individual merits, it’s no secret that academics are just as shallow as anyone else in making personnel decisions. Attractive people get jobs more often than plain-looking people. Both older and younger candidates are judged as “too stodgy” or “too flaky” (respectively), which means basically anyone younger than 30 or older than 50 is kind of screwed. Even if I waltz in to a job talk with a kick-ass resume and a god-like job talk, more than a few people will likely question my abilities simply because I’m barely 5′2″ and baby-faced. Recently, we had a candidate come in for an interview who is exactly my age. Her talk was great, and she seemed to be a good fit for the department. But then I heard some faculty members say, “Oh, she makes me feel old.” Ultimately, she did not get the job, and we hired a slightly older (but equally qualified) candidate. Things like this worry me, but I really have no idea how to get around this. I can’t change who I am or make up for the fact that I’m a relatively inexperienced person, but I don’t think that it makes me any less qualified or able. I have to console myself with the thought that a department that would dismiss me based on appearances is not a place I want to work, but in this economy, it makes me nervous.

Hit me with your best shot February 21, 2009

Kill me now, please.

My nose is swollen and red, my face is puffy…hell, my brain is puffy. I am still sick. Like, really sick. I have had a fever for nearly 3 days now, I’m coughing and sneezing constantly, my nose runs like a leaky faucet, and I feel like the truck that ran over me put it in reverse and came back for more.

I’m trying to finish my damn proposal by Wednesday, but I can barely string together two coherent sentences. Not to mention that my drugs kept me up the better part of last night, so I’m drugged, sick, and sleep-deprived. I write so well like that.

I haven’t really been eating because 1) that would entail hauling my sick ass out of bed and 2) very few things sound good. I want either a baked potato or a sandwich from Jimmy John’s, but neither of those things are in my house now, so I’m eating graham crackers and listening to my stomach make weird noises instead.

Happy fucking blogiversary February 19, 2009

One year ago today, I started this little blog (then named “Always High, and Sometimes Deep”…that never rolled off the tongue, so I switched it to its current moniker, which I like quite a lot). I felt that chronicling my experience in graduate school might be at times helpful, and maybe even occasionally funny. Some days I feel like, to quote Juno, the cautionary whale. But it’s been helpful for me so far, and I hope that at least one other person has gained something from my writing.

“So, Freckles, whatcha doin’ to celebrate? Going out to dinner? Opening a bottle of fine pinot noir?”

Mmmm…try lying in bed with a 103 fever wearing a hoodie sweatshirt, pj pants, socks, two down comforters, a thermal blanket, and a sheet with the heat jacked up. I don’t know what in the everlasting hell has attacked me, but damn it puts up a good fight. Unfortunately, it’s currently winning. I had fever, chills, aches, and gut-wrenching sinus pain for much of today, and accomplished jack shit. I was moaning in pain for most of this evening, and I’m just now feeling like I can move.

So, let’s raise a glass of seltzer water to many more years of blogging and fewer illnesses. Cheers, y’all.

In threes February 10, 2009

They say bad things (or good things) come in threes. Well, there’s the aforementioned issue with my dissertation, which is still embarrassing. There’s also the fact that I just got the last shot to fix the OHW before surgery. I have a headache, cramps, and intermittent hot flashes that make me want to strip down to my birthday suit and take a plunge in a frozen river. And my ass hurts from where the shot went in. It’s funny because it doesn’t hurt when the nurse inserts the needle, and it really hurts when the solution enters my veins, and even the next day, I’m just sore as hell. Apparently, shots based on powders cause more discomfort than shots that are completely liquid. Alls I know is that I’m not taking another one of these ever again.

I go back to the doctor on April 20th for a pre-surgical consult. I hope that I can schedule the surgery before my shot wears off and I get all achy again. These last two weeks have been kind of unpleasant because the benefits of the shot wore off and I was feeling pretty shitty. Once the initial effects of this shot wear off, I’ll feel good for a couple of months.

I dread these next few days, because I’m afraid my third will arrive, and it will not be pretty.

My insanity, let me show you it February 3, 2009

I realize damn well that I should be doing anything but blogging right now but OH MY GOD I just want to throw up because of all of the work. Sleeping and eating just feel like distractions for me, despite their necessity. There’s not enough coffee in the world for me to stay awake and focused enough to do everything I need/want to do.

You ever feel like it takes you about three times as long as it should to do anything and everything? I am so there. I don’t know if it’s because I’m so mentally fried that I can’t process things at my normal speed or if I’m so exhausted that I just can’t function, but I feel like I’m getting nothing done in any area of my life. My workouts haven’t felt productive. My laundry often piles up until I have nothing clean but yoga pants and those cheesy dog socks my mom gave me when I was 12. Running errands, when I get the chance, never seems to work out too well for me because I’m pretty forgetful, even with a list. My stuff-cups, plates, books, articles, pencils-is everywhere, which I’m sure delights the spouse to no end.

I’ve written about 7 pages on chapter 1, I have an outline for Chapter 2, and section headings for Chapter 3, but that’s it. I have mountains upon mountains of sources to draw from, and I think therein lies my problem. It’s all just too big for me to wrap my head around it. Really, I need to figure out a way to break things down into sections so that I can address one thing at a time, but there’s so much information inside of me right now and it feels like the dam is about to break. And I’m just the little Dutch boy with her little finger in the dike holding back everything, for now. I can’t type as fast as I think, and I have way too much to say to ever type it in one sitting (hence the whole “take a few months/years to write your diss” thing). Unfortunately, I’m the kind of person who, when given a task, wants to get it all done RIGHTNOW. This means that some days I can’t seem to get myself to work, and when I do, I can’t stop.

I really hope I’m not alone in this, because it’s insanely frustrating.

Rapidly place head on desk, repeat as needed January 21, 2009

In order to start things off on a positive note, I will admit to having finished my Netherlands conference proposal today. I sent it off to my advisor, and he’ll probably suggest some edits next week when we meet, but the worst is behind me. Nothing like dropping a few hundred bucks on a flight to motivate you to get something done!

Now, I will gripe.

1. It’s really cold here. I wouldn’t mind having a streak of cold weather if it didn’t mean that in 5 months I’d be enduring weeks of 90+ temperatures with a generous helping of hair-curling humidity.

2. My boss is really getting on my nerves. I’m tired of not being trusted. I’m tired of picking up the pieces after someone else drops the ball. I’m really fucking tired of attending 2 hour meetings that should really only last about 20 minutes. I despise inefficiency, and I don’t appreciate having my time wasted. I console myself with the thought that I will no longer be putting up with this shit in a few months. Otherwise I would have to kill somebody.

3. My face is breaking out again, and it appears that my hair is falling out. Hawt.

No rest for the weary October 18, 2008

My whirlwind research recruitment week is officially over. In the end, I talked to 14 classes and provided info to another 4 or 5 online sections. Next week I’ll talk to three more classes, one of which has around 120 students in it. The e-mails are slowly starting to trickle in, which is encouraging. I even have a few of my students taking the survey, which is remarkable considering they’re doing this out of the goodness of their own hearts and not for extra credit. I’m guessing that at this pace, I’ll get my required number of participants, but of course I’m going to be a nervous wreck until I see at least 300 completed responses on the site. This weekend will be spent cleaning up the surveys and getting ready to e-mail all of the people who have already e-mailed me. I will likely stay up really late Sunday night so that when the clock strikes 12 AM, I can send out all my e-mails and then sleep knowing that it’s all taken care of. It would be absolute torture for me to try to sleep knowing I could be up sending e-mails.

There was also a bit of drama this week when my adviser send IRB an e-mail asking them about extending a waiver to 18 year old participants. Apparently, they have to review our protocol again in order to approve it. Why, you ask? Aren’t 18 year olds adults? Well, in the great state of Alabama, the age of consent is 19. That means you need to be 19 to get a credit card, a lease, enter into a contract, or for my purposes, consent to research. An 18 year old may “agree” to participate in research, but it’s not legally defined as “consent.” Whatever. There are different procedures I have to go through in order to include 18 year olds in my research, and since I need every participant I can get, I’m doing it. Do remember, though, that you can get married here at the ripe old age of 14 (so long as you have parental permission). Hence my annoyance and frustration.

I also had to pay another visit to my doctor this week to address the Ongoing Health Weirdness (henceforth referred to as OHW). I was given an injection and then some drugs to offset some of the more severe side effects of this injection. I’ll be in a sucky situation for the next couple of weeks because my pain won’t get any better (it may, I read, actually get worse), but in the meantime I’m experiencing an array of unpleasant side effects, the least of which are headaches, stomach upset, and utter exhaustion. This really could not have come at a worse time. That’s life, I suppose. The things you least want to happen occur when you least want them to.