Random update! Sort of a "what's been what with me" as of late:
So, I'm home alone this weekend. My wife's sister (my sister-in-law, a phrase that still sounds odd to my ears) is in high school. In her biotech class, it came up that my wife had an MA in biology, worked as a lab tech, and now is in pharmacy school. Since my wife had taken the same biotech class when she was in high school, she agreed to take the train down on Thursday after she wrapped up finals. So, my wife spent Friday talking to high school classes about grad school, biotechnology, and working in the sciences. Sounds like she had a good time too.
The degree to which I am lost without my wife is sort of ridiculous. And, I mean, I'm not sure WHY. Since we live fairly close to home, it's not uncommon for us to head home. Further, given that we both have busy schedules that don't always synch up nicely, it's not uncommon for one of us to head home alone. Plus, with conferences and such, I travel fairly often alone (a few times a year at least). But whenever we're apart like this, I always feel sorta.... lost. I stay busy. On Thursday evening, I watched a movie. Last night (Friday), I talked to my parents and sister on the phone, then I visited with our neighbors upstairs. I watched another movie. (The two movies were pretty crummy: Nathalie, a steamy French movie about sex that was terribly banal, and Havoc, one of those "bored white teenagers fall in with the wrong crowd movies" that always smack of racism to me; the best bits were the very naked scenes by the impossibly lovely Anne Hathaway). Today, I talked to my grandmother, went downtown saw a movie (the surprisingly slick and fun Disturbia), and wandered about a bit. Tonight, I'll talk to my wife and do some work. Maybe I'll read some. (I've been reading Sweet and Low by Rich Cohen, which is the personal history of the sugar substitute by the same name - really great read). So, I'm not moping around. But I still always feel kinda.... lost.
It's times like this where I'm just sort of stunned by how central my wife is to my life. I love her to bits, but like some bad pop song, I don't realize how much I love her until she's not right here. I don't feel "boring" when we're sitting on the couch doing homework or watching bad TV. It just feels like ... living then. It's not scary to me - but it makes me *scared.* It makes me worry about her, and what I would do if she wasn't here with me. I'm a worrier, so of course my thoughts turn all morbid right?
It also doesn't help that I was "out of commission" with a cold all week, and I could go for some, um, *marital responsibilities* if you know what I mean.
Tomorrow, she comes home and we go and see Regina Spektor. So good times are around the corner.
In other news, E (the advisor) is apparently trying to kill me and/or drive me insane. In a slow, bitter way. A few weeks ago, I applied for a summer grant. Since the application was easy and open to grad students in three divisions, I figured my odds were pretty low of getting it. And, shore'nuff, I got a letter last week rejecting me. I just shrugged it off.
On Friday, P (the director of graduate studies) came to my desk (outside E's office) and asked to talk to me in his office - implying this was private/E wasn't supposed to hear. It all seemed sort of ominous and random, and I immediately started scouring my head for anything terrible I'd done lately (Catholic guilty conscience - overdrive mode!). When we get to his office, P asks about the summer grant. He asks if I'd had plans to travel and do archival work, because E's letter said that my summer plans included travel. But my personal statement for the grant had only talked about staying in Chicago and working on my methodology. And my stomach sort of dropped as I confirmed that I wasn't planning on traveling and P sent me on my way.
I reminded E about the letter several times. I sent him my statement. I sit outside his office all day, every day. I told him what was in my statement.
What he did was print off a letter *from last summer* for *another grand I had applied for* when I had *mentioned travel as a possible reason for needing the grant.*
I mean: FUCK!
I dunno why P asked me about this summer grant issue. Maybe he thought he could find money for me somewhere else, for travel. Maybe E is up for a promotion or some departmental task (I've heard he could be considered for chair being bandied about), and this was a part of some kind of evaluation. Maybe P just wanted to know if I was a fucking idiot. Who knows. But Damn. I didn't *need-NEED* the money, and my odds of getting it were slim regardless. But there's something frustrating about getting cut in the first round (probably) for such a fucking moronic reason. E: I shake my fist at you and the gods!
And what sucks is that there's not much I can do about this now. Confront him? To what end? I guess I'll just need to keep a closer eye on him from here on out. All this fucking babysitting of professors gets fucking old man. I want to know at what point you become a total spazz? Is it tenure? Full professorship? When do you become unable to handle basic human tasks? [Like the professor who showed up this week for a workshop, despite the fact we had reschedule his appearance for a MONTH FROM NOW, and sent us all into a mad scramble. Seriously: What. The. Hell?) So it goes.
In further E news: he apparently also wants to totally rehaul my dissertation, and sort of "pussify" it in my opinion. Basically, after the workshop, he had some sort of a freak out that my theoretical interests were too "odd," and he wants to strip out alllll the stuff I love about my dissertation and make it really boring. He assures me "this happens" and I can "work the stuff I like back into the book." It sort of freaked me out. Sort of a lot. I felt like I'd made all these mistakes, and was dumb, and had wasted a bunch of time. I didn't know what to do next. Then, I realized he's full of shit. Kinda.
This is a *thing* that he does that I find frustrating. He's really quite mercurial, despite his "cool dude" persona. One day, he'll talk about how I should write my dissertation as some mad philosophical treatise based all around historical texts. The next day, he'll back off and say that he's not an expert in those areas, and that I should write something very "mainstream" and sort of boring with lots of linear regressions (even where inappropriate, which is a fucking malady of the discipline IMHO).
I'm not naive, and I don't advocate *ignoring* the market or the field as a whole. I mean, I picked political science and academia (mostly) knowing what this beast was. But that said, I'd still like to keep some of what I love about my project, you know, in the fucking project. I like E, he's a smart, curious guy; a savvy academic (when it comes to think likes employment and publication); and he has an interesting perspective on work. But at times I think I chose badly by making him chair/he misled me in how to frame and develop my question. It's funny. On the same day he was trying to back off on my dissertation, my 3rd reader L (a fantastic sociologist) sent me comments on the same chapter that were summed up with: "This needs tons of work still, but you're off to a good start and this is interesting stuff." Since my 2nd reader (my other political scientist) is the dean, he's a bit absentia. More and more, L is becoming an important interlocutor for me. She's much more my audience than E in some ways, and more on board theoretically and methodologically. So yea! Sociology seems like such a *saner* discipline by the way - less pressure to explain *everything* with rational choice, more open to odd topics, more methodologically diverse etc.
Basically, I've decided that I could be REALLY unhappy writing this dissertation by doing it the way E wants, and maybe *slightly* increase my odds on the market. Or, I could do the project I want (within reason - taking *some* of E's market oriented advice) and *enjoy* it and hope that others find the work odd, but intriguing, and count on that to get me placement. Either way, there's a risk. And I think I'm willing to get on my own (relative) short-term happiness. 'Cause I could do everything E says, and STILL get a crummy job - just given the realities of the market. So you gotta take what you can get. I don't need to be at an Ivy or a Big 10 to be happy in this profession, and I'm OK with that.
All right. That's enough of that. I'm going to putz around and listen to my new CDs.
So, I'm home alone this weekend. My wife's sister (my sister-in-law, a phrase that still sounds odd to my ears) is in high school. In her biotech class, it came up that my wife had an MA in biology, worked as a lab tech, and now is in pharmacy school. Since my wife had taken the same biotech class when she was in high school, she agreed to take the train down on Thursday after she wrapped up finals. So, my wife spent Friday talking to high school classes about grad school, biotechnology, and working in the sciences. Sounds like she had a good time too.
The degree to which I am lost without my wife is sort of ridiculous. And, I mean, I'm not sure WHY. Since we live fairly close to home, it's not uncommon for us to head home. Further, given that we both have busy schedules that don't always synch up nicely, it's not uncommon for one of us to head home alone. Plus, with conferences and such, I travel fairly often alone (a few times a year at least). But whenever we're apart like this, I always feel sorta.... lost. I stay busy. On Thursday evening, I watched a movie. Last night (Friday), I talked to my parents and sister on the phone, then I visited with our neighbors upstairs. I watched another movie. (The two movies were pretty crummy: Nathalie, a steamy French movie about sex that was terribly banal, and Havoc, one of those "bored white teenagers fall in with the wrong crowd movies" that always smack of racism to me; the best bits were the very naked scenes by the impossibly lovely Anne Hathaway). Today, I talked to my grandmother, went downtown saw a movie (the surprisingly slick and fun Disturbia), and wandered about a bit. Tonight, I'll talk to my wife and do some work. Maybe I'll read some. (I've been reading Sweet and Low by Rich Cohen, which is the personal history of the sugar substitute by the same name - really great read). So, I'm not moping around. But I still always feel kinda.... lost.
It's times like this where I'm just sort of stunned by how central my wife is to my life. I love her to bits, but like some bad pop song, I don't realize how much I love her until she's not right here. I don't feel "boring" when we're sitting on the couch doing homework or watching bad TV. It just feels like ... living then. It's not scary to me - but it makes me *scared.* It makes me worry about her, and what I would do if she wasn't here with me. I'm a worrier, so of course my thoughts turn all morbid right?
It also doesn't help that I was "out of commission" with a cold all week, and I could go for some, um, *marital responsibilities* if you know what I mean.
Tomorrow, she comes home and we go and see Regina Spektor. So good times are around the corner.
In other news, E (the advisor) is apparently trying to kill me and/or drive me insane. In a slow, bitter way. A few weeks ago, I applied for a summer grant. Since the application was easy and open to grad students in three divisions, I figured my odds were pretty low of getting it. And, shore'nuff, I got a letter last week rejecting me. I just shrugged it off.
On Friday, P (the director of graduate studies) came to my desk (outside E's office) and asked to talk to me in his office - implying this was private/E wasn't supposed to hear. It all seemed sort of ominous and random, and I immediately started scouring my head for anything terrible I'd done lately (Catholic guilty conscience - overdrive mode!). When we get to his office, P asks about the summer grant. He asks if I'd had plans to travel and do archival work, because E's letter said that my summer plans included travel. But my personal statement for the grant had only talked about staying in Chicago and working on my methodology. And my stomach sort of dropped as I confirmed that I wasn't planning on traveling and P sent me on my way.
I reminded E about the letter several times. I sent him my statement. I sit outside his office all day, every day. I told him what was in my statement.
What he did was print off a letter *from last summer* for *another grand I had applied for* when I had *mentioned travel as a possible reason for needing the grant.*
I mean: FUCK!
I dunno why P asked me about this summer grant issue. Maybe he thought he could find money for me somewhere else, for travel. Maybe E is up for a promotion or some departmental task (I've heard he could be considered for chair being bandied about), and this was a part of some kind of evaluation. Maybe P just wanted to know if I was a fucking idiot. Who knows. But Damn. I didn't *need-NEED* the money, and my odds of getting it were slim regardless. But there's something frustrating about getting cut in the first round (probably) for such a fucking moronic reason. E: I shake my fist at you and the gods!
And what sucks is that there's not much I can do about this now. Confront him? To what end? I guess I'll just need to keep a closer eye on him from here on out. All this fucking babysitting of professors gets fucking old man. I want to know at what point you become a total spazz? Is it tenure? Full professorship? When do you become unable to handle basic human tasks? [Like the professor who showed up this week for a workshop, despite the fact we had reschedule his appearance for a MONTH FROM NOW, and sent us all into a mad scramble. Seriously: What. The. Hell?) So it goes.
In further E news: he apparently also wants to totally rehaul my dissertation, and sort of "pussify" it in my opinion. Basically, after the workshop, he had some sort of a freak out that my theoretical interests were too "odd," and he wants to strip out alllll the stuff I love about my dissertation and make it really boring. He assures me "this happens" and I can "work the stuff I like back into the book." It sort of freaked me out. Sort of a lot. I felt like I'd made all these mistakes, and was dumb, and had wasted a bunch of time. I didn't know what to do next. Then, I realized he's full of shit. Kinda.
This is a *thing* that he does that I find frustrating. He's really quite mercurial, despite his "cool dude" persona. One day, he'll talk about how I should write my dissertation as some mad philosophical treatise based all around historical texts. The next day, he'll back off and say that he's not an expert in those areas, and that I should write something very "mainstream" and sort of boring with lots of linear regressions (even where inappropriate, which is a fucking malady of the discipline IMHO).
I'm not naive, and I don't advocate *ignoring* the market or the field as a whole. I mean, I picked political science and academia (mostly) knowing what this beast was. But that said, I'd still like to keep some of what I love about my project, you know, in the fucking project. I like E, he's a smart, curious guy; a savvy academic (when it comes to think likes employment and publication); and he has an interesting perspective on work. But at times I think I chose badly by making him chair/he misled me in how to frame and develop my question. It's funny. On the same day he was trying to back off on my dissertation, my 3rd reader L (a fantastic sociologist) sent me comments on the same chapter that were summed up with: "This needs tons of work still, but you're off to a good start and this is interesting stuff." Since my 2nd reader (my other political scientist) is the dean, he's a bit absentia. More and more, L is becoming an important interlocutor for me. She's much more my audience than E in some ways, and more on board theoretically and methodologically. So yea! Sociology seems like such a *saner* discipline by the way - less pressure to explain *everything* with rational choice, more open to odd topics, more methodologically diverse etc.
Basically, I've decided that I could be REALLY unhappy writing this dissertation by doing it the way E wants, and maybe *slightly* increase my odds on the market. Or, I could do the project I want (within reason - taking *some* of E's market oriented advice) and *enjoy* it and hope that others find the work odd, but intriguing, and count on that to get me placement. Either way, there's a risk. And I think I'm willing to get on my own (relative) short-term happiness. 'Cause I could do everything E says, and STILL get a crummy job - just given the realities of the market. So you gotta take what you can get. I don't need to be at an Ivy or a Big 10 to be happy in this profession, and I'm OK with that.
All right. That's enough of that. I'm going to putz around and listen to my new CDs.
VIEW 8 of 8 COMMENTS
As for why we don't get that same sort of inventiveness and creativity in the movies vs in comics: not only are movies more expensive, they are mass market. By their very nature, comics are niche products. People that read comics are much more invested in them because its not like you and your friends can go down to the corner multiplex and check out 20 different comics along with a packed house. Because you have to kinda work at getting comics in the first place, readers can tend to be more accepting of change. Besides, we've been conditioned to accept the change because most of these stories have been continuously told since before WWII. Change is a constant in the industry, just to stay relevant and fresh. I'm sure if my grand kids are getting new Star Wars movies, they'll look different from A New Hope.
They tried to shove way too much into the movie and the ending just came off as slapdash and rushed. Also, I've never liked Tobey or Kirstin in the movies, and the fact that Topher Grace and James Franco stole the movie from them just made matters worse.