The Perils of Carine (a.k.a. Pathetic and Sad, But Social)

Post 17. Regrouping, or Feeling Crummy but Pressing On

2006-02-27T07:05:00.000Z

As an update, I am posting here a cut-and-pasted version of the post I just made to the Off-Topic Board at PhinisheD:

"I do not think that I am going to be able to make the [February 28] deadline [for the revised thesis].
"Wah!
"I am trying right now to do an inventory to see how much work is needed to get the thing done, and where that puts me in terms of a completion date.
"My preliminary inventory placed me at March 5 -- ugh -- which I know means that I can kiss an interview for the tenure track job (whose hiring committee wanted my thesis ASAP) goodbye. (I'd been upset that my projected workload for the week will also have to include either a whole or a half day spent completing the post-doc app for a joint research project with my advisor, but now that I have very likely torched myself for the tenure-track job, it is more important than ever that I make time for this! I have another post-doc app due this week; [another] is due March 15.)
"Anyhoo, I want to do another, more specific inventory today to be sure that the target date will work.
...
"Feeling Crummy But Pressing On,
":( 'Carine'"

Since making that post, I have discovered one bit of good news: the number of post-doc applications that I have to sweat this week has decreased from two to one, as I read the small-print and discovered that the March 1 applicaton is open only to folks with Ph.D. in hand. (To be fair, someone in the department that offers this post-doc asked me to apply -- but she also thought at that point that I would be phinished by now. Or, at least, I *think* that she did. ... Ugh. Yes, notifying the department would clarify everything, but I do not have the heart to contact the department to check: having one less thing to worry about this week is a gift, and I am going to run with it. So the post-doc for my advisor is the only one that I am going to worry about over the next few days.)

Still Feeling Crummy, Still Pressing On,

: ( "Carine"

Post 16. All Apologies

2006-02-26T07:10:00.000Z

Folks, I just wanted to apologize for my last post-cum-rant. I'm gettin' a little squirrely from stress.

In other news, I am making s-l-o-w progress on the weekend goals -- so slow, in fact, that I am actually happy to have the distraction of grading, the task to which I had to turn my attention last night. (I neglected my online students shamelessly last week, so I figure that the least I can do for them is get their marks for Unit 4 -- which ended last night -- turned around as quickly as possible. Of course, that my two online sections will also be audited on Tuesday adds an extra bit of motivation. ...)

This is more of a leavening activity than a permanent escape, though: I am hoping to intersperse the grading with the thesis hell for the next 36 hours in order to keep my job while still making thesis progress. Fun.

Onward,

: ) "Carine"

Post 15. Rage Motivates, or My Weekend Plans

2006-02-24T08:04:00.000Z

WARNING: The following was written by a woman who has been made quite 'testy' by thesis stress. The post thus contains a bit of swearing.

I have really been dragging for the past week. I have been depressed and quasi-productive, getting very little done. Tonight, a break in these clouds came – surprisingly, as the result of a most vexing conversation.

The conversation was with a friend (Possibly-Gay Paris Boy (PGPB), first mentioned here) with whom I have an increasingly tense and, sadly, somewhat competitive relationship, with the 'competitive' part being decidedly one-sided. That is, I cheer him on when he does well, and he generally does the same for me -- but sometimes he feels that I can be a bit “over-ambitious” and can have “unrealistic expectations” for myself. (Nevermind the fact that if I didn't have such expectations and ambitions, life would have permanently kicked my ass a long time ago; in fact, there would have been no way for under-funded little me to make it this far in this Ph.D. program. But I digress.)

At any rate, speaking about my recent blockage, he was at first very soothing, but then said, “You just have to realize that you are not super-human; you can't do everything.”

Um – what?

“I don't mean that your original plan was unrealistic: you could have succeeded in the plan to get the draft ready for the hiring committee at that tenure-track job by the end of February had you not had this recent bad patch.”

Gee, thanks, m-----f-----.

“The thing is that one has to budget for such bad patches, and you never do. You take on so much -- the thesis, teaching, writing articles to publish, etc. -- and think that you can always just push your way through using sheer force of will. It's enough that you have planned to hand the thesis in several months early; to ask yourself to turn in an additional copy to a hiring committee during this period really is too much.”

Okey-dokey, let's look at this logically.

Have I contracted to file my thesis early (i.e. by April 1, seven months ahead of the official departmental/university deadline) because I crave honor and glory? No: I am trying to do it because I am: (a) a self-funded student with little money to get me through the academic year and (b) an American who is trying to get a job within the U.S. system, which expects serious candidates for Autumn 2006 jobs to at least be able to show that their theses are finished.

Do I teach (online, for schools back home in the U.S.) while writing up the thesis because it makes me feel like a superior human being? No: I do so because I have gotten used to little luxuries like food and shelter. (I'm extravagant that way, and I have so little dough left over after I use my U.S. Student Loans to pay tuition that I have no choice but to teach.)

And did I volunteer to complete a revised draft of the thesis even earlier than my pre-set April 1 deadline, perhaps to prove how studly I am? No: the hiring committee at the tenure-track job for which I have applied has asked me to try to complete as quickly as possible.

I know that, given the fact that I have reached the hair-trigger-temper stage of thesis-writing, it is possible that I am being irrational here -- but I wanted to reach through the 'phone and whack PGPB upside the head with a blunt object! That PGPB and I have had similar conversations in the past doubtless contributed to my rage. I seethed for hours after hanging up the phone.

Parodoxically, I am also grateful. Indeed, since this conversation, I have been a hive of industry: the writer's block and organizational panic are both long gone. I guess I am the writing equivalent of a method actor: give me a bit of anger, and I will 'use it' like an actor's 'object of concentration' -- for my own writing ends.

While breaking through my block is welcome treat enough, I hope that the anger that I felt after that conversation can get me through the next several days in ways that actually help me to produce. The days between today and Tuesday are not going to be fun: I still feel overwhelmed, overworked, and generally miserable. (i.e. I know that Jack Abbott and George Jackson both wrote great books in prison, but spending sixteen hours per day writing thesis revisions in a 9' x 11' room off of a corridor is a fate that I would not wish on my worst enemy. I have never been in a writing situation this horrible.) But, with a bit of pure rage to 'use', here's hoping that I'll be like Lee J. Cobb 'using' the impressions from his elephant exercises to help him bring the requisite 'heaviness' to his portrayal of Willy Loman. (“What?!?” you ask. The link tells all.)

Onward!

: ) “Carine”

P.S. My anger levels where PGPB are concerned have been building for awhile now. This time last week, he gave me a present: a brand new, expensive electronic enhancement to attach to my computer for entertainment as I work. He presented it with a flourish. I left it under my desk at the Ph.D. Room, to which I travel about once a month at this point, instead of bringing it home. Hmmn.

Post 14. The Jedi Mind Trick, Thesis-Style

2006-02-17T05:23:00.000Z

My deadline for the revised version of the thesis is February 28th. It has always been February 28th. [1]

What's that? You say that you remember me saying, both here in this blog and at PhinisheD, that my goal for the revised version of the thesis was February 21st?

Oh, silly you! You're so cute when you're delusional and confused. I never, ever mentioned a February 21st goal for completion of the revised draft. The dealine has always been February 28th. Yes, always.

And, by the way: these aren't the two droids that you're looking for, thank you very much!

Channeling Sir Alec Guinness,

: ) "Carine"

[1] While we're at it, please allow me to mix cinematic allusions by noting that I'm the caretaker here. I have always been the caretaker here. I just wonder how my supervisory committee will react when they see that my revised thesis consists of a couple of hundred pages of "All work and no play makes 'Carine' a dull girl." ...

Post (Lucky) 13. I Plod, Therefore I Am

2006-02-07T20:16:00.000Z

Nothin' to see here, folks: just one woman ... plodding.

A much-missed old friend who used to post regularly at PhinisheD made "Plod On" her slogan -- and passed it on to a lot of us.

So that's what I've been thinking for the past several days. I'm plodding on, and I must keep plodding!

The inter-related factors of time and work outputs are both of the essence. The 2006-2007 job for which I have applied, as described in my last post (http://updatedcarinebichet.blogspot.com/2006/01/post-12-working-day-and-night.html), wants to see a completed thesis as soon as possible -- presumably, so that they can be sure that I am really going to be finished in time to start the job next summer, should they choose to hire me. This means that, although I would need to have a good copy of the whole thesis in the ands of my Ph.D. supervisor and co-supervisor by mid-March anyway in order to make the April 1, 2006 deadline for submission of the completed thesis to the university, I must now revise a 'clean', readable, high-five-worthy draft of the thesis much sooner than then.

Thus, the deadline that I set for the completion of such a revised version of the thesis is the start of the final week of February 2006.

For this reason, my life over the next two weeks is not going to be fun. I can already feel the pinch. Settling into this super-charged version of “revision mode” is the hardest thing: it is getting difficult to force myself to concentrate. Recent distractions have included, among other things, my supervisor's return to Crazy Mode after a few, precious months of uncharacteristically reasonable behavior.[1]

In addition, I have had some goofy problems with my computer. (Not that I am saying anything bad about my computer, upon which I am currently composing this message. No siree: I, who know all too well that the computer gods smite those who badmouth their machines, would never say anything bad about my computer in the final weeks before a major set of deadlines. Nice computer. Good computer. Sweet and valued computer.)

Since it was mainly MS Word that was going crazy -- never a good thing when one is composing an entire thesis in that software! -- I have installed the PortableApps version of OpenOffice (http://portableapps.com/apps/office/suites/portable_openoffice) on a 3 GB USB key that I bought, and am trying to forge ahead with the writing in this new environment.

Truth be told, this is also a clever way to trick my brain into a new revision mode, as it as given me an excuse to transcribe new versions into the OpenOffice Writer word processing program, making changes as I go. Instead of agonizing over every word, as I was in MS Word, I am simply typing the stuff into the new format. It's working for now, but I know that my brain will soon say, “Hey, wait a minute! Just who does this broad think she's fooling? We're *revising* here, not just transcribing, and that's a process that must be agonizing and slow -- especially when I, 'Carine's higher brain, insist on dragging out the process for as long as possible!” Thus, I am trying to write as rapidly as I can while the trick is working...

At any rate, we'll see how everything goes. Come what may, and whatever 'tricks' it takes, I have to keep on plodding!

I Plod, Therefore I Am,
: ) “Carine”

[1]Last week, she had a bee in her bonnet about me accepting a short-term academic consultancy back in the U.S. between filing the thesis and taking the viva -- despite the fact that I can (and did) name ten students who have taken similar jobs before the viva in recent years. When our department chair -- who also happens to be my co-supervisor -- weighed in on my side, my supervisor apologized for being “overprotective.” I need this crap when I am trying to complete my thesis? Ugh!

Post 12. Working Day And Night

2006-01-28T14:06:00.000Z

My apologies to Michael Jackson for nicking the title of one of his best songs! [1]

Hello, all! I hope that everyone has had a good January.

A more substantial update is forthcoming at some point soon, but I wanted to do a quick check-in now.

For the past several weeks, I have been a woman hard at work. My on-going thesis revision and re-writing, close-outs of my Fall 2005 quarter teaching, and start of my Winter 2006 quarter teaching have all kept me insanely busy. But the whopper, in terms of time demands, has been my work on the first of my formal job/postdoc applications. As I tidied up my Inbox this morning, I noticed that 90 messages -- yes *ninety* -- have flown between me, my recommenders, and the head of the hiring committee for this first job. And that’s not even counting all of the e-mails I’ve exchanged with the dossier service with which I worked to coordinate the delivery of application materials to the school in question.

Looking at this e-mail cache this morning, I thought to myself, “Damn – no wonder I’m so tired!” And all of this was for one job: I have one more job (formal application opens in March/April), two more postdocs, and a one-year temporary job left to go. (Still not sure of I am going to apply for the one-year temp position. …) Many folks I know, including PhinisheD (http://www.phinished.org) stalwarts suzistarlite and Tabitha Grimalkin (http://tabithateaches.blogspot.com), have been doing such applications regularly for many months. I have whole new respect for their ability to keep up with this labor-intensive process – and clearly have no right to complain!

So, onward! And good luck to everyone else who is hard at it right now!

Best,

: ) “Carine”

[1] Doesn't it break your heart to remember the days when “Working Day And Night” was a toe-tapper that you could enjoy without guilt because Michael Jackson was a cool, sane, and immensely talented young man with brown skin and a full nose? At least we've got Off The Wall (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Off_the_Wall) to remind us of those glory days. ...

Post 11. Draft Update: "Ain't gonna be no re-match!"

2006-01-10T04:47:00.000Z

Later on, I will likely post a meatier update (based on the characteristically l-o-n-g update that I sent to my e-mail support group a few hours ago), but I wanted to be sure to post at least a quick update to let the good people who have supported me via this blog over the past several weeks know that I made my most recent deadline.

Yes, you read that right: I completed a draft of the five body chapters[*] and introductory chapter of my thesis on 01/07/05 -- just in time to present it to my supervisor at her Saturday night dinner party, as promised!

What’s more, my supervisor – who was kind enough to spend all day on Sunday reading the entire thing – has said that even in its mega-rough state, she likes the work, now knows that I will be able to make my April 1, 2006 final submission deadline, and is willing to attest to the latter fact in recommendation letters for jobs/post-docs.

Huzzah!

I am just too thrilled about this, people!

The support that I have gotten from so many of you over the past few weeks has made all of the difference to me. Thank you so much!

I now have several crazy weeks of serious revisions and re-writes ahead of me, as my draft was very … well … drafty. But with the draft done, I can well and truly see the light at the end of the tunnel – and be assured that it isn’t a train! I am, knock wood, truly within a reasonable distance of my goal of completing this thesis and getting my Ph.D.

Huzzah, again!

Finally, let me add something that is likely going to sound crazy. Although I know that the next few weeks of revisions and re-writes are going to be intense and often painful going, I feel that this refinement process is going to be almost enjoyable compared to the work of completing the first draft. Isn’t that nuts? Given my psychological make-up and the agonies that I face in just getting stuff down on paper, I truly feel that, now that I have completed the rough draft, the hardest part is over. In fact, I feel thrilled as all get-out that I will never again have to write a first draft of this thesis! How strange is that? Revision is hell, but nowhere near as hellish (for me personally) as de novo creation.

To flip the Rocky analogy of my last blog entry, I guess I am like Apollo Creed (Carl Weathers) when it comes to my feeling about getting a complete first draft of this thesis done and dusted. As Apollo staggers around the ring at the end of the first Rocky film, having won the match against Rocky Balboa but having sustained serious injuries in the process, he repeatedly stammers to his trainers, “Ain’t gonna be no re-match!”

Amen, brother! I have gone twelve rounds with this first draft – and although it has blackened both of my eyes, broken many of my ribs, ruptured my spleen, and even chewed my ear Mike Tyson style, I have put the damned thing behind me. At last I can say, “Ain’t gonna be no re-match!”

Thanks again for your support, friends! Onward to several weeks of revisions!

Headed to the Locker Room to Get Stitched Up and Have a Rubdown,

: ) “Carine”

[*] One of the best things about the process of putting all of the work together in the final days was the unexpected discovery that, contrary to what I have written in previous blog entries, the first chapter stands alone and doesn’t need to be folded into the second. Yippee!

Post 10. Rocky's Deus Ex Machina

2006-01-04T21:18:00.000Z

I am *so* not done with these body chapters. (Relatively) close, but no cigar.

I was dreading e-mailing my primary supervisor to tell her this -- when, this morning at 10:00 AM, I received an e-mail message from her inviting me (along with Possibly Gay Paris Boy; ugh) to her house on Saturday night for a dinner party that she is holding for her neighbors in the small, suburban town where she lives. "Bring the chapters with you," she wrote. "That gives you a few extra days to work on them."

And how!

The three extra days are much appreciated. I was so grateful for this Deus Ex Machina that I let out a whoop right there at my computer. Yippee!

I have spent much of the past week completing substantive-e-mail-and-CV packages for the three jobs for which I postponed applying in the Autumn, as there was no way that I could wait beyond the first week of January to do it. (And even that might be too late; we'll see what sort of replies I get.) As a result, the thesis has received my attention, but has also been somewhat on the back burner. I hope to make the most of these three days of front-burnerage. (Sorry; I'm making up my own words now!) I still have a bit of grading to do, but that should be quick work, generally speaking. So, onward!

As I recently wrote in an e-mail to my faculty mentor (who moved from England to the U.S. in October but is still involved in my writing), the twists and turns that have attended my work on this draft have been so plentiful that I am yet again picturing myself as the academic equivalent of Rocky Balboa -- the 'loser' who became a 'winner' of sorts through sheer persistence.

I have three extra days. Here's to making the most of them!

[Cue "Gonna Fly Now" theme music and training montage from Rocky.] Instead of training for the big fight, I'm fighting to complete these chapters. Instead of drinking raw eggs, I am snarfing whatever is on sale at ASDA. And instead of punching sides of beef, I'm thumping notebooks, yelling, “Damnit, why didn’t I take clearer notes at the archive?!?”

Rocky wanted to "fly"; at this point, I'd settle for a nice hover.

Gonna Hover Now,

: ) "Carine"

P.S. Totally unrelated bit: At some point soon, I want to post a tribute to comedic genius and cultural wonder Richard Pryor, who is one of my heroes. I was devastated when news of his death reached me in England, so I truly felt that I ‘couldn’t go there’ right away in terms of writing about it: too many ideas and reactions to process. (I was also a bit peeved about BBC Radio 4’s initial, “wasn’t-he-just-that-foul-mouthed-drug-addict-who-once-set-fire-to-himself” newscopy concerning Pryor’s death. I was pleased that they eventually got it together enough to consider Pryor’s other claims to fame – led, in no small part by a man whom I have previously slagged off in this very blog: Lenny Henry. Henry’s comedy still falls flat with me: his early attempts to be a hard-edged visionary in the mold of Pryor, the great Dave Chappelle, or Chris Rock’s early stand-up were false and unfunny; meanwhile, his later attempts to stake out the safe-for-prime-time territory of Flip Wilson and Bill Cosby were poorly-written, poorly-acted, and [again!] unfunny. [The one exception is a brilliant prime-time stand-up routine of Henry’s in which he recalls how his very Jamaican dad would hijack the t.v. during children’s hour to watch soccer – only to spend the entire match having to endure the kids’ sobbing for the return of their t.v. program. “Damn ‘Crackerjack’!” his dad grumbles as the kids’ crying ruins his enjoyment of a great play.] Despite the fact that I remain unimpressed with Henry’s comedy, I am extremely grateful to Henry for the segment he helped to prepare for Radio 4, explaining Pryor’s enormous cultural significance on both sides of the Atlantic – and his considerable political significance among Black folks in the U.S. in the 1970s. Well done, Mr. Henry!) Rest in peace at last, dear Richard. We loved you. Thanks so much for sharing your vision with us.

Post 9. Got Locusts?

2005-12-27T23:35:00.000Z

In one of the funniest moments of the classic, 1970s, police-department sitcom Barney Miller, the cop played by great character actor Jack Soo ruminates on the privations of his childhood. In times of trouble, he recalls, his father would often soothe his wife and children by observing, “Things may be bad, but at least we ain’t got locusts.” After my parents’ divorce, as my mother struggled to complete first a Master’s degree and then a Ph.D. while raising two small children with very little financial support and no direct contact from my father, Barney Miller was a Bichet family favorite – and Jack Soo’s great line entered into our family’s shorthand. Whether we were staring at a letter from our landlord saying that we had to be out of our apartment by the end of the month because our rent was in arrears, or simply coming home from work and school to discover that the electric company had cut our power and that the three off us would have to live by flashlight during the weeks it would take to pay our bill, one of the three of us would invariably quip, “Things may be bad, but at least we ain’t got locusts,” and the three of us would fall about laughing – feeling not only soothed, but also protected. Somehow, the phrase didn’t just give comfort and dissipate fear; it also gave thanks, acknowledging that things could, in fact, easily have been worse.

I thought about that this evening, as I reflected upon the past few days. This afternoon, I arrived back ‘home’ (i.e. distressingly grubby university dormitory) after spending a great Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and Boxing Day with a lovely colleague and her equally lovely family.

I was immensely grateful to be taken in, and I had a lovely time, but at several points during my time at my friend’s house, it occurred to me that depression was going to descend upon me once I’d returned to my hall of residence to spend the rest of the holiday alone and stressed out over the urgent projects that I must complete by the first week of January. I felt as if I were sitting around a campfire, warm and safe and secure in a circle of fellow travelers – but with a darkness full of wolfish duties crouched and waiting for me just outside the campfire’s glow.

With that in mind, I made the most of the light while I could, but willingly stepped back into the darkness when my friend dropped me off back at the dorm today. The darkness, it seems, is where I belong at this stage of life: I don’t have a family, or a nice house, or surplus money in the bank, or any of the other things that, taken together, made up my friend’s campfire. Most importantly, I don’t have a finished thesis, and it is in service of a completed thesis and a Ph.D. that I live the way that I do – and the way I have for some time now. The dual dream of a completed thesis and a Ph.D. will keep me here for the rest of the holiday, duty-bound to work regardless of the distractions, temptations, or trials that might come my way.

And the distractions, temptations, and trials are already here “in full effect,” as b-boys used to say. Sitting down to work tonight, I noted that my list of petty, old-womanish gripes is endless. My stomach is in knots because of the expanded diet that I enjoyed at my friend’s house.[1] I am itchy as all hell because my pityriasis versicolor is very much out of remission. (e.g My neck is so scaly from the pityriasis and scabby from the ravages of my almost involuntary scratching that I’ve worn a scarf every waking moment for the past three days. Luckily, it’s a pretty batik scarf that my mom gave me for my birthday two years ago, so I’ve gotten lots of compliments. If you’re going to have to suffer as several layers of your skin either warp and crack like a frozen pond or crumble like a cookie, you might as well do it in style, right?) My back and butt are also covered – again! – in bloody scratches, as the Christmas return to the bad-old-days of the skin condition caught me so unawares that I lacerated myself in my sleep before I could revive the nightly ritual of covering my hands in socks or mittens, a practice that sustained me when pityriasis first struck late last summer.

But wait – there’s more! I feel like I have jet-lag because, while I was at my friend’s house, I had to re-set the vampire-like circadian rhythms that have powered my nocturnal working schedule for the past several weeks. I am having to sit on my hands to keep from making a desperate telephone call to re-schedule a budget New Year’s Eve trip to Paris – a trip that I canceled not only because I need to conserve precious funds and thesis-writing time, but also because I am desperately, stupidly in love with the person who was supposed to be making the trip with me, and I know that loving him is a futile bit of poor judgment.[2] And I am sick with the knowledge that I’ll need to spend at least part of the break drafting e-mail queries to all of the selection committees of the postdocs and jobs for which I was supposed to apply this autumn, asking if the posts are still available now that I am finally nearing a full draft of the thesis.

Ah, yes – the thesis. That’s the both the biggest gripe in my long, long list of gripes and the one balm that makes everything else on the list seem endurable. (Funny, that.) I spoke to my supervisor on December 22 and pushed back the completion date for the body chapters yet again, so that I am now scheduled to submit it to her and my co-supervisor (our department chair) on January 4, 2006. This gives neither supervisor enough time to write letters – confirming my nearly-doneness, don’cha know – for the Dream Postdoc with the January 15, 2006 deadline, but them’s the breaks. (If my graduate school experience were to end with me doing anything other than selling pencils from a tin cup on the sidewalk, it would be anti-climactic, so the Dream Postdoc going belly-up fits right in with the script.)

And yet, I still feel hopeful – surely a sign that I really have lost my mind. My online students are off until January 3, so I have some uninterrupted time to work on the Big T. I have streamlined the thesis chapters so that I know that I really am close to being done – something that I talked through with my supervisor last week, and with my friend at her house during Christmas. I have a few good friends here who look out for me. (Sadly, my U.K. best friend of three years is The Possibly-Gay Paris Boy; dealing with the gap left by my retreat from that friendship is a work in progress.) Without the Paris trip soaking up what few resources I do have, I have enough money to perhaps consider planning a day trip for myself if I meet my January deadlines. That I must say 'deadlines' -- because I have a book chapter and a journal article to complete by the end of January after I complete the draft of the thesis chapters -- actually brings up something else for which I can be grateful: folks appreciate my work enough to offer me publication.

I’d be lying if I said that -- with my skin feeling as if it is quite literally crawling and my heart in tatters and my spirit lonely and my family so far away that I have fogotten how dysfunctional and cazy they are and actually miss them -- I didn’t feel a bit depressed overall. But I’m still unable to shake my persistent, crazy hope: I have an opportunity to complete a thesis and earn a Ph.D. -- and, despite the impediments that the Universe and I myself have placed in my path, it looks as if I just might make it.

In other words, things may be bad, but at least I ain’t got locusts.

Belated Holiday- & Locust-Free Wishes,

: ) “Carine”

[1] When people are fussing over menus and cooking up a storm, it is so much easier to go along with the crowd – and avoid being a rude guest – instead of explaining the gastrointestinal upset that occurs when I eat grain, sugar, milk, etc. Moreover, in all honesty, I’ve been carrying such a low-grade blues that a little comfort food was much appreciated, even if it was made of things that make my G-I tract scream, “‘Carine,’ I’ll get you for this!”And so I was polite and enjoyed some treats besides – and have spent the past three nights bloated, gassy, and forging a close, personal relationship with the toilet in my friend's guest-bathroom. On the bright side, since I was at my friend’s lovely home instead of here in Filthy Towers, it was at least a nice, clean toilet. I must also say that, even as I spent the night after Christmas dinner stretched on the floor of my friend’s guest room clutching my stomach, I still thought that the pecan stuffing, mince pies, and Christmas pudding with custard, crème fraiche, and rum sauce were worth it.

[2] Because I have a lifelong record of crappy romantic choices to live up to, I’ve made this one a two-fer: the fact that he is, by his own intimation, very likely gay is actually second to the fact that he just plain doesn’t love me back. (Kids, don’t try such stunts at home; leave them to licensed professionals like me!)

Post 8. With A Little Help from My Cyber-Friends, or "It's 106 Miles to Chicago ..."

2005-12-20T03:51:00.000Z

Lately, many of the people whom I know in the real world (the link is temporary and will no longer work in a week or two) have been working my nerves like a part-time job -- while, in contrast, cyber-pals from PhinisheD, some of whom I haven't seen in years but have recently re-discovered through this blog, have proved to be an endless source of comfort, support, and inspiration.

Reading the words of such cyber-friends, I am reminded of just how far I have come over the years.

And this, in turn, helps me to realize that victory is not to the swift, but instead to those who keep 'plodding on' until the end of the road -- as C, another friend whom I initially met at PhinisheD, has always put it. As another old PhinisheD buddy, rosmar, recently reminded me, I used to be fond of quoting that scene from The Blues Brothers that exemplifies the need to continue to move forward despite the exigencies of the situation:

ELWOOD: It's 106 miles to Chicago, we've got a full tank of gas, a half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses.
JAKE: Let's hit it!

Here's to compatriots from great online communities who have seen one through so many tough times through the years that they can remind one of the techniques that have helped one to survive from those times to the present -- and that might, just might, see one through again.

Thanks, everyone. Onward!

Let's Hit It!,

: ) "Carine"

Post 7. Goodbye, December 13: Is This What Wisdom Feels Like?

2005-12-12T18:33:00.000Z

During my last Ph.D. program -- a five- to nine-year program back home in the U.S. which I fled, rather ignominiously, about 3/4 of the way through -- my advisor made an interesting comment during a meeting with me. "'Carine', he said, "let me tell you something I learned a long time ago. The willingness to alter a plan so that you can work smart in addition to working hard is the beginning of wisdom."

By the time I dropped out of the program four years later, I hated my advisor so much that I could have beaten him unconscious with a stick and then done a dance of joy around his crumpled body, but I must admit that his advice still resonates with me.

I thought about it this weekend, as I realized that my plan to complete a draft of the body chapters of my thesis by December 13 was not going to work: no way was I going to make the deadline.

"Okay," I challenged myself, "I'm really upset that you are not going to make December 13. But what *can* you do? In other words, what new deadline works, and what completion plan will help you to meet it?" And then I thought to myself: "If I don't have this done by Christmas, I'll go nuts. Plus, I have to show my Supervisory Team a virtually-completed thesis as quickly as possible in order to gain their endorsement for jobs. So, Christmas is, by default, the new deadline."

Then I thought, "One way to get things done by Christmas is to cut down the size of the job by ruling out any and all revising: I’ll save the revising of pre-existing chapters until after Christmas." Is this 'cheating'? You bet, especially considering the fact that one of my two completed chapters needs to be heavily re-written to accommodate stuff from two new archives – archives that I found *after* completing and submitting the first draft of the chapter some time ago. But them's the breaks: cheating or not, the revising of my two, previously-submitted chapters can wait until after Christmas.

Finally, I thought: "Time for the biggie. How, exactly, can you complete your work on the three remaining chapters in order to meet this new, Christmas deadline?" I already have 7,500- to 13,500-word 'proto-drafts' of each chapter on paper. (These are the drafts that I recently reshaped via application of the 'System' that I've mentioned in previous posts.) Judging from what needs to be done in order to add new stuff to and to smooth down existing stuff within each chapter, I am looking at a completion time of four days per chapter. Could be more, could be less, but four days seems to be the basic amount of time needed when I assess what needs to be done in each chapter. This means that, now that I am excluding from my plan the two, previously-submitted chapters that need to be revised, I have three chapters to convert into full-fledged drafts on a time-line of four days each, for a total of twelve working days.

December 12 (today) plus twelve days brings me to Christmas Eve. Thus, I'll have completed the draft before Christmas.

I wrote up this new plan and submitted it via e-mail to my Supervisory Team this afternoon -- by way of explaining why they won't be getting five chapters all tied up with a bow tomorrow, and showing them (hopefully) that I *do* have a plan for moving forward and am therefore not a total loser.

So, I have done what my old advisor -- a very accomplished scholar, for all of his personal idiocy -- advocated: I have altered a plan so that, over the next twelve days (not including today), I can work smart instead of just working hard. I wonder, though: why is it that 'wisdom' feels so much like 'failure'?

Wise but Glum,
"Carine"

Post 6: Sixo Goes to Grad School: December 13 or Bust!

2005-12-07T09:15:00.000Z

Remember that Saturday, December 3 "internal deadline" that I set for completion of the rough draft of the five body chapters of my thesis (in advance of the quasi-official, December 13 date scheduled for submission of said draft to my Supervisory Team)? It came ... and went … and I am still working. I've made headway, to be sure, but it isn't headway of the clean, cohesive, or complete variety: I have quite a bit of work left to do.

For several years now, I have joked with my family that I am like Sixo -- the "salt-water African" in Toni Morrison's Beloved -- who overcooks potatoes and undercooks ears of corn and is always late on dangerous trips to meet his lover in the woods because, in Morrison's words, he just doesn't "understand the way that time works." While the ability to exist outside of linear time that makes Sixo such a lousy corn-roaster also makes him permanently resistant to slavery's "breaking in" process, it only makes me a roaster of key calculations and important deadlines. I never seem to be able to gauge how long anything is going to take!

It hasn’t helped that the past two weeks have been loopy – especially given the unexpected arrival of the quarterly, fortnight-long, 10-16 hours per week Faculty Development Course that I must complete each term for the outfit for which I teach. (We got one day's notice about this one, which began on November 18 and ended on December 2. Thanks, guys!) Toss in the Unit 3 grading and the midterm exams in my two sections -- about which I *did* know in advance but whose impacts I, Sixo-like, didn't consider -- and you've got a recipe for an uphill thesis battle.

However, I shouldn't make excuses for myself; Sixo never did, after all. Thus, I’ve done a little self-flagellation ("You suck, ‘Carine’!" an inner-voice yelled all last weekend), and I am now moving forward toward the *real*, December 13 draft deadline that I set with my Supervisory Team in October.

With this goal in mind, I rang my supervisor (just back from Kenya) on Monday night. She wants me to consider leaving the work until after Christmas – but she also says this without having seen any of my recent material, so she's not sure how close to (or far from) I am from the goal. So I've decided that I would much rather stick to the December 13 deadline. I need to spend the rest of December working on some publications that I need to have done by January and February, respectively. And, not surprisingly, I also need a bit of rest.

So, onward toward December 13. I hope that I can pull this off! I’m trying to remember that I need to silence my inner-critic and pursue what Anne Lamott calls “a sh---y first draft.” My mantra and goal is to “write the worst draft ever” (to crib the words of a great recent PhinisheD post) so that I can simply get the thing done.

Hoping to Temper Both My Inner-Critic and My Inner-Sixo by Dec. 13,

: ) "Carine"

Post 5. Lost in Translation, or 'Make Mine Funky!': Pants By Any Other Name

2005-11-30T00:21:00.000Z

I find that the old saw about England and the U.S. being 'two countries separated by a common language' is true often enough to make my life here interesting. Before I arrived for the Master's and Ph.D. programs, a previous visit to the U.K., coupled with Stateside exposure to British literature, film, and t.v., had given me enough information to translate English speech into American English. I knew, for example, that 'crisps' are 'chips' and that 'chips' are 'fries'; that 'gorgeous' means 'delicious' (and that 'nice' does, too); that 'suspenders' are 'garters'; and that a 'fag' is a 'cigarette' and not a fighting word.

Alas, daily life in-country has taught me that no amount of preparation can spare one from the dangers of the U.S./U.K. cognate: the word that looks the same and is spelled the same but has different meanings in U.S. and U.K. contexts -- like the aforementioned 'chips', 'suspenders', and 'fags'.

I was reminded of this just this afternoon, in a mortifying example that needs a bit of background to set it up for readers: Last week, when I opened the box of winter clothes that I had shipped to my U.K. address before leaving the U.S. last summer (at the end of 18-months of Stateside Ph.D. research), I was thrilled to dig out something that I'd bought just before leaving the country: a really great pair of stretchy, flowing, cotton-fleece, yoga slacks that I'd found on sale for $5.00 (marked down from $55.00). I'd packed the slacks thinking that two things would make them the perfect uniform for daily thesis-writing: first, that they were warm and comfortable, and second, that they had an outrageous, psychedelic pattern that would cheer me up on dark, rainy days when I was shut in working.

Still with me?

Okay, so late this afternoon, I'm sitting in my room here in the dorm, working away, when the telephone rings. It's my department's wonderful secretary, 'Grace', whom I count as a personal friend. She is calling to invite me to her house to have dinner with her and her husband this weekend. She is also calling to check up on me more generally: because I have stopped going to the department cold-turkey in favor of working at home, she hasn't seen me in weeks.

When Grace asks me how things are going, I tell her that I am postponing little domestic tasks in an attempt to accomplish as much work as possible before my upcoming deadline. For example, I say, while I did do a few loads of laundry last weekend, I am presently ignoring the bulging laundry bag in the corner of my room so that I can complete revisions of thesis chapters 2, 3, 4, and 5 by Saturday.

"Even as we speak," I say, "I'm sitting here in a funky pair of pants, working away."

I hear Grace gasp on the other end of the line, and then she cracks up.

Belatedly realizing that my recent talk of laundry might have conjured the second, olfactory sense of the term 'funky' for Grace -- and also knowing that Grace, a former hipster whose first husband was jazz drummer, will be familiar with both definitions of 'funky' -- I hurriedly add, "I don't mean that my pants are 'funky' in the unwashed sense of 'funky'; I mean that they are pants with a funky pattern. Naturally, I wash my pants."

"Oh, of course!" Grace says, calming down. "I know that you're far too fastidious to be sitting around in dirty pants -- although I did wonder if it might be a weird writing thing, like those baseball players in the U.S. who won't change their pants before a game."

"That's sort of the case," I explain, "but it's the crazy pattern on the pants, and not a lack of washing, that is talismanic for me at this point. I've noticed that just looking down at my funky little pants when I'm working cheers me up."

Grace is beginning to chuckle again.

Oblivious and on a roll, I continue. "I've gotten so much chapter re-writing completed since digging these pants out of my shipping box last week that I'm thinking of including a funky-pants thank-you on the acknowledgement page of the thesis when the time comes."

"Well, 'Carine'," Grace says, "you might not want to -- oh, hang on! In America, pants are trousers! You've been talking of funky trousers!"

It's then that I remember: in the U.K., 'pants' are equivalent to 'underpants' or 'panties.'[1]

Thus, for all Grace knew, I'd just spent several minutes waxing rhapsodic about the muse-like effects of my drawers.

But not just any drawers, thank you very much. Funky drawers.

Sigh. I love being a foreigner.

Charter Member of the Sisterhood of the Funky Pants,

: ) "Carine"

[1] For these reasons, 'pants' is also British slang equivalent to the U.S. usage of 'crappy' or 'sh---y', as in, "Lenny Henry may very well be a serviceable stand-up comedian, but Chef was pants."

Post 4. The Midnight Rider

2005-11-25T01:49:00.000Z

I have had to pull out the big gun: a recording of The Allman Brother's Band's "Midnight Rider" that I play in a continuous loop on my laptop when I am well and truly behind the eight-ball and feel like running away rather than tackling the task at hand.[1]

My wagon is most definitely draggin' after the marathon session last night – which stretched into this morning, afternoon, and evening (Greenwich Mean Time), with a ‘Functional Four’ hours of sleep grabbed along the way.

And yet, I can’t stop working. Thursday is supposed to be the one night per week when I go to bed at the same time as an ordinary human (since Friday is the one full day per week that I told myself I'd spend in the inertia-inducing Ph.D. office in my department), but I feel like I'm on a roll. I have just *got* to try to finish the thesis re-organization process – ‘Phase I’ of my new ‘Systematic’ approach to thesis revision and expansion – that I began yesterday. (I know that I sound like an idiot when I talk of ‘Systems’ and ‘Phases’ and whatnot – but at least it keeps me off the streets, okay?)

Thus, high on cold medicine and double-strength Earl Grey (at four tea bags per large mug, I brew it so strong that I can see the spirits of my dead ancestors after a few sips), I am going to press on with the work in my usual, Night Owl fashion.

Okay, then; what’s on tap for tonight/this morning?

During the aforementioned marathon session yesterday and today, I successfully worked ‘Phase I’ – chapter re-organization – on the ‘System’s maiden voyage. Surprisingly, working in this manner, I was able to get through not only Chapter 5, as planned, but also Chapter 4. I’m tempted, therefore, to make a two-chapter workload the official plan tonight, but I also need to remember what they teach us at the excellent PhinisheD website: namely, that the goals of any thesis work-session should be small and manageable – and a goal of tackling two chapters ain’t.

So, the task at hand tonight is to apply ‘Phase I’ of the ‘System’ to Chapter 3 alone. Chapter 3 has been the bane of my existence for six months – the material therein actually *scares* me – so I think that it will provide plenty to keep me occupied until mid-morning!

Will the 'System' work yet again, or will Chapter 3 laugh in its face? Will the industrial-strength tea that I’m drinking make my kidneys shut down? Will The Allman Brothers sue me for copyright infringement?

Stay tuned!

Not gonna let ‘em catch the Midnight Rider,

: ) “Carine”

[1] Yes, I know that I’m essentially letting Duane and Greg Allman act as middlemen for the Blues legacy that is my birthright, but I can’t help myself: a long-time favorite of mine, "Midnight Rider" is one of my 'theme songs' for the thesis; I play it whenever I have to do an especially big push against especially long odds and need some companionship and inspiration. (Case in point: at the Paris conference last September, the power-cord of my laptop went kerblooie, neither the hotel nor the conference venue had a printer compatible with my memory key, and my pityriasis versicolor -- as yet undiagnosed -- had just erupted in earnest, so that my back and sides were covered in swaths of flakey skin that seemed to itch right down to the bone. There was nothing for it but to borrow another delegate’s power-cord and sit up all night in my hotel room and reconstruct my paper – which was only half-finished anyway – from scratch. I was so exhausted that I could barely see straight and was stressed out of my mind besides – and then I remembered that I had “Midnight Rider,” my old friend, stored on my laptop. I played it in a continuous loop for *six hours* as I worked and fought to stay awake – and, somehow, I felt less panicked, more hopeful, less alone. …)

Post 3. Taylorism[1] Comes to Thesis-Writing

2005-11-24T02:10:00.000Z

Through the wee hours of this morning, I plan to try a new, systematized approach to revising and expanding the amorphous chapters I'm trying to whip into shape by December 3 [2].

Today's test case (read: sacrificial victim) is Chapter 5.

If the system works, I will describe it here in the blog later -- to say nothing of applying it to the other four chapters over the next several days!

And if the system doesn't work, I will laugh nervously and change the subject whenever someone brings it up!

Gettin' Systematic,

: ) "Carine"

[1] What, exactly, is Taylorism? Check it out here and here.

[2] This is my internal deadline. The official deadline (i.e. date due to my supervisors) is December 13.

Post 2. Escape to the Urban Countryside

2005-11-21T02:40:00.000Z

Although I felt guilty leaving my 'writing' behind (playing Windows' Spider Solitaire is a tough job, but someone's gotta do it), I went to a small dinner party at the lovely home that Colleague A shares with her partner (Brit-speak for common-law husband) on Saturday night. With Colleague B, the party’s other guest, I wound up staying the night at Colleague A's house. After waking up and showering on Sunday, I let my desk stay lonely and joined Colleague A, her partner, and Colleague B for a long, wonderful day spent walking along the river and through the parkland and gardens that stretch for ten miles from Colleague A's house. Everything was capped off with a simple (and tasty) afternoon tea and delicious dinner, both of which Colleague A's partner, a whiz in the kitchen, cooked.

I should let myself be dragged away from my computer more often!

Amazingly, Colleague A and her partner live just across down: the wooded wonderland near Colleague A's house is actually part of the city proper. (It never ceases to amaze me what wonders of nature one can find in this otherwise scuzzy, blighted, post-industrial town.)

I am truly grateful to have such wonderful colleagues here.

I feel guilty as hell for stopping for some fun, but goodness knows that staying chained to my desk wasn't helping my writing paralysis and lack of concentration. ... Here's hoping that the time off does the trick!

It's back to the salt-mines later today (Monday) -- but first, I need to grab a few hours of post-midnight sleep.

: ) "Carine"

P.S. I should add that Colleague A and her partner – knowing of the dormitory nightmare of which I wrote in Post 1 – offered some weeks ago to have me come live in a spare room in their home. (Colleague A's eldest child from her first marriage has just headed off to university, so they’ve got some space.) The rub? As I mentioned in Post 1, I can't get out of my campus housing contract! In addition, despite the dormitory horrors, I like being master of my own domain – and am aware that nothing can kill a friendship faster than living with folks ... especially when two of them (i.e. myself and Colleague A) are crazed thesis-writers! I wish that some workable arrangement were possible, but it seems more prudent to just stay put. …

Post 1. Rude Beginnings

2005-11-19T08:30:00.000Z

So, I'm a 35-year-old, African-American woman living in England while completing a Ph.D. in a singularly nutty research centre at a large, "redbrick," U.K. university.

I'm living in a grotty dormitory (in a thin-walled room next to the women's toilets, no less[1]); teaching online for a company back home to make ends meet; trying to land a permanent job or post-doc for the 2006-2007 academic year; and struggling like a nervous lion-tamer to keep my suddenly-hostile Ph.D. supervisor at bay (I'm on her doodie-list since I backed out of a plan to live in a spare room in her house during this, my final, Ph.D. year[2]).

I'm trying to get over my latest ill-advised 'romantic' affinity; refusing to yield to a series of stress-related ailments ('candida gut' syndrome [don't ask]; pityriasis versicolor [ditto]; immunosuppression; etc.); and fielding crazy phone calls and e-mails from my Stateside family (who are best described as a real-life Tennessee Williams play, only with Black people).

Oh -- and in my spare time, I'm trying to write up my Ph.D. thesis, which is due by October 2006, but which I am scheduled to file in April 2006.

I've started this blog to chronicle the fun.

Blogs related to Academia in general -- and to the experience of graduate students and junor researchers in particular -- are becoming ubiquitous on the web.

And since ubiquity, by definition, loves company. ...

This is my second attempt at a blog. I hope that I can stay the course this time, because I sure could use something to keep me from going gaga over the next few months. ...

Please visit often; I'll try to have something useful to say!

: ) "Carine"

[1] The awful knowledge to which this proximity to the ladies' john has made me privy (if you'll pardon the pun) is most decidedly of the TMI variety. For example, thanks to the weak wall and strong acoustics, I now know that one woman on my floor has violently upset stomachs quite often (aaaaah!) -- just as I know that another is bulimic and makes herself hurl after every meal. Horrifying. Slightly less gross, but even more annoying, is the constant symphony of peeing and flushing to which I'm subjected 24/7. Thank goodness for headphones, BBC Radio 4, and BBC 7 -- cranked up extra-loud. (I even sleep with headphones on; if I didn't, the flushing toilet would wake me up every half-hour! And, nope, moving's not an option: I had to sign a 9-month contract to move into the dorm. Fun.)

[2] The 400.00 GBP that I gave her to make up for the loss of her 'lodger' (me) did little to smooth the waters -- although she did start speaking to me again after the money changed hands.