You're drunk and acting tough.

I'm a quitter. By Natalie Dee.

I quit blogging. and more importantly - I quit grad school.

It was really more of a damage control thing than anything else... But I can get into that later.

the important thing - is that I am now a scientist for a Fortune 500 company making consumer products - which is where I always wanted to end up - and i have arrived.

My life is infinitely better than it was in graduate school. I am amazed at this - at the fact that your environment can influence you that much. I had always been of the mindset that who I am internally has more influence on me than my surroundings... but I guess I can see that both matter to some extent.

I also have a new belief in Luck. In graduate school I was unlucky and unsuccessful. I also think that the professors that I worked for are dumb. Now, I find myself in a new situation, still working out new technology, but I am already wildly successful. It has got to be luck that I have ended up here - and that the senior scientist that I am working with is smart. Smarter than most of the professors I knew in graduate school.

And although I have been away from blogging on the internet, I have still been on the internet.

This video by Alain De Botton (scroll to the end of the post) resonated with me.

Leaving my program with out a Ph.D. was hard for my identity. So much of who I was- was wrapped up in getting a PhD and staying in graduate school at all costs.

It was easy for me to physically leave - because I have this gift of seeing the truth of situations - and I knew I was being forced out.

And the most important thing I learned in graduate school is that a Ph.D. doesn't mean anything. Lazy idiots can have them, hard working idiots can have them, etc. It doesn't even distinguish if you can think or not.

My manager said to me about me "she acts like she has a PhD" meaning I can think, and come up with new technologies, and design experiments, etc. I just don't have the stamp.

(And for the record, yes I did leave with a Masters, but it is still quitting in my eyes.)

Hello again, blogging world.

Life vectors and Money

Novella came and stayed at my apartment recently. I had a very good time with her, and we got to hang out more than I was expecting which was nice. Along with other things we talked about people we knew from high school and what/how they are doing now. I started thinking about high school people -- about how we all had very similar day-to-day lives at one time, and now we have scattered and are doing very different things with our lives.

Then I think- maybe it only seemed like we had similar lives. Maybe the part of our lives that was the same was not the part that mattered. Maybe the things that influenced us were the parts that were not so visible to my high school eyes.

I guess this is the nature vs nurture thing. Or it could be the nature and nurture thing where nature (our genetics) is the X axis and nurture (our experiences) is the Y axis, and our resulting direction in life is the vector in space having both X and Y components. And that is how it would be in 2 dimensions. But with genetics I imagine that we would not only have multiple lengths of the X axis component, but also that we would have other dimensional possibilities.

So the part that is the same is the fact that we wall went to the same high school. But there are so many other variables. How much did we pay attention in class? How did our home life influence our interest in school or boys or girls or drugs? Maybe our home life was so drastically different that it switches us into another dimension entirely. If we consider all of this it makes perfect sense that members of a high school class would be scattered about the universe.

Human beings have too many variables to make a good science experiment. In the class I am auditing I think about how there is so much we don't know about biology and life. We don't know every step in evolution, although we have pieces. We cannot create a living E.Coli bacterium yet (from non-living synthetic materials.) I feel like we are close. We should be able to create an E.Coli. But even bacterial life is SO complicated. If humans continue to exist for long enough (assuming we don't bomb ourselves into extinction) I bet we will get far enough in science to create life from non-living materials.

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On a side note- tomorrow is Monday. I am meeting with my boss AND ordering supplies for my project. The total cost of supplies I need is $7.40. I have a feeling that my boss will tell me to purchase the supplies with my own money. And I will tell him no.

I have the feeling because in the past he has told us to purchase things with our own money - and I have already spent $170 on my research project of my own money. I am not doing this anymore. It pisses me off because it is HIS JOB to get us funding - AND he makes ten times as much money as I make. And he expects me to use my salary to do HIS job, and still do my job? The problem is that my boss feels that he doesn't have enough money. He is selfish and stingy.

I am ready to tell him tomorrow that I am not spending another cent on my research project, and that if he doesn't have the money to support my project then I can find another group.

This is hard for me because I am standing up to my boss, and because it is dealing with money. I have issues with money because my dad never wanted to spend money and so I thought that if I spent less money than he would love me more.

The great thing is that Jips, my husband, loves to spend money. And since I want him to have the things he wants because I love him and we can actually afford the things he wants... it makes me think that I can have the things I want then, too.

But beyond my husband - I have trouble with money. I hate talking about it. I hate asking my boss to spend money on my research because he is always acting pissy about spending the money. So this will be a big step for me.

What's cooler than a back pack?

A hip pack.

I don't know if I've blogged before about how much I love Amazon: Amazon and on-line shopping in general.

The book I ordered: When Pigs Fly: Training Success with Impossible Dogs, arrived last night. Not only is it hilarious, but it makes me think that maybe my dogs aren't so bad after all. The Pigs-Fly training method is based on 100% positive reinforcement which I agree with. My uncle started his own dog training and dog walking company and he uses negative reinforcement. Dominant downs etc. His method took the life out of his dogs. They seem depressed and I didn't want my dogs to be like that.

Luckily Pigs-Fly has the answer. It is a slow answer but I think it will work. And the best part is that training my Pigs-Fly dogs won't take the life out of them.


So here we are: Day one: Loading the Clicker.
The clicker concept is that dogs can process a click noise in their brain faster than a human word. In this fashion the click becomes an instinctive signal. This is important for training because studies have shown that you have 1/2 a second between the behavior and the reward for the dog to associate the two. Clicking is easy and fast.

But in order for the clicker to work you have to "load it." This is what the boys and I started on today.

Materials: clicker, dog, bag of treats.
Today our treats were hot dogs and cheese. Each treat consisted of 1/40th of a hot dog or a 1cm by 1cm square of sliced cheese.

Instructions: click and shove a treat into the dog's mouth within a half second. Pause, and repeat 20 times.

I took Herman out first. He was afraid of the clicker so I hid it behind my back and showed him the treat. Then I clicked and shoved it in his mouth. After I ran out of a handful of treats he ran away so I had to walk up to him with a new handful and start again. Then we went back inside. Herman seemed relieved that the training was over. In general he doesn't enjoy new activities that he cannot predict. Hopefully it will get better.

Next it was Diego's turn. Diego went crazy-eyed-bible-thumping-fanatical about the treats. I am not sure if he got the link between the click and the treat, but boy does he LOVE training!

In the Pigs-Fly book, she says to start training somewhere boring like in the kitchen. I had to improvise and do it outside because we have a small apartment and I think it would be way too chaotic if I was trying to train two dogs at the same time. So we went outside but stayed in my apartment complex.

So that's it for today. Click and treat. I am supposed to do this twice a day for three days to fully load the clicker.

I started this post professing my love for Amazon. It is true. Who has time to physically shop? I don't, especially in my city's traffic. And so my next Amazon purchase is this excellent multi-pocket fanny pack to hold training treats, keys, and poop bags for my future Pigs-Fly training sessions. I am going to look rad with my hip pack. Can you tell that I am getting old?

TFA is short for: Shot in the FACE

I can feel it: the obsession creeping in. I am checking MY OWN BLOG multiple times a day to look for comments and new posts.

Skuh asked me why I said TFA is the devil. The reality is that I just like to make outlandish claims without any substance to them. I don't know that much about Teach For America, but these facts make me distrust them:

1) they are an organization with lots of propaganda
2) you can write the TFA experience on your resume
3) their target age group = college kids

Organizations and Cults love to target college kids because often times college kids don't want to grow up and they don't know what they will do with their lives. College kids are legal-for-labor and they don't always place a high value on their time. The exploitation opportunities are endless.

Skuh, I know you aren't doing TFA so you can write it on your resume. But that will be the focus of the people you will be working with. You were an English major so you might not know how annoying pre-meds are. People who are too focused on resumes are a bitch to be around because they lack something that most other people have: a soul.

I am naturally distrustful of organizations especially if there is propaganda involved. From what I have heard, TFA does not tolerate any negative talk about TFA. Personally, I like the truth and I like free speech. TFA likes to smite the truth.

And finally, if you join TFA you may be shot in the face by one of your students.

Check the links:
Feministe: Why I Hate Teach For America
(read the comments on Feministe, too)
Philadelphia Rain
Loving to Hate Teach for America
How I Joined Teach for America-- and got Sued for $20 million

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Did yall watch the new HOUSE Tuesday?
If so you will love LOL House, courtesy of J-Money.
It is really funny! Scroll down to see the pics.

Goal 1: Control the Universe

The 1992 graduate asked me who I worked for, and when I told her she scrunched up her face in disgust. I smiled and said "yes."

"Maybe he's changed." She said.

"He hasn't. The person who told me I should work for him got fired the year I joined."

"That was the same thing that happened to my friend who worked for him." she said.

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Now in my third year, my boss is not the problem. He isn't going to fire me, because right now, I am more valuable to him than he is to me. On top of that, I have learned how to deal with him. I don't stress out about group meetings or seeing him.

The problem is now internal and personal. Personal because my house is a mess, and I have to study organic on my down time rather than clean my house. Internal because I feel like I haven't done anything worthwhile in the past 2.25 years.

I know it isn't true. I have a paper published in a journal where "only experts in the field" publish. I won a teaching award. I have led the revival of my Women In Science group for the past year growing our membership from 5 to 45. I passed my oral exam and all of my PhD qualifiers.

But I have not made a scientific contribution to my field. In reality this is mostly because of (1) choosing to work for an older advisor who has had several bad ideas that I had to entertain. and (2) bad luck, old instruments, lack of funding. I am certain that I am not alone in my current status of lack of contribution. A professor I respect got his whole thesis out of the last 6 months of the 6 years it took him to get a PhD. In fact, most people I know (haven't/hadn't) done anything worthwhile (at this point in their PhD education.) I guess I feel frustrated because Katu, a friend that I respect, HAS done worthwhile work.

To further Analyse the situation:

• Katu works longer hours than me, and she probably works harder than me 85% of the time
• Katu works for a young professor who has good ideas
• Katu does not have a paper in the esteemed journal that I have one in
• Katu hasn't led the Women In Science group
• Katu hasn't won a teaching award
• Katu has passed her PhD qualifiers
• Katu doesn't exercise regularly or have dogs

I guess I am only bothered because she is further along in getting the degree, but she is not further along in being the total person that I want to be.

I ask myself: Would I trade my accomplishments for Katu's? The answer is no. I just want it all. And that brings us to the truth: that you really can't have it all. Life is a trade off, and with each thing we choose we discard a different choice.

So I guess the answer is: focus on the positive. I am the person that I want to be except for the fact that I'm not omnipotent.

Apron Strings and Grown-Up-Clothes

Obviously, I have not been blogging lately. I blame it on this graduate women therapy group that I am quitting today. More on that later.

Work is pretty awesome. Seriously. :) And, I managed to work out not once last week, but 4 times! By Monday (yesterday) I was feeling so energized that I did 40 min on the elliptical rather than my minimal 30 min. I feel like I might be getting my life back, and that is a good feeling.

Yesterday on my commute home: bus then train, I had my binder of organic to study but I got distracted by a gentleman on his cell phone. The guy had his back to me on the bus, but he was tall, blond, and lanky... and he was wearing kackies, a dark polo, and "grown up" shoes. You know, not tennis shoes, boat shoes, or even flops,* but instead black leather dress shoes. This is not how the normal nerdy American student dresses at my university. As the shoes suggested, there was something uniquely "grown up" about his appearance. But his conversation is what distracted me. He was talking to his mom. This I am sure of. He seemed very sheltered, but maybe we all seem sheltered when we talk to our parents. Maybe not.

He was talking about starting graduate school. (This is what caused my ears to perk up.) He is taking 3 neuroscience classes, and he just found a research group. Three grad students and one post doc. A small group. He seemed really relieved to have found a group... And it is impressive that he already has a group and it is mid-september. Now he has to play catch up on his classes.

He has an undergrad math degree. He hasn't taken his advanced math classes in 6 years though... He worked between now and his Bachelors. That is probably why he is wearing Grown-Up Clothes.

His little sister is engaged to a friend of his. A guy he has known since Kindergarten. His mom says that the guy is self-centered. Grown-Up-Clothes says he has always been that way, and that he doesn't think anything of it because he never expects anything else from him. His sister's name is Logan. Fuck. If my parents named me Logan and I was a chick I would be pissed.

The other interesting thing about this guy, other than the start of grad school talk, and the total innocence with witch he talks about it, is that he is not from the south. He talks with long O's. He says "You KnOW" repeatedly. And in, "People say I am good at memorizing," mem-er-ising turns into Mem-OOOORR-rising. Grown-Up-Clothes is a beagle in human form.

As we were waiting for the train, I saw his face: baby face. Indicative of someone without "life" experiences. It is true that you can't hide anything from people who know about things. Like drug addicts can tell other addicts by the look of their face, and the lack of "life" shows up just as well.

I felt some sympathy for this kid, Grown-Up-Clothes. He is a long way from home. He doesn't have many friends yet. He is optimistic about graduate school. And in the next 2 years he will figure out how shitty it can be. I wanted to tell him it will get shitty, and to hold on. But I said nothing to him. Mainly because he never got off of the phone with his mom.

*flops = flip flops

Professional Follower

In the comments of the last post Novella asked if my sister could get professional help.

I need to explain more of the story.
In this post, Sister = S.

The root of the problem is not that my sister is too skinny, but rather that she is a Follower. We are all followers to some extent, but she is a Follower in the most extreme of ways. She Follows to the point of becoming brainwashed. She is 27, and so far I can count 3 wash cycles each of which last years.

The first wash started in High School. S was popular. The popular group was her group. You have to be somewhat brainwashed to be popular in high school. I guess I haven't read much about this topic because it is one of the more socially acceptable ways to not think. Someone once said that religion isn't the opium of the people, fashion is. In high school she told me that I shouldn't let my date drive me home if he was drunk. That was good of her to tell me, and one of the signs that her mind wasn't totally mush.

When popular high school girls go to college they do one thing: Join Sororities. And that is what S did. Until she quit a year later to join what I call "the sorority church."

The second wash setting is: Fundamentalist Non-denominational Christian. The Sorority Church was on the edge of our college campus, and provided for all of a Follower's needs. You aren't Saved unless you specifically ask Jesus into your heart. The only requirement for a good husband was that he has asked Jesus into his heart. You don't have to worry about discussing things like financial plans, children, or relationship needs before you get married because hell, whenever things that like arise you can pray about it, and Jesus will tell you what to do. You know that eating disorder you had in High School? Just "give it to god" and it will go away.

S married a Christian guy from the Sorority Church. They moved many miles away after college to a place where her Husband has a job and where she can go to graduate school to get her masters in counseling.

The third wash cycle is: Psyco Camp complete with Psyco Drugs. Away from the Sorority Church and the Harem of Followers she was "friends" with, S gets lonely. Lonely in the way that her husband is gone on trips for work 80% of the year, Lonely in the way that the Female Harem is gone, and Lonely in the way that everyone is when they move far away to a new city. But in Psyco Camp where she is being trained, she names her Loneliness: Manic Depression. She sees a doctor who gives her so much medicine (Psyco Drugs) that when she is taking it as prescribed she passes out and hits her head on the bath tub. She goes to the emergency room all the time now that she is in the new city far away. S is always having accidents. She starts smoking cigarettes. With five years now between the present and the Sorority Church she tells me that she maybe was brainwashed (at that time.) Praying looses its magic. She is taking tons of Psyco Drugs. My dad says to me: "I warned my kids about the illegal drugs, but didn't think to warn them about the legal ones." I have the feeling that her starvation is a result of her drowning her unhappiness in Psyco Drugs rather than an eating disorder. My dad says that her brain would work better if she wasn't so skinny.

I am not sure what the answer is.

Is there such a thing as professional help for a Serial Follower?

*Please note that I believe in Psyco Drugs when used properly. However sometimes they are used without really helping the patient. I judge this to be one of those times.*

Starving American Children

Skuh:
Nice lists. I noticed when you gave me a shout out on your personal blog... but didn't comment there for fear of losing my secret identity.

As for where to live--you touch on this in your next post--it is important to live where going outside is pleasurable. I vote for TN, but what do I know? I love America, so I couldn't possibly suggest that you go to Germany.

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I saw my sister for the first time since my wedding. She has become a starving African child. Her bones stick out through her clothing and her face has changed into a skull with moist eyes and giant teeth. I talked to my dad about her. She is incredibly lonely. And when people try to help her, she reaches out and strangles them.

I am not sure what the answer is. She isn't like me. She has always been lost and prone to make poor decisions. It is hard for my parents to see her in such an obvious state of distress.

Grad School or Grocery Bagger?

I didn't blog much last week because I was too busy waking up at an ungodly hour - walking to the train - taking the train downtown - and walking to school. Reverse and repeat for the way home. I thought that getting to work early would be good because I wouldn't get as sweaty on my way in. But I was wrong. Getting to work early is NOT good, (sans good.) I was overly tired all day which made me want to nap in the evening rather than walk the dogs, workout, spend time with the husband, or do any housework. Jips even said to me that early work might not be good because "the house and I need you." And it is so. Early work is not good. Eventually I bet I could get used to the hours, but then there is the problem of my obsessions. I cannot bring myself to leave work early even if I get there early. I just want to finish what I am working on, and it doesn't seem so bad to leave at the normal time, right?



Speaking of work, Mrs. Smoltz and I had dinner yesterday. She showed me that we make the same amount of money as someone who dropped out of high school and is bagging groceries at wall mart.* Damn. But then I say that we are getting paid to get an education and we will be making tons more than the wall mart bagger once we get out. And some people in grad school don't get paid. In our program, in science, they have to pay us something. Otherwise the graduation rate would be 5% rather than the 50% it is now. We have to put up with alot of shit. Maybe it is like that in every program, and maybe not.



Jips is our program's grad student president. That means he has meetings with the "popular" kids on the grad student council and he attends faculty meetings. The popular kids in grad school act like high schoolers. All they do is complain about how they don't get enough money for alcohol for their parties. Faculty meetings are full of professors complaining about email server changes and acting as obnoxious as possible. The Academic World is not the real world. Or maybe it is. What do I know?



Am I ranting? I need to do some cardio. I haven't worked out since Tuesday and I can tell. My muscles scream to me that they want to be worked.



Last week I decided I would try to eat healthier. I made some split pea soup and bought some raw spinach. I made "spinach salad" which means Spinach (80%), Greek Vinaigrette (10%), and Feta Cheese Chunks (10%). I was afraid of the split pea soup, but it isn't painful to eat, just a bit hum-drum. Finally, Frozen blueberries, Vanilla Light N Fit Dannon Yogurt, and Kashi Go Lean Crunch cereal on top. I thought it was good the first time I ate it. Now I am of the opinion that health food tastes like crap.


What did Jips get me for my birthday? Diamond Earrings. Yes. I know, he did well. They are special posts with screw on backs so that they won't fall out. Growing up I was not one of those girly-girls that was all about expensive jewelry. But the best husband in the world likes to give me pretty things. :) I bet I can adapt.

I leave you with the best political YouTube video yet.

* It is interesting that we make the same amount because Jips's maw-maw said that he could bag groceries when he decided to quit his first graduate program.

Wednesday's Workout

*This post is in response to Tino's post below*

How It Started

I started running in 5th grade. I'm not sure why. Maybe because my parents were always running or walking or roller-blade-ing. I decided to run one mile every day for 100 days. We had a treadmill at our house at the time so that made it easy to do even if it was raining outside. And I did it. At the end of the 100 days I ran a 10K.

In 5th-8th grade, one mile turned into two miles a day, and I think in 8th grade I started running 3 on occasion. My older sister informed me that if I was going to run cross-country in High School, 3 miles would be the norm for a "practice." I upped it to 3.

Let's not even talk about High School. My calves are still fucked up from all of the running I did then. My family joined That Awesome Health Club when I was in HS. That was good for me because I started doing some weights. I attended Body Pump classes which are classes based on choreographed music that you lift weights to in a group with an instructor. The music changes but they all have this format:

Track 1: Warm Up
Track 2: Squats
Track 3: Chest
Track 4: Back
Track 5: Biceps
Track 6: Triceps
Track 7: Lunges
Track 8: Shoulders
Then 15 minutes of ab work.

Do I have the order wrong? It has been so long I don't remember now.
Here are Two Body Pump Links: Tracklist site 1, Tracklist site 2

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And Why It Continues
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That is basically my entry into exercise. Running was a great release for me. I have always been excellent at channeling my anger. It flowed from my body into my thighs and stayed there until I ran it out. I needed to run. I was addicted to it.

Body Pump was magical. It was a great activity for me because the classes were almost like being sociable, but I didn't have to talk to anyone. I just have my spot and do the routine. The next day my body is sore in new places, and I love it. I feel my muscles and become aware that I have them. Stretching feels sooooo good! Throughout the day I move, stretch, and dance. I cannot wait for the next class.

And that is why I continue to exercise. I do cardio for emotional release. Without cardio I become depressed. I cry, sleep, and stare off into space. My body stops moving.

I do weights for the powerful feeling I get during the workout and for the great feeling of being sore the next day. Weights allow me to celebrate my body. The next day I move slightly and I feel my muscles moving. I stretch and feel like the most stunning of creatures (even though I look just like a normal person stretching.)

www.oiltruth.com

Don't Let the Peak Oil Crisis Get You Down

The burney smell comes off onto my fingers as I wipe the grill down. I lit it, and now I have to wait 10 minutes for the grill to heat up. Last weekend my parents came, and my dad showed me how to cook on my apartment complex’s grill. I always considered grilling to be a masculine activity, but it is also a fire activity, and I love fire.

It is peaceful out here. I type that and smile because I have eight air conditioners running in front of me and endless cars driving on the street behind me. Still, it is peaceful. When I am not looking at them, the cars almost sound like ocean waves.

I got to talk to my dad last weekend about oil prices. Lately, one of the reasons I have been feeling depressed is that it seemed like the world was going down-hill. Maybe this is totally my perception, but in 1999 I was sixteen and I got my first job as a hostess at a pasta restaurant. It was a great time to be working because we had a lot of business. I remember quoting people 2 hour wait times and they would stay. That is because there were 2 hour wait times everywhere. Everyone was eating out and spending money. The economy was good. I could fill up at the pumps for a whopping ten dollars.

The first scary thing was 9/11, not because I was afraid of terrorists, but because I was afraid that there would be a draft. I didn’t want all of the boys I loved in high school shipped off and killed. And I loved all of the boys in high school. Not sexually loved them: just loved them in the young happy I-love-humanity sort of way.

We find out: No Draft. There is a sigh of relief in my subconscious. Still, how classist of me to not bat an eye at all of the blue collar boys being shipped off to war.

Then the American dollar becomes worth less. There are no longer 2 hour wait times at every restaurant in the city. The economy is shitty. The price of gas is up. This depresses me. My dad was a geologist for a major oil company in the eighties. My uncle retired from his job of predicting gas prices. But these men have the obsessiveness that I have. They still spend all of their time on the oil gossip: finding it, pricing it, producing it. So I asked my dad about oil now: Do we have the reserves in the ground? Will the price continue to go up forever until we run out? What about those people who think we are going to run out of oil and are starting to live on self-sufficient farms?

We have lots of oil left in the ground. The price will go up to about $300 a barrel and it will stay there for a bit, and then it will come down. The faster it gets up to $300 a barrel the faster it will come down. The high-school economic principles of supply and demand have more to do with the gas prices than the amount of oil we have in the ground.

He told me this all happened in the eighties. We were rich in the eighties because he worked for a big oil company and the price of oil was up. And they predicted that it would continue to go up and we would run out and everyone would have to live on homesteads. And look what happened: THE NINETIES are what happened. The price of oil dropped, I turned sixteen, and there were 2 hour wait times at restaurants.

But there are crazy people stockpiling food and learning how to farm now, did that happen then? He asked me if I remembered his friend Jackson P., I remembered him. He told me how Jackson P. had bought a farm in upstate New York and built a house with a wood burning stove, and sent my dad a letter saying: You are welcome to join our homestead, but we will have to meet your wife and determine if she is the type of person suitable for our cause. My mom didn’t like Jackson P. after that. This all happened in the eighties, and it is happening again.

There is something attractive to people about doomsday, about trying to survive. Why else would there be so many fundamentalists believing in the rapture and homesteaders learning how to farm? I understand the attractiveness of THE END. I used to fantasize that the world would end during the night before I had a large assignment due. It never happened. The truth is that it could happen, but the probability is sooo very low that I feel 100% safe.

Things are looking up.

Helmet Head

This morning the boss sent out an email announcing that we would be having group meeting next week. Upon reading it, I was filled with dread. We haven't had group meeting since December 2007, and there is a consensus among the pee-ons in my group that everyone is better for it. In the fall of 07 I would get headaches every week, precisely on the night before group meeting. A great deal has changed since then; in the workplace I am a PhD Candidate, my research has taken off, and the paper has been published. Additionally I started working out and eating healthy again in January 08 and I attended weeks of therapy this spring to help me figure out how to deal with my boss. Right now, I have gotten over the lack of motivation following my oral exam, and I am pretty much at the top of my game. Even my relationship with Jips is better than it used to be. I think we are both independently happier than we were a year ago. I only have my experience with Jips in the "living with a significant other" arena, but I found that it takes some time to figure out how to live with someone. After two years, I am a pro at this as well.

Sooo, Group Meeting. CRAP.

I have been told that I am more peaceful now, and that I am strong, and that I will be able to handle life again. But I am uncertain. Maybe it will go okay. I don't know.

Imagine this situation:
Once a week you go sit in a conference room with your group and your boss hits everyone in the head with a frying pan (except the lazy golden child (not me)) at least once when they turn their head just the slightest bit. You do this every week for 1.5 years. Soon, even the mentioning of group meeting fills you with dread. This is where I am right now.

Maybe I have a helmet on now that I don't know about. We shall see.

Moral not Oral

My time at work flew by today. Probably because (I see a list coming!)

• I was back in the lab actually doing experiments that relate to my thesis.
  
• My boss did not show up to work today. (Always a nice surprise, seriously.)
• It was the undergraduate Zazu's first day.
• I spent 1.5 hours helping one of my friends/colleagues with her oral exam practice.
  

Experiments
are totally fun. I have decided to focus on trying to do the best work rather than the most work. I am trying to give myself credit for doing well-thought-out experiments carefully rather than trying to figure out how I can be The-Most-Productive-Scientist-In-The-World. It is good. Hopefully my results will be good, too.

Boss.
The fact that he did not show up for work today was awesome. It just makes me enjoy my day so much more when I am not subconsciously concerned about him popping into the lab and making his "unsatisfied" face.
Zazu.
Do you recognize the name? I named him after the bird in The Lion King who was always worrying and who would never shut up. Still I found Zazu in the movie, (and now in my real life) very lovable. So Zazu showed up late because he forgot where the lab was. He is just at the end of his first year of college. I taught him this past fall, and so I was already attached to him. He is just so innocent and nice and bright and I would hate to see my boss break his spirit. I guess everyone has to grow up sometime.

Oral Exam
Every time I read the words "oral exam" I think about the dentist. I haven't been to the dentist in awhile. Last time I went they made my teeth hurt and told me I needed a root canal. I was too busy with graduate school at the time to schedule a root canal so I just haven't done any dentist stuff in 1.5 years now and my teeth feel great! But my conscience nags me about it every time I brush my teeth. By the end of the summer, I promise I will go back.

I taught with the chick who had her oral practice. And I taught with her boyfriend. They are both really great and really smart. They are both Asian. Guess who is racist against Asians? Yep, its the boss!!! And he is on her committee. This is going to be bad. Racism combined with the fact that he likes to be an asshole combined with the fact that she is presenting on stuff related to my project, Citizen's project, and my boss's specialty area. Basically, she is fucked. I told her if she fails, just remember you can do it again and you can kick my boss off of your committee and get a different prof.

Oral Asian Chick also asked two of my other friends to come help her practice. And I learned some gossip. Sexy Pablo (a promiscuous Latino grad student in my entering class) is leaving with a masters. He isn't doing his Oral Exam. And this is a secret. I promised I wouldn't tell. So keep it hush hush! Little Bo Peep (another one of my friends/colleagues) wants to quit also but I made her promise to have lunch with me first. Bo Peep even already passed her Oral Exam! She is a PhD Candidate, the bitch part is DONE, and she wants out. I will know more after Friday when we have lunch... and of course I will try to talk her into staying. She is a smart one with her act together. Coming into grad school, everyone assumed she would make it.

So work is fun again. YAY!
AND, if my boss is too lazy to schedule group meeting, work could be AWESOME all summer.
Yay Grad School Yay!

Career Girls! How Exciting!

The top and bottom images of this post are from the same game (see below) What Shall I Be? The Exciting Game of Career Girls.

I initially notice the following:
1) All of the Career Girls are wearing skirts.
2) All of the Career Girls are white.
3) The wording "Career Girls" suggests that working is not the default position of women.
4) The wording "Career Girls" to me suggests child labor. But really what is being depicted are women's career choices, perhaps "Girls" is used to suggest that women are dependent like children.
5) Board Game Designer is not one of the Career Choices for Girls. (Read: Boys in power are promoting the stereotype.)
6) Career Girls can Entertain: Model, Actress, Ballet Dancer.
7) Career Girls can Serve: Airline Waitress, Nurse, Teacher.
8) My generation did not grow up with this game. I thank the feminists.

Goal 1: Relaxation

Sybil Vane is a new contributor at Bitch PhD. Bitch was smart to add her. Sybil is very good and young which I like. Her most recent post is about collectives and feminism and the lack of identification with the feminist movement. I spent the majority of my morning so far reading the comments to the post and visiting the commenter's blogs. I happened upon some blogs by women science professors. Those blogs linked to other blogs by women in science. I really tried to explore the blogs but found them VERY uninteresting. I know I am making the right choice to NOT go into academia.

Now I am inclined to re-evaluate my life strategy at 3 different stages of my life:
(1) Before Oral Exam: Run away from everything unpleasant.
(2) Oral Exam/G-skoo in general: Jump though the hoops and face the problems: act like a tiger.
(3) After passing all qualifiers: Run away! Run away!

Once I accomplish Goal 1: Relaxation, my next major goal will be to meet with my boss and discuss my path to graduation. This will be a 2 to 3 year path but I want to have it mapped out specifically so that I can see my progress. Meeting with my boss is something that will stress me out so I will probably meet with Red-Haired-Ashely for some advice on how to do this. She is at the end of her 4th year and has recently established a wonderful working relationship with her boss via very productive meetings about progress. *vomit* My excellent grip on reality makes it very clear that my boss (in his present and probably eternal state of being) is unable to have wonderful relationships of any sort. This being said, I hope that meeting with my boss will ensure prompt graduation, although my hopes do not extend to the development of any sort of relationship.

Onto Goal 1: Relaxation. This is hard for me, but clearly a necessity. To accomplish Relaxation, heh, I plan to blog, (check), lay out by the pool, (to which Jips said: That doesn't sound like Fermi!), and hang out with dogs.

I hung out with dogs a bit this morning. They are in the usual spring shedding process. I was scratching the rump of Dog 2, and hairs flew out into the air. It was so visible in the sunlight I was reminded of the Peanuts character who always had a cloud of dust around him. Was it Linus? I sat on the floor to pet the dogs because Dog 1 is having inflamed back disks again. The vet said we might have to have surgery if it happens again in 3 months, because Dog 1 is so young (5 yrs) and this has already happened twice. So Dog 1 is on steroids which cause him to pee and poop in the house even more than usual. And Dog 2 has been vomiting and farting TONS and TONS so our living/dining/kitchen room now is 90% urine smelling and 10% Dog 2 specialty-fart smelling. I sat on the floor because Dog 1 is not supposed to jump on the furniture with his back being bad, but he still does as often as he likes.

All of this: the dog hair, urine, and farting, compels me to clean the house. But that is in direct opposition to Goal 1: Relaxation. Fuck.

The same guy on the plane (mentioned in the last post) said to me: "You're Type A, aren't you?" I said, "I can see how I could be perceived in that way." While in my mind I thought: Who the hell are you to say I am Type A, you don't even know me, or anything about me! So I told my therapist about the previous conversation and she laughed and said I was Type A Plus. Extreme Type A. Both the therapist's confirmation and the plane guy got me thinking about how my graduate program is essentially a cult of Type A personality. There is a great deal of value-judgment based on how much and how hard you work. There are non-type A's, but these people (example: Chip) focus almost all of their energy on trying to appear to be working all of the time. The sad thing is that I felt the best about myself when I was prepping for my oral exam and at work all of the time. I really felt superior then. Which is fucked up because people who work all the time are not superior, they are just work-a-holics. And why do I care about being superior anyway? I just need to focus on being me.

It is scary how easily I can revert back to my factory settings. I was raised with the question: What did you DO today? which implied that the more accomplished = a better day. I went to alot of therapy in High School to change my focus to balance and peace. And now, I find myself in the position where I am surrounded by a small group of people whose default settings are like my own. And it was SO EASY to slip back into them. It is scary how easy it was.

This week I found myself in tears, because I lost who I was, and I lost who Jips and I were together. I was only my work. I am ready to be a stay-at-home mom TODAY. maybe that thought is inspiring my Goal 2: Meet with my Boss to insure a prompt graduation.

So the path back to Fermi starts through Goal 1: Relaxation. Even if I have to drag myself kicking and screaming to get there.

the hardest thing

My Oral Exam was Wednesday.

When I was an undergrad I thought the Oral Exam for my PhD would be the hardest thing I would ever do. At that time I couldn’t even imagine having the confidence to walk into a conference room and get grilled for 2 or 3 hours. And it is true that the academic community thinks that the Oral PhD exam is the hardest exam period.

But this January I felt ready. I am not sure why I felt ready, I certainly never expected to, but it was probably a combination of my first year and a half of grad school. Teaching gave me confidence I think, especially teaching the same material multiple times. Also I grew up a great deal, while the assault of monthly literature exams was grueling and tedious, it accomplished its goal. The success of my second year seminar added to my confidence. Most of my classes were pointless, but in Andy the Lion’s class I learned how to write a good proposal, and how to critique it.

In January my first task was to get a committee. I was pretty scared to ask anyone to be on my committee because I was afraid they would say no. I didn’t feel like I was worth their time, and I expected them to feel the same way. But I forced myself to do it. And surprisingly everyone said yes. Not only did they say yes, but that they would love to help me out as much as they could. The older grad student I had talked to didn’t get those same responses. I was very surprised.

As far as I know, I was the second person in my entering class to have their oral exam. We can schedule it anytime after we pass the previous qualifier (end of fall of 2^nd year) until the start of the fall semester of our 3^rd year. I got my date 1 month in advance. I got my original idea, the day after I got my date.

Jips said to me: “You have alot of guts to go so early.”

I said: “I don’t have guts, I just lack inhibition.”

Ken and Shawshank were certain I would pass. I didn’t understand why. Shawshank said: “The purpose of the Oral Exam is to get rid of people that don’t belong here. That isn’t you.”

I didn’t really understand that until after my exam. Mostly I enjoy being the center of attention. I like writing on the board and answering questions. My oral wasn’t much different than teaching a general chemistry / organic / analytical class. My boss commented that I had a very supportive committee. They loved me, which is good. I am used to people loving me. This is one thing we talked about in therapy, how I am used to everyone adoring me. My boss doesn’t act like he adores me. My therapist says this is because he is insecure and I threaten him. I can see how that could be true... he is not very intelligent, not very moral, not attractive, and unloved. And I am the golden child.

After my exam, I felt like my committee had already decided that I would pass before they walked into the room that morning. I also felt like I wanted to do it again in a month so I could do even better. Of course that won’t happen. And I actually couldn’t do better score-wise: I got an unconditional pass, the highest you can get. But I wanted to be more impressive to my committee and to the world. I want to know everything. It’s just that there isn’t enough time. Anyway, now it is over.

To wrap this up: The oral exam was far from the hardest thing I will ever do. Dealing with unintelligent insecure people in power is far more difficult. Unfortunately, it also is something that lasts longer than two hours in a conference room.

2 days late with my written part.

Tonight I was at work until 11:30 pm. Around 11, one of my old undergrads who used to work in our lab "Mary" saw me at my desk and came by to say hello. Part of our conversation:

Me: What are you doing when you graduate?
Mary: I've decided to go to Med School.
Me: Oh! That is Fabulous!
Mary: Good, I am glad you think so, I've been getting mixed responses.
Me: That's just because those people don't know how much grad school sucks. I mean Med School has GOT to be better than grad school.
Mary: That's what I was thinking! Except you have to deal with cadavers. But I think I can get over that.

One way you can tell you are growing (mentally/emotionally/whatever) is that you start to have different opinions than you had before based on some current experience. My current experience is that I am working too much, and my boss is an asshole.

Let's Recap this week:
Good Friday: Work 4 hours, Panic about Oral Exam: 8 hours
Holy Saturday: Work 4 hours, Panic about Oral exam: 8 hours
Easter Sunday: Work 8 hours.
Monday: Work 9 hours.
Tuesday: Work 9 hours.
Wednesday: Work 11 hours. + 1 hour of counciling to help me deal with my boss-hatred
Thursday: (Today) Work 13.5 hours.

Today I finished the written part of my oral exam.
Suggested Length: 10-15 pages. + works cited
My Length: 15 pages + 2 sentences.
Works Cited: 73
It is kick ass and crappy at the same time.
More kick ass than crappy though.

Now I just have to study and fix my powerpoint slides.

It has got to be easier the second time if I fail this time.
I tell people that and they tell me that I won't fail.
heh. like most things now: I will believe it when I see it.
I have been hardend by the world.
I have zero faith.

If I fail I will be slightly embarressed. But I will know that it is just an initiation game.
Currently I have zero experience at initiations.
I was never in a sorority.
I didn't even joing Girls Service Club.
Partly because I am too independant
and partly because of the initiation.

I don't care anymore though.
Academia is just a game.
Its time for me to get some sleep.

Biggie Sized Playhouse

3BR/2Ba single family home. Quiet neighborhood. Located in cul-de-sac. Huge fenced yard. Huge master closet. Completely remodelled. Open floor plan. $xxx,xxx. Please contact _______ for more information.

And so the four month long house hunt finally ended... with the perfect house! On February 29th, my boyfriend and I moved into "our first house." We will have 2 roommates for the next couple of years until we get married, but this is it. Our house.

I feel like I'm playing grown-up in a biggie sized playhouse. We wake up together every morning, shower, and drink coffee. I cook dinner at night and do laundry weekly. I shopped for couches, and end tables, and curtains. I bought hammocks for the backyard. I spent my hard earned loan money on a vacuum cleaner. You know you are growing up when you start buying vacuum cleaners.

We have routines and responsibilities, and when I think about it, I start to feel like a real grown-up-- the kind of grown-up I couldn't wait to be when Barbie was fixing dinner for Ken. I'm not quite the adult I dreamed of when the Cabbage Patch kids needed bottles and diaper changes, but that future is not so far away either. Being unmarried and being in school keep me from feeling too much like an adult, but I'm certainly in that transitional phase. I'm finally becoming who I want to be-- as a wife, a mother, a friend, a daughter, a sister, and a physician.

Every day, I come home to this playhouse, and every day I feel more excited about growing up. I love the life that we have together and the prospect of our future. I love playing housewife in this perfect house. OUR perfect house.

However, I also love having fun roommates that are a blast to be around. I love being young and having everything in the world to look forward to. I love being at a point in my life that I'm finally close enough to actually see my career ahead. I love being a mom to my puppies. I love being in a relationship that I don't make excuses for. I love finally feeling some sense of maturity while still having so much youth.

I love this transitional point in my life. I love growing up.

And I LOVE LOVE LOVE my biggie sized playhouse.

this I know ... for the Bible tells me so

Can you see this dead baby bird? He is really small. (You can tell because of the size of the blades of grass.) I found him on a dog walk because Dog 2 pooped right next to him! I think dead birds are really neat because you can finally see them up close. I just thought I would share.

Jips and I saw Horton Hears a Who last weekend. It was very well done, I recommend that everyone go to see it.

The main message of the film was this: If you believe in something you should say what you believe and stick to it. When the situation arises where Authority and/or The Masses give you the choice of
(a) sticking to your belief and facing persecution
or
(b) denying your belief
you should choose (a). I found this message to be very disturbing. I know that the message has the best of intentions but I believe that there are cases where you should take choice (b) and deny your belief. The film's message is too black and white, and in real life, gray will get you further.

Example 1.0 : Let's assume you believe your boss is an immoral idiot, but the boss likes you. It is smarter to not tell anyone what you really think of your boss.

Maybe that isn't the exact same type of case.

Example 2.0: Let's say you are a young girl in Bible school. You believe that Jesus is a hoax. The teacher wants everyone to sing Jesus Loves Me. You could (a) throw a fit, cry, etc. refuse to sing because Jesus is fake and the Bible school teacher is trying to trick everyone, or you could (b) sing the song.

In my experience, singing Jesus Loves Me went against what was in my heart, but it would have been a smarter political move than crying and telling my Bible school teacher that I hated her because she was trying to trick me into believing in Jesus.

So how should we choose our battles as adults? How many things can we lie to Authority about before we start to become the person we are pretending to be? Is this the start of a double life? Or is it just what normal people do all the time?

A Room of My Own

My kids wrote a descriptive essay describing their bedrooms. It was interesting--after I finished reading them all, I thought about how most teenagers have a little kind of cool haven where they hunker down to live out the droning lonely complicated time that is high school. It's also a place where you shamelessly put all of your identity onto your wall--or the identity you either think you should have or that you want.

The kids all called this room "theirs" and "the only place I own in the house" even though that's a straight up lie because they're all 14 and jobless. But it's like they need a little safe space to curl up because they're not quite ready to not be a kid and it's like their rooms are outside reality.

It made me think of a few things.

1. When I was a teen, I didn't spend time in my room except to sleep, and I shared it with my sister. I tried putting things up on the walls and on a shelf, but it never looked all that great and it never felt like the stuff reflected my personality very well. I carry these same Feng Shui insecurities into adulthood. Also, I was envious of people with cool rooms--I can remember one friend in middle school just had a shitty little room with a daybed, an old dresser, and two desks, but her room felt like her--a whirlwind of life, busyness, and cool people. And boys. And then there were the people with the artsy rooms. I still envy them. But I do have a nice yellow living room, at least.

2. I'm curious about other couples who live together. What happens when you go from having two rooms to one? My boyfriend and I now share a room that's pretty much a bed, night tables, bookshelf, and a dresser (with paint and pictures). But I have all my clothes in the guest bedroom because I get dressed early in the morning, and he's got his computer and music stuff in this room thing that we call "the office." So we still have our own spaces, in a way. What do other people do?

3. Does this my-room-as-my-little-haven thing go away as we get older? Do we start to deal with life in a way that we don't need to curl up with our band posters and YA series praying that we're not boring but we're not the only ones like us? Maybe homes start becoming more like places to relax than hide or escape.

I still like band posters and YA series, though.