a surprising first day back at the gym

Wednesday I decided I could venture back to the Y and try using the elliptical trainer for 10 minutes or so. My stomach was/is still sore– especially around my belly button– but I knew I had to get back into the habit of working out at some point.

So I put my sneakers and gym clothes on, and got into the car with Jo to drive to the Y. On the way we thought we smelled cat pee, but couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. In the Y, I started to stretch a little, and immediately noticed where the smell was coming from. My $100+ running sneakers! Yellowed with dried cat pee! I was grossed out, and mortified. Yuck, yuck, yuck!

Now, we have cats. And like any pet, once in a while they might pee outside of the box. This is **extremely** rare, though, in our house. I know people who can’t even tell that their apartment stinks of old, uncleaned cat pee. That is the opposite of us as we have an impeccably clean apartment and if peeing ever happens, it is cleaned up thoroughly and immediately (and we scorn those other people for making it difficult for people to rent with cats!). My sneakers hadn’t been used in 2+ weeks, so who knows when the peeing incident occurred. And why we didn’t smell them before, I don’t know. The sneakers were next to our cat Boo’s bed, and since he is the only one who ever pees outside of the box, I can only guess that it was him. Maybe he’s against my attempt to stay in shape?

This is Boo. And it’s impossible to get really mad at him because he is “specially abled” (we call it “Boo-abled”). He has cerebellar hypoplasia and we rescued him 11 years ago from a shelter in NY right before they put him to sleep. At the time, they told us he would never use the box and eat on his own, but that proved to be very, very incorrect. Boo is incredible. He uses the box without any problems (98% of the time) and eats on his own just fine. To do both, he has to lay down (so we keep the box extra clean for him). When he eats he cups the bowl in one paw, and scoops food into his mouth with the other. He is truly a trooper. There is very little that Boo can’t figure out what to do. This cat, although a little more limber than Boo (possibly younger, as Boo has slowed down in his advanced years), walks very much like him. Go Charley!

Anyway, back to the Y. Completely disgusted with my sneakers, but determined to do what I came to do (work out), I spent half an hour washing my sneakers with shampoo in the sink. Then, I tried drying them with one of the hairdryers (the kind attached to the wall). Needless to say, they were still wet, but at least clean, when I finally got on the elliptical trainer. And it turns out running sneaks work just fine wet, even if I was leaving wet footprints all over the place.

Right now I’m washing the sneakers more thoroughly in the washing machine (I’m dogsitting), so they’ll hopefully be dryer and ready for me to go to the Y with later on today. Jeez.

new adventures in cooking

I don’t write much about food here. I might mention my love of good dark beer, but that’s pretty much it. I love cooking (and eating) but rarely have time for the cooking part. For the last bunch of years I’ve been in grad school I mostly make quick meals, and eat the same thing over and over again (leftovers). Maybe that’s why my body demanded that I stop being a vegetarian. The never ending rotation of dinners– pasta w/ veggies, spaghetti and garlic bread, veggie burgers, veggie tacos, and egg and cheese sandwiches etc.– was getting pretty boring. And there’s only so many cheese and tomato sandwiches a person can eat for lunch. Sure, I could have cooked more interesting vegetarian food, but I didn’t have the time. In NY I actually used to bake bread from scratch, but I haven’t tried that since moving here (and I really should!!).

And then last summer I added in meat to my diet, and all of a sudden cooking dinner and making lunches is infinitely more interesting. First of all, Jo and I can cook and eat together (she was always a meat eater, and I never realized what awesome roasted chicken she makes!) and I could experiment with cooking meals with actual protein in them (that’s not to say veggie food doesn’t have protein, of course, just not what I was eating). We’re eating much better too. I eat significantly less pasta and bread, and eat all around healthier meals with less cheese and more veggies.

For the last few weeks I’ve been cooking a lot with sun dried tomatoes, feta, and pine nuts. I saute chicken in garlic and olive oil and then add the nuts, spinach and sun dried tomatoes. I toss it with feta and some pasta (not much pasta though) and it is wonderful. Really yummy. I’m completely addicted to sun dried tomatoes for some reason. They’re also great in salads and omelets as well.

Last night we had friends over and randomly picked a recipe for apricot glazed chicken out of a cookbook. It was heavenly, and so very easy to make. And tonight we used the rest of the apricot glaze to saute shrimp in and had shrimp, veggies and rice. I would definitely make it again.

I think every week I need to make a serious effort try a different recipe. Simple, yummy recipes. And that cooking new things with friends should also be a much more regular occurance– at least a couple times a month. While we were standing around my kitchen last night drinking, cooking, and planning for visits with each other when we’re all professors, I realized again how fast all of this is suddenly going by.

on healing (and why didn’t I know this?)

So I am feeling much more like myself, finally. And I’m not taking the vicodin anymore which means I can think and do things like I used to. This is good, because I can only take so much of lying around on the couch, sleeping too much and watching too much TV. Highlights of this past week include Jo bringing home my favorite Ben & Jerry’s (currently Karamel Sutra, although NY Super Fudge Chunk has been my all time favorite since high school) and watching the entire first season of Dead Like Me. Unfortunately, I was too out of it to even catch up on all the mysteries I want to read. I worked from home yesterday, and went into school for a meeting, and I’ll be back full time on Monday (and hopefully able to wear normal pants instead of sweat pants all the time).

Today I had a follow-up with the doctor who did my surgery. I adore her– she is seriously my favorite doctor ever. It was pretty much great news all around. Everyone who saw me at the clinic was amazed at how wonderful I looked compared to the last time they saw me (when I was having complications from the surgery and looked like the walking dead). They took out my stitches and the doctor explained that she believed I would never have anything like this happen again. She said it was such a “1 in a million” atypical kind of cyst to twist around like that, that she didn’t think anyone would ever get one, let alone get a second one. That was a huge relief. The last thing I want to do is go through all of that again. Leave it to me to have something so atypical happen!

Then, she asked me a hilariously odd question– “how long have you been a lesbian?” and I wasn’t sure what she meant or how to answer. It turned out that what she meant was if I had ever been on, or thought anything about, birth control pills. Really, I never have. I think I was on it for a few months in early college for terrible cramps. But, otherwise I know next to nothing.

Now, this might be too much information for some readers, but I am too excited not to blog it. So deal. She explained that what she wanted me to do was take the pill so that I would only get my period 4 times a year. 4 times a year! She said it is absolutely safe, and that it puts me completely in control of when I get it (and it lowers my risk for ovarian cancer). This is completely the opposite of how I’ve ever experienced my periods. I never know when I’m going to get them. It could be every 4 weeks, it could be 7. I literally can’t keep up. And when I do get it, it is painful as all hell. When I go to the gyno and they want to know when my last one was, and usually I can’t even tell them. And they always send me home with some little calendar to keep track of it on, but who really ever does that?

But it turns out I can totally control it. I can plan it (and I love love love planning!) so that I don’t have to worry about it when I don’t want to– like at the national conference this summer when I’m on the job market. Suddenly, I feel like one of those ellated women on a birth control pill commercial. I was just thrilled to pick up my prescription today.

Actually, I really wish I knew about this sooner. Like years and years ago. Is it something new? Is it something I would have known if I were straight and on the pill regularly for birth control? I don’t know, but I’m thrilled to know about it now.

expectations

When they first told me I’d need immediate surgery last week, they also told me it was a “simple” procedure and that I’d be “up and around” in a few days.

Well, it turns out that prognosis didn’t really take into account all the pain I was in previous to the surgery (which really does a number on a body), all the hugely high doses of pain meds they pumped me with (also not so great for the body), and didn’t consider painful complications after the surgery.

And I think their definition of “up and around” is different than how I originally heard it. I thought “up and around” meant going into work (a desk job, not too strenuous) but I guess they thought “up and around” meant walking the short distance from the couch to the kitchen and reaching into the fridge. Having 3 incisions where they cut through muscles and stuff, not to mention removing large objects, actually means I am sore as all hell. Like, really sore. I’m certainly not going to be trudging up Bascom Hill, or working out on the elliptical trainer anytime soon.

So despite the fact that in my mind I think I should be starting to do regular things (work, working on my dissertation etc.), I’m not able to and that drives me nuts. So my big goals for the day are to take a shower and maybe go to Trader Joe’s. And since the vicodin makes me feel so loopy, I can’t really do much academic work beyond responding to emails from interviewees. So I can do some of that. And since it is so nice out, I’ll have to sit outside for a while.

I’m not good at this “taking it easy” and I also think I shouldn’t even complain because people have much more serious surgeries and health problems every day. So now I am expecting to maybe go into school Thursday. Until then I’ll try not to get too bored.

twisted cyster (aka out of commission)

My week started out so typically. Monday afternoon I worked at the library on my dissertation. I made a nice, focused “to do” list for the rest of the week, and worked at editing the article/chapter draft I wrote last week. I was looking forward to a “normal” week of going to work, and then heading to the library every day to cross all kinds of things off of my list.

But, nope. Instead I’ve spent the week at the hospital.

It all started last Wednesday night. I had horrible cramps/pain in my abdomen. It went away though, the next morning, and I chalked it up to my period. Then, I continued to get horrible pain at intervals through the weekend, but I took aleve, and went on with my daily business of working out etc. Sunday night things got really bad again, and I started worrying that maybe what I was feeling was another ovarian cyst. I had one back in 2004 that ruptured on its own, but caused a tremendous amount of pain doing so. The difference, though, was that that pain didn’t come and go like this pain, over days and days. Jo noticed my stomach was bloated and a little “lopsided” and I definitely had the pain on the side that was more swollen (the left). But, I’m incredibly stubborn. So I took more aleve Sunday night and went in to school on Monday.

Tuesday morning the pain started up again, and started getting worse and all could do was curl up in a ball and moan. It was so bad, that I actually called my obgyn. They wanted to see me right away. After giving me the first of what would be many injections of painkiller, they sent me in for an ultrasound.

Waiting for the utltrasound was awful. I was curled up in on a couch in the lobby of the hospital moaning and trying to play solitare on my ipod to take my mind of the pain. At some point I just started to cry, and they managed to get me in a little earlier for the ultrasound. The person who does the ultrasound isn’t supposed to tell you anything they see. But, the woman who did mine gasped audibly and then started saying how bad she felt for me. I could clearly see on the screen that there was something very large in my stomach that didn’t look like it was supposed to be there.

Indeed, I had another cyst in my ovary. This time much larger (5 inches). At that point I was sure they would probably want to remove it, but instead they sent me home with vicodin, explaining that it would probably rupture on its own. Nice. I wasn’t very happy about being sent home, but I also wasn’t in the position to protest much. So we went home.

Well it turned out the cyst didn’t rupture on its own, and the painkillers did nothing. Nothing. A couple more hours of suffering later, we called them and they decided that removing it was probably the best thing (ah, duh!). So, Jo drove me back to the hospital. I couldn’t even walk at that point. They admited me right away and started pumping me with painkillers. But the painkillers did nothing. Not a damned thing. At least I had a private room to moan and cry in on my own– and the nurses were the nicest, awesomist people in the world. I spent Tuesday afternoon and evening trying to handle massive amonts of pain, while Jo rubbed my back, and a nurse asked me for painstakingly small details about my dissertation in an attempt to distract me from the pain (that sort of worked, actually). She tried everything in the book to try to make me comfortable, and she really rocked. All the while, the doctor raised hell in surgery and managed to get me in there earlier than scheduled (around 8pm) and finally, someone just knocked me out of my misery already.

I woke up in recovery, and found out that they managed to save my ovary (despite the cyst that had grown to 7 inches and was twisted around my ovary multiple times) and that they took out my appendix while they were in there (I guess we don’t need those). The rest of the night I spent being cared for by wonderful nurses and sleeping and sleeping in relative peace, considering the fact they woke me up for pain meds and vitals every 45 minutes or so. Compared to the pain of that afternoon, I felt great.

Now I haven’t stayed in a hospital since I was 15, and some things have changed and some are the same. One of the stranger things they do now in the hospital is “scan” your ID bracelet whenever they check your vitals or give you meds. Literally, it is like the scanner at the cash register, and it made for multiple jokes about working at WalMart all through the night. A slew of doctors and residents came in early in the morning to check on my stomach and incisions, and I guess at one point I decided I could get myself in and out of bed without help and managed to tangle myself in the IV cord. I ate some food that morning (yucky hospital toast– how they can screw up toast, I don’t know) and they sent me home around mid day, seemingly on my way to feeling better.

But at home overnight I started feeling worse. Very sick and very dizzy. The next morning, we called the hospital and I groaned when they told me to come in. I literally went in in my PJs, feeling seriously horrible. I spent the day being wheeled around for tests by some wonderful nurses (again, are nurses ever not wonderful??), who insisted I looked “adorable” even though I hadn’t showered in days. I got more pain meds, injected into everyplace you can imagine. I’ll leave out the more horrible details, but I ended up getting a CT scan to make sure I didn’t have any kind of secondary infection, or nicked bladder (ugh!). Fortunately, I had none of these, so they sent me home again with more pain meds.

And finally I am starting to feel better. I slept relatively well on the couch last night and the cats seem to know not to pounce on me. My stomach is still sore as hell, but that’s to be expected. I ate real food last night (cereal) and drank a little coffee this morning. I managed to go through some of the hundreds of emails I’ve been ignoring. Basically, because of the surgery and the pre-surgery pain, and all the pain meds, I’m just going to have to listen to my body and take it easy for a few more days to recover. This is hard for me to do, but I’m managing. To keep from trying to work today, I think I’ll watch the first season of Dead Like Me. And let me tell you how awesome the people at Meriter hospital are. All of them. I think I’ll send some thank you cards. And Jo has been a serious saint– I don’t know how she’s managed at all.

So that’s where I’ve been, dear readers. If you’re lucky I might even post pictures of my cyst in all its twisted craziness, because, well, you have to see it to believe it. I’m so grateful to have wonderful people around me (and great painkillers) through this ordeal and to finally be on the mend!

the (not so) hidden costs of getting a PhD

There was a lot I didn’t know about getting a PhD and academia in general when I started grad school back in 2002. A lot. I didn’t know what a peer reviewed journal was, I didn’t know people published articles in said journals, I didn’t know that academic conferences even existed, and I had no idea that an important part of grad school was networking with people outside my department.

But, I learned all this very quickly within the first few months of my crash course in academia. And I also decided pretty quickly to follow advice, and force myself to attend professional meetings (whatever those were– I didn’t even know what to expect) from the beginning. Not just for professional networking (which now I hear constantly is critical for the job market), but for networking with others in general outside my department. Doing that has made all the difference for me in getting through grad school. I’ve been lucky to have a wide support system of grad students and faculty in other places that I could I contact when I needed advice or support. I had a few people from my first year who told me if I ever even thought of dropping out I had to call them first. I think I only did that once, but just knowing that I could do that really helps.

All this networking, though, is expensive. And as I reach my final year in grad school where conference attendance is not at all optional, the costs are really adding up. There are professional org membership fees, conference fees, meals, hotels, required journal subscriptions etc. I didn’t even realize by getting my paper accepted to another conference this summer (one that runs at the same time as ASA) that I’d be paying those fees as well.

If you’re from a working/middle class family, and not somehow independently wealthy, the only way to actually do this stuff is to go into debt doing it. Grad student jobs barely pay enough to live let alone save up money for conferences and other fees. Department and university grants sometimes defray these costs, but that’s IF you get them, and if they’re available at all. Let’s look at what I am facing in costs for just this calendar year. I’m not complaining that any one of these organizations costs too much (in fact, many of them do a lot to keep costs down for grad students!) but that they add up rather quickly.

• SWS membership fee: $14 (includes subscription to Gender & Society– the only journal I don’t mind getting in print!)
• SWS winter meeting registration: $100 (subsidized, and includes breakfast, and banquet)
• SWS winter meeting meals: ~$80 for 3 days
• SWS winter meeting hotel and airfare: ~$100 (heavily subsidized, thank goodness!)
• MSS (Midwest Sociology Society) membership: $21 (I had to become a member to apply for a grant)
• ASA membership fee: $18
• ASA mandatory journal subscription $25 (this one really annoys me– I don’t like having to receive paper journals when everything is online now)
• ASA section membership: $10 (for 2 sections)
• ASA meeting registration: $75
• SSSP membership fee: $30
• SSSP meeting registration: $90 (this is where I am doing the extra presentation, and this includes the banquet which is great for networking!)
• SWS summer meeting + banquet: ~$35 (not sure on this cost yet)
• ASA/SWS/SSSP hotel, airfare and food: ~$250 (travel and hotel heavily subsidized through SWS because I am an officer– which is a nice benefit I didn’t know about when I ran!)

Total: $848

This total would be much more if my travel wasn’t subsidized by SWS. I estimate that usually (even sharing a room with people) this costs about $400-$500 per meeting for students. And I also hear that there are more job market expenses coming up, like mailing application materials, and attending the job market “speed dating” at ASA. I have no idea what those costs will be. Oh, and I’ll need a suit, nice clothes, new shoes, etc.

That’s quite a chunk to charge or take out loans for, especially when you multiply that total by the 3-4 years (or more) that a student will most likely spend going to conferences over the course of grad school (you can’t just network the year you’re on the job market, after all!)

As you see, I don’t mind paying extra to attend a banquet when I think it will be a great chance to network and visit with friends, and the cost is reasonable. I received one banquet invitation for the summer that cost $56, but that is far too much, IMHO. I wonder when things are priced like that if any consideration is given to how many graduate students won’t be able to justify the cost of attendance.

Now, I made the choice to go into debt, because, well, I’m going into big time debt anyway by just going to grad school. So my logic is always this: what’s a few hundred more in debt to attend a conference, when I already have $XX,XXX+ in debt to pay off any way? Maybe that’s not financially savvy, but I always figured that if I was going to get a PhD I was going to take it very seriously and do whatever I had to do to get through and get a job at the end. Not everyone is going to be able to make that decision, or even want to make the decision to go into more debt. What barriers does this create for working class individuals in academia? If someone literally can’t afford to even go into debt for conferences, what kind of disadvantage are they put in for the job market? How does being able to afford these networking options (either outright, or by going in debt) contribute to inequality and elitism in academia? Why isn’t all this talked about much?

It’s clear I’ll be busy paying off debt for quite a while. But, I estimate that if I get a job for ~$55,000, and then live off of only ~$30,000 of that, I’ll still feel very well off compared to what I make now, and I’ll be able to pay off the loans pretty quickly. That’s the plan anyway. When I’ll be able to do real adult stuff like buying a house, I’m not sure.

And I’ll remember when I’m a professor what it feels like to sit at dinner with faculty and worry about what to order when you only have less than $15 to spend on the meal, and then panic when everyone else decides to split the meal equally instead of figuring out what each person owes (a practice which should never even be considered an option when dining with poor grad students, BTW).

burying my head in the sand

As illustrated by this IM conversation between my sister and I (she=pink, me=green), I’ve been pretty successful at altogether ignoring the presidential election.

Are you nervous for today?

No not really

b/c two people already read my draft and thought it was good

Huh?

for the primaries?

LOL

I thought you meant writing group

No lol

This cartoon describes exactly where I’m at with politics right now. It could be written about me.

I’ll start paying attention again when the democrats sort themselves out and start focusing on actually beating McCain. I am more than happy to go to writing group tonight and think about my dissertation instead of trying not to watch the returns come in.

remembering the little things

Sometimes it helps to think of the big picture and sometimes it helps to focus on the small details. It’s hard to know when to do what. Sometimes thinking of the big picture (i.e. job market) means waking up at 4am for three mornings in a row worrying in a ridiculous way about how to write cover letters. There is no need for me to worry about that right now. I’m sure that before I have to write one I’ll have some examples. And it will get done. *sigh*

This past week was just yucky. The only things I could focus on (and worry about) were impending changes in grad school and life. And I was cranky because writing wasn’t going well (I hate it when it is so forced, and so difficult). And I received three rejection letters for fellowships right in a row– one a day for three days! I’m beyond the point of thinking that is somehow a reflection on me, or the quality of my research, but it is still irritiating as all hell. I mean, everyone at conferences etc. is always fascinated by my dissertation… couldn’t that at least turn into a thousand bucks or something?

Eventually, I worked through my crankiness and managed to make major headway on writing the article/diss chapter. It only took burying myself in the lovely, musty smelling library for 8+ hours one day. And when I manage to work past the tough stuff when writing, then I love it. Like, really love it, and it is all I can think about all the time. I wish just getting to that place took less time!

But, I’d still kind of like to back up to last weekend, and do this week again trying to remember to focus on little steps instead of becoming overwhelmed by the huge stuff looming on the horizon. Like the pictures I took last weekend in the arboretum– I had to look really closely to find some bits of color.

Tonight I’m forcing myself out of the comfort of my house to have a drink with a friend. I need to get out. I used to go out like that all the time and just laugh about everything. It’s clearly something I still need to do.

aggravated

Why am I aggravated? For so many reasons… my upcoming article draft deadline and how difficult writing continues to be, the fact it is nearly the End Of The Semester, the general lack of enough hours in the day, impending job market tasks, the fact that that my diss is completely fascinating to all who hear about it but not fundable, stupid meaningless presidential election “debates,” and local news that makes me sick, among other un-bloggable things. I should just camp my crankiness out in the library for the rest of the semester and ignore everything else.

I don’t get this aggravated very often. Really, I don’t. But when I do, very little makes me feel better.

This video, though, totally makes me laugh out loud. It is brilliantly adorable– even more so that engineers made it. I love it. Enjoy!

who knew?

At work today we were trying to figure out what to call an event we’re advertising. For all intents and purposes it is basically a lecture, but who wants to go to a lecture?

We debated between two big buzzwords in academia– “symposium” and “colloquium.”

We first looked up “colloquium” and as we suspected, it usually refers to one person presenting research that is then critiqued by their colleagues. That didn’t fit.

Then, I looked up “symposium.”

Symposium originally referred to a drinking party (the Greek verb sympotein means “to drink together”) but has since come to refer to any academic conference, whether or not drinking takes place.

And in that case who wouldn’t want to go to a symposium?!

But then there’s more:

The Greek symposium was a forum for men to debate, plot, boast, or simply to party with others. They were frequently held to celebrate the introduction of youths into aristocratic society, much like debutante balls today. Youth would attend as the companion and eromenos of an adult with whom he was involved in a pederastic relationship. Symposia were also held by aristocrats to celebrate other special occasions, such as victories in athletic and poetic contests.

Symposia were usually held in the men’s quarters of the household. Singly or in pairs, the men would recline on couches arrayed against the three walls of the room away from the door. Free boys who participated did not recline but sat. Food was served, together with wine. The latter, usually mixed with water in varying proportions, was drawn from the krater, a large jar designed to be carried by two men, and served by nude servant boys from pitchers. Entertainment was provided, and depending on the occasion could include games, songs, flute-girls, slaves performing various acts, and hired entertainments. A symposium would be overseen by a symposiarch who would decide how strong or diluted the wine for the evening would be, depending on whether serious discussions or merely sensual indulgence were in the offing [...] Symposiasts could also compete in rhetorical contests, for which reason the term symposium has come to refer to any event where multiple speeches are made. (wikipedia)

So the next time you see an advertisement for a symposium, well, just keep the history in mind.

a request for more hours in the day

There is way too much I want to do today. I’ve already had a very productive long weekend. We spent Thursday and Friday ripping apart our office, going through everything, and then putting together a new desk and reorganizing everything. It turned out to be quite a project. As a result of that, I noticed my dissertation files were out of date (I set them up way back when I started writing my proposal) so I went through files, articles, old proposal drafts etc. and got those organized. And then, while I was in the mood to organize, I went through all my research consent forms and demographic data, and updated my spreadsheet and alphabatized. I even finished off the day yesterday reading through a bunch of articles I had set aside in a “to read” pile and sipping a lovely gin and tonic. It was time well spent, but I could have also been writing. Was all that productivity just procrastinating from writing?

So today I would like to somehow do all these things:

• Go to the arboretum to get some fresh air and take photos with C.
• Go to the Y with Jo and work out for at least 30 minutes on the elliptical trainer.
• Brew some more beer– I finished drinking the first batch, and loved it, so this time I’m going to try making some Irish stout. It will take about a month to brew, but will be worth it in the end!
• Go and sell some books at Half Price, and maybe pick up some more mysteries to add to my growing pile of books to read.
• Going to dinner at B and J’s for a belated birthday carrot cake.
• Finishing my abstract for a journal submission (due the 15th)
• Oh, yeah, and mapping out the revisions for the article draft due Friday!

Can I do it all? I’m not sure there are enough hours, but I still want to try! Really, I often think that it would be best if we could re-organize time to make days 26 or 28 hours long. Time really doesn’t follow our rotation around the sun exactly, anyway, right? So we could just tweak it? Good. Let’s work on that.

Oh, and here’s a picture of our new office. We still need to hang up a couple bulletin boards, and I need to do something about the mess of cables under the desk. But, it looks so much better than it did before when 2 desks and 2 bookcases were crammed along that wall! On the right is the filing cabinet and the upright grand with Jo’s recording gear on top. And on the left are just windows overlooking the creek. The wall opposite this one has a closet and bookcase (I have way too many books!)

And Gertie loves the desk, by the way. She thinks all that extra work space is for her to nap on!

comfortable

Could it be that after all the time and energy I’ve spent trying to finish grad school, and get back to the east coast, that in going through the motions of “getting there,” I’ve managed to make myself (too) comfortable here?

Someone once noted that I’m definitely a “nester.” I think that’s true. I love to be home and I love making my home as cozy and personal as possible. Right now our apartment (lacking a guest bedroom) is close to perfect for us. Last night we stayed up working on the office. We originally had two desks in there, but replaced those with one geogeous desk with lots of space for spreading out work on the top. We had to take off two doors to get the old university metal desk out of the apartment (and jeez are my arms sore today) but now the space looks much more “our style” and really very nice. Today we’re heading out to buy some storage boxes for office supplies and such. Other than the fact I have way too many books, the space works really well and it looks like the office is much bigger than it was before.

Despite not being big fans of the mid west in general, and being too far from friends and family back east, we’ve worked really hard to make this place home and it actually feels like that is clicking right now. And this comes 6 years into being here and 1 year away from leaving! We love our apartment, we canoe on the creek right outside our door, and we just joined the local Y. We have a couple couples and people we love to hang out with and go out with. We even know our neighbors and the local neighborhood politics. We’re nesters, and we’ve “nested” here for now.

So what does this all have to do with grad school and with the whole goal of our being here– to get a PhD and move on to the next stage of our lives? Suddenly I’m able to see past all the struggles and hurdles and all the time it took me to adjust in the first place, and I can see how far I’ve come, and feel, well, kinda sorta comfortable here with the way things presently are. I have my writing group, my semi-boring day job that I know how to do and where I am very appreciated, I have my grad school friends/colleagues around for support, and my mentor at arm’s length. What more do I need (other than to make more money)?

Anyway, I’ve just been thinking a lot lately about our big inevitable move and transition to wherever I get a job. It took a lot for us to move here. A lot. And it took a lot of tears, gray hair and tension headaches for me to actually feel comfortable and realitively confident in grad school. What will the next transition take? Or, rather, I guess I should think about it not as having things “taken” but as “what more is there to be gained?” And stuff that is comfortable is already starting to shift, and I just hope I’m stronger than the last time around.

birthday weekend

This past weekend was wonderful for a bunch of reasons. Saturday was my 31st birthday, and I spent it watching movies and hanging out at home (not checking my email and not writing or surfing the web). That night we went out to dinner with a bunch of great people– Irish food and lots of Guinness!

Sunday I continued the computer break as much as I could. We planned our next home project– redoing our office. We ordered a new desk to give us more workspace (it will replace the old metal UW desk I bought when when we first moved here) and next weekend once the new desk is in, we’ll go through all of our stuff and organize. I love spring cleaning.

It was wonderfully warm on Sunday. I even managed to wear my newest pair of keen sandals for most of the day. We went to the Y and also took a walk before the sun went down. This is my favorite time of the day. The light is just spectacular. I must make it a practice to get out and take pictures more. I’m toying with the idea of trying to take a photo a day– but I’m reluctant to add a new project (and new pressure) to my plate right now!

Maybe multitasking isn’t such a great skill afterall

Yikes, is it really April? Am I really turning 31 tomorrow? Did I really plan to have 2 dissertation chapters written by the end of the semester? Am I really going on the job market this fall?

Suddenly after *trying* so hard to be done with grad school for so long, I wouldn’t mind if it could slow down considerably for a bit.

I’m feeling frazzled lately, and I have this strong urge to go on some kind of wilderness retreat, or to climb a mountain and go camping or something (all without wireless internet). And I had a dream last night about my private investigator grad school escape fantasy.

I think trying to do too much at once and suddenly I can’t handle it all. First of all, I spend way too much time on the computer (maybe 90% of the time I’m awake) and while I’m on the computer I’m usually doing a bunch of things at once (reading blogs, reading news, replying to dissertation interview emails, writing etc.). When I’m at work I do so many things on the computer at once that I often open up Firefox (or another application) only to forget why I needed it in the first place. Actually, I’m always doing more than one thing at once. When I’m on the bus I read while also listening to music, while also thinking about whatever else is on my mind. While I watch TV I also catch up on emails and the internet (while also eating, drinking and chatting with Jo). Instead of making me feel productive, this is suddenly making me feel very scattered.

And I’m thrilled about my 2 hours of dedicated writing time a day, and about the accomplishment of going to the Y every other day, but finding time for both is proving difficult. Mostly this is because it turns out the best time to go to the Y is early afternoon– when I usually like to be in the library giving (mostly) undivided attention to my dissertation.

I need to re-organize my schedule to somehow better juggle these things. And I need to try to concentrate on only one thing at a time. And I think I need to cut down on my computer time, while also keeping up with all the email I get (research and otherwise). Not to mention how coding data will fit into this– something I know I will love, but will put me in front of my macbook for even longer stretches of time.

In other news, my sister is on a plane on her way to England right now. She hasn’t been there since she was 6 months old! I wish I was tagging along with her, sans macbook for a change!

I must have a guardian angel (or something)

Although I don’t believe in angels as people walking on clouds dressed in white with wings, I do believe that sometimes we all have someone looking out for us– wherever or whatever they might be.

So yesterday was an all around crazy day. It started (not atypically, actually) with me missing like 3 buses. One I missed because I panicked that I had lost my ipod, only to then find it in my gym bag (this whole “gym bag” thing is still very new to me). By the time I *finally* got into school, I was running way late and generally rushing around. The first spastic thing I did was drop my cell phone down 2 flights of stairs in the sociology building. While I walked down the stairs after it, I figured it had to be dead, and thought it was a nice excuse for buying a new one. Well, it actually didn’t break, but the cool leaf charm I had on it snapped off.

Then I headed back down the hill to help someone I work with pack up an event at the union. I didn’t have to do much, just carry a pretty light box down the stairs to her car. But, still, I was feeling all rushed and crazy from being late all day. Somehow, I managed to trip coming down a flight of stairs (marble, slippery stairs) and I watched myself falling forward holding the box in slow motion. I distinctly remember thinking that falling down a flight of marble stairs was not going to be pleasant. But, then, out of no where, a guy jumped in front of me and literally caught me in his arms. In his arms. I don’t know how he did it, and it was all very fast, but somehow I only wound up with a banged knee. I thanked him and apologized for my general klutziness and he said something like “no problem” and left.

Well, although I’m not a fan of interacting unnecessarily with strangers, but whoever this guy is, I’d like to publicly thank him for saving me from what would have been a nasty fall!

I’d also like to stress that while I’m not generally superstitious, I do, however illogically, think things happen in threes most of the time. So I had two incidences with stairs, and I’m sort of waiting for a third. In the meantime, I’ll try to be very careful on stairways.

the only thing constant is change

Well, I’ve come to a decision that might surprise readers as I haven’t talked much about the process of making it here. I’ve never been sure if academia was right for me– and I’ve always struggled to fit both culturally and intellectually. I’m much more working class, and would just be much more comfortable making that kind of living. I thought a lot about what I *really* want to do and what I could see myself happily doing 20 years from now. The answer is kind of obvious if you know me. I’ve owned detective kits and read mysteries since I was a kid, so I think being a P.I. would be a much better fit for me. And I know I’m good at it– I recently found my dad’s birth family for crying out loud! I would definitely specialize in historic and genealogy cases (definitely not financial cases like V.I., rather more like Mary Russell) and this works perfectly with my love of old photos. I can be in charge of my own hours and schedule without the pressure of publishing. And “work” will consist of spending hours in the library and doing internet research. All things I love!

So I applied for P.I. training so I can get a head start before we move back east. Then, I’ll get my P.I. license in whatever state we end up in. I haven’t yet decided what the best way to break this to my grad school friends yet. I don’t want all the drama that sometimes surrounds leaving the program and making a big career change, so my plan is to just kind of vanish at the end of the semester and have my own business up and running in the fall!

I’m not sure what this means for my blog. There will definitely be changes. You’ll have to wait and see.

(oh yeah, happy April Fool’s Day!)

some progress!

So for the last 3 weeks I’ve been going to the Y every other day. And you know what? Today was the first day I really felt great after working out (instead of feeling like I want to sleep for 20 hours). And I felt great even though I went for 35 minutes and 2.5 miles on the elliptical trainer– much more than I usually do. So, maybe I’ll get the swing of this after all!

I actually like the Y. I like the people there, and the atmosphere is very comfortable and friendly. Jo chats it up and meets people in the sauna while I walk around with my headphones on, so it works perfectly for both of us.

The one thing I don’t understand about the Y is why they always have the weather channel on in front of the elliptical trainers. I listen to music anyway, but it is hard not to watch a screen that is right in front of you. I can’t think of anything more thoroughly boring than 30+ minutes of the weather channel. If I didn’t have music to listen to, it would make me want to leave.

In other news, I’m dogsitting this weekend. And the dog seems thoroughly bored with me right now, which I don’t understand since I walk her and play fetch with her outside a few times a day. I can’t imagine her parents play with her much more than that. She just wants to play with me constantly. All the time. Tugging with toys, wrestling on the couch, and whatever else puppies do. And then I feel bad when I am working on my laptop instead of playing. I am convinced this dog does not see me as much of an authority figure. I’m not the alpha-dog. I think I am more of a playmate with some measure of authority– just like an older sibling.

strange dreams

The last few nights I’ve had some very vivid dreams. Very vivid, and very odd. They’re probably stress dreams, and given the most recent Ms. Mentor column, they’re pretty common.

In one, I was at a wedding. It was here in town, on the east side, and it might have been the wedding of two women (but I’m not sure). It was very thrown together at the last minute. And after the ceremony everyone received “wedding favors” (like kids party favors) but our favors were gift certificates for Home Depot. And they were all for very strange and different amounts– mine was for $11.08. We were under some kind of pressure to spend the gift cards right then, so we traveled to Home Depot together to do this. And for some reason Home Depot was selling only non-fiction academic-type books, and they didn’t have any that I was interested in. I wasn’t even sure they were “real” academic books. So I bought something I thought I could sell back to another bookstore.

Last nights’ dream was very stressful. I was in a bar with lots of people–including my cousins who I haven’t seen in years. And I had my shoulder bag with me (the one that carries *everything* that is important). While I was catching up with my cousins, my bag was misplaced. I won’t say stolen, but it was definitely missing. I was seriously freaking out about it, and trying to talk to the bartenders about loosing my bag. But they kept dismissing me and telling me I was drunk. I would explain that I wasn’t drunk, that I was upset about my bag, and I got more upset with them, and then they called security to have me removed because they thought I was obviously very drunk. They just wouldn’t believe me. And security came, and I couldn’t find my bag. There was no resolution. I just woke up in the middle of the night feeling like I was missing something.

Ah, grad school…

In other news, strange dreams aren’t all I’ve seemed to pick up in grad school. Somehow I went from being “too nice” when I started, to becoming overly snarky and unduly harsh in a recent article draft I wrote for my writing group. Now I’m really not being hard on myself for a change (oh, well, maybe I am a little) but it is simply hilarious to me that I managed to write in such a harsh, snarky way. This is hilarious for a few reasons. (1) I am generally not a snarky or harsh person. At least my reputation is usually that I am “too nice.” It’s not that I always wanted that reputation, but I’m not about to go out and change it by being mean (but I have been working on being snarky). (2) I simply know better– I know how to write in a way that is critical and thoughtful and constructive (at least I think I kind of do). I can actually remember advising other people to be constructively critical instead of negative in their writing! (3) It has taken me years in grad school, and a good chunk of my life thus far, to think critically about other scholar’s work. And then to articulate what I think. And then somehow I suddenly go way too far!

Anyway, it was only a draft, and I have a really clear idea of what I need to do to fix it up (and make it all nice-nice). Maybe I was in a bad mood while I was writing it and I didn’t realize it at the time. Who knows, but it still cracks me up. I guess at least I know I have it in me.

places I remember

My sister is bugging me to post. And I’m feeling tapped out at the moment. Lately I spend so much time staring at the computer that by the time I get home I just want to close it, and my sore, dry eyes, and curl up on the couch thinking about as little as possible.

Anyway, this should appease her. I found this video on youtube the other day and I love it. It contains two of my favorite things– the song “In My Life” by the Beatles, and my hometown– Bath, Maine.

coincidences

I’m going to meet a professor for coffee this morning. And it is the result of a pretty random coincidence…

See, I am working on a chapter of my dissertation this week. And one of my favorite ways to keep myself from writing as long as possible, is to go through and re-read some of my favorite articles and books on the subject. One book in particular I decided to read basically from cover to cover as it is the only book that has a perspective remotely like one I am using in my dissertation.

Anyway, this book was published 10 years ago, so I decided to go online and see if the author had written anything more recent (another great way to procrastinate from writing!). As I went through her website, happily downloading a couple more recent articles, I glanced at her CV and noticed she lives right here in town.

And she doesn’t just anywhere in this rather large “city,” but about 4 houses down the street from where I am sitting reading her book (I’m dog and cat sitting this week). I couldn’t believe it. What are the chances?

I emailed her, and assured her I’m not some weird stalker. So we’re meeting for coffee. I’m sure it will be a great conversation!

This week has really made me reflect on my procrastination habits. I’ve improved so much on this front, especially with my new regular writing habit, but when faced with a deadline I still have the tendency to want to do everything and anything but write. I read and re-read. I watch Law & Order SVU. I design cartoon versions of my friends and family (don’t ask). I’m tempted to re-design my website, spring clean our closets, surf the Internet looking for an obscure piece of information etc.

So I just embrace this knowing that 80% of all work really does get accomplished in just 20% of the time. Struggling against it takes too much energy, and once I finally force myself into the writing groove, I’m okay and I live, think, and breathe whatever I’m writing about. And I love actually having something written to revise. Revising is my favorite part, for some reason. I guess I’ll just have to repeat this laborious process for each chapter of my dissertation…

the impossible has actually happened

At this point you know I’ve tried nearly everything to get myself into a healthy stress-relieving exercise routine and was thwarted at every turn (buying swimming gear -> setting up lessons -> having them fall through for various crazy reasons, then buying running gear -> running -> doing too much too soon -> killing my knees, then deciding I would go to the free gym on campus to use an elliptical machine -> never wanting to bring work out stuff to school and never wanting to go work out in front of undergrads) and something had to give. Well, finally it did. Finally, the sneakers and working out clothes I bought are in use.

Jo and I joined the Y. It is just minutes from where we live, and we were pleasantly surprised (okay, shocked) to find out that according to the Y we count as a family so we get the family rate! They have everything there– a swimming pool, a sauna, whirlpool, a full gym, and all kinds of free classes for members. It is just such a nice community place and even though it is a suburb of the not-as-liberal-as-they-think-they-are Madison, they don’t even seem to mind that we’re a couple. In fact, people are friendly and it is quite a comfortable community.

And last week, for the first time in my life, I walked into the gym at the Y intent on using one of the workout machines. Just going in there was frightening. My first problem was that when faced with all the different machines, I wasn’t sure which one was an elliptical machine. So I felt silly that I had to ask. And there were people on either side of me working out (very fast, I might add). So I had to draw on my well-practiced public bus skill of ignoring with all my might the people next to me. The years of practice actually worked, and I put on some music on my ipod and started to peddle. At that point I realized I also didn’t know how to pick a workout on the machine, but I just peddled anyway and did 25 minutes without dying.

I’ve been four times since. Ever other day. And you know, it actually isn’t so bad with my ipod. I did end up asking someone for help figuring out how to use the machine, so now I can do a kind of interval training to get me prepared to start running (slowly) again in a month or so. I still can’t manage peddling and letting go of the handles long enough to take a drink, but maybe that will improve.

This was a big deal for me– I thought it was impossible to get over my gym phobia. I’m not saying I love going there are running in one place and working out among random people, but I understand it is healthy and I’m sure once I stop feeling sore and tired, I’ll feel all kinds of new energy.

Right?

Hard Times

At the risk of embarrassing him if he reads this blog, let me tell you about one my favorite people and the awesome über-geeky, salt-of-the-earth stuff he does. I’ve known Ben since high school. We used to go camping, mountain climbing and also do crazy stuff like playing “CB Tag” and going mudding in our friend’s truck. We had good times back then, and I’m glad we’ve kept in touch since.

Ben (an engineer) and his friends make their own hard cider. They are also starting their own Orchard in Maine to grow apples for the cider. Ben’s blog, Five Islands Orchard, is one of my favorite reads– it gets my head out of sociology and academia and makes me miss Maine, and makes me miss being near people (Ben and others) who live in/near Maine.

The blog and this website (although it is about the previous year) have some great pictures of the orchard and drawings of the apple presses and bottling machines they design and build to make their cider. I’m talking beyond geeky here– beyond any kind of sociology geekiness I’ve ever seen. And I don’t need to explain that that is a compliment, right? You should already know I just adore geeks and everything geeky.

Well, today in the mail I received a bottle of the fruits of all this geeky designing, building and brewing. I expected something with a hand written label, but I got this gorgeous bottle instead. I haven’t even tried it yet– it should be saved for a special occasion. And I’m so impressed with the name. Sheer brilliance!

a new blog

In addition to Watershed, started a new blog, a kind of methods/research journal for my dissertation. It is sort of public, and sort of private. I don’t want it linked all over the place, but I would love for people who are interested to read it and give me their thoughts and feedback as they would like to. I started it as a way to keep track of my own research process, but given that there is so little out there on the actual practices of doing online research, I am thinking it could be a good tool for others as well.

XXXXphd.wordpress.com

I’ve decided to be more transparent about this, because, well, I don’t think it could hurt. So, if you know my real first name (it isn’t actually Watershed!) then replace those Xs with my name, and there you go!

cuteness!

A long time ago, I might have submitted pictures of my friend’s kitten to the amazing website cuteoverload.com (which I guarantee will cheer you up if you ever feel gloomy). And I was just catching up on reading through feeds, when I noticed little Sam made it on the website!

How cool is that?

idiosyncrasies

You might remember that last month I wrote about how my car’s speedometer stopped working.

Well, today it started working again. Totally randomly. I looked down and was startled to notice I wasn’t going 0 miles an hour, I was actually going 40!

Now maybe the back door will stop falling down on me? Maybe the inside light will start working? How about the windshield washer fluid pump?

That’s all probably asking way too much of a 19 year old car with lots of, er, idiosyncrasies. But at least I know how fast I’m going!

I am not friendly.

Hey, you.

Yeah, you the guy who is talking incessantly to me at the laundromat.

Okay. Just because we’re standing here, the only two people in the laundromat, doesn’t mean we have to talk. We don’t have to become friends while we fold our laundry just because we happen to be in the same place. In fact, I don’t want to hear random things about your life that you think might be impressive to me– like how you’re reading Harry Potter for the first time, or how you are going out for pizza with your friends on State Street tonight. I certainly do not want to hear about how you had open heart surgery last year and that you can now bike 100 miles. I don’t actually care that you’re sober and only hang out in coffee shops instead of bars. I’m not even impressed that you know the owner of Mother Fool’s coffee shop because I actually know them too. But I’m not going to offer that information because, get this, I don’t want to talk to you.

What’s worse is that by talking to me in this incredibly friendly way, you’re making me feel bad and you don’t even know it. You’re making me feel bad because I don’t want to talk to you. I have no interest. And I fear that it shows. And it probably doesn’t make you feel very good about how you’re reaching out to people/trying to pick someone up/make a new friend or whatever you’re trying to do. I don’t want to make you feel bad. I don’t want to be unfriendly, but you leave me no choice.

See, I have this “no talking to strangers” policy. It doesn’t matter where I am– the grocery store, an airplane, or the bus, I don’t want to bond with you over our momentarily shared situation. Small conversation is okay– like asking you if you care if I turn off the TV in the laundromat, or making a comment about how long the plane is just sitting on the runway. That’s about how far the conversation should go. Friendly, but short and to the point, and then people leave each other alone.

transpiring now: actual research with actual people!

I am insanely busy right now with data collection, and I love it. I’m actually making great contacts with the “gate keepers” I need to be in touch with in order to gain access to people I need to interview for my dissertation. I just gained unlimited access to an online community with 10,000+ members. That alone will give me enough data for 3+ dissertations. And I have multiple interviews in progress with different individuals through email.

All this interacting with people for my research is very new and exciting. See, my previous research experience is all discourse analysis– mostly reading newspaper transcripts late at night. And up until recently most of my dissertation data collection has been similar– copying/pasting messages from message boards, and downloading documents online.

So actually interacting with actual people is very exciting and incredibly challenging all at once. Everyone is different and everyone has different needs (some want all the interview questions on my research website, some want them emailed, some want them all at once, some want them one at a time, some end up mailing me their responses written out by hand when I don’t specify that I want them emailed back etc.) and I am learning all sorts of things as I go.

My dissertation is about the military– an institution I knew very little about going into this (despite buying and reading books like this one and wondering why someone doesn’t write something like “an idiot’s guide” to the military). Much to my chagrin someone emailed me yesterday to point out that Marines are not soldiers, and that referring to them as such is sort of insulting (not that there is any sort of hierarchy going on at all, of course not!). I was shocked! In all my correspondence I’ve been using “soldier” as a generic term for everyone in the military. Who knows how many people I inadvertently insulted! So now I have two versions of everything– one set of questions for Marines, and one set for the Army, two sets of email protocols, and even two separate websites. It all gets very confusing so I also have all kinds of spreadsheets mapping out who gets what.

I feel like I have this all under control, but learning the ins and outs of interviewing people through email on the fly is not ideal. I realize now that there is very little written on the actual practices of doing research this way. What do you do when someone doesn’t email you back? How long do you wait? How do you know when they’re ignoring you because they’re no longer interested, or just busy and appreciate your reminders?  Everyone I am interviewing is so networked with each other (and I am relying on those networks for more access) that I am constantly trying to bend over backwards not to piss anyone off.

Did I mention how much I love this, though? It is widely exciting. Despite all the stress and worry about doing everything correctly, I feel so very privileged to be doing this basically full time (well, aside from that pesky 20 hour a week desk job). Really, I couldn’t have found a better career for myself.

a watershed book recommendation

This semester in grad school has been very different in tone for a couple reasons. First, I’m not spending entire weekends “binge” writing. Second, I’m not feeling guilty about taking evenings off here and there and relaxing with dinner and a movie.

So why this huge change?

I bought this book at the beginning of the semester. And it has changed my life.

Now I’ve read tons of books on grad school, writing a dissertation and writing in general, because I tend to be one of those people that over-prepares and over-researchers everything. They were all great books– some better than others– but none of them actually pushed me to actually make a writing schedule and stick with it. I couldn’t even stick with that whole “writing your dissertation in 15 minutes a day” thing. I understood the principle behind the idea of writing regularly, but no one book ever convinced me I could just do it.

So I’ve spent the last few years waiting for some kind of writing habit to kick in. My advisor has spent these years nudging me telling me about how much writing a professor needs to produce regularly. I’ve talked to professors who tell me about their daily writing (every morning at 5am, every morning at 4am, every night at 10pm) and I tried out some different times but nothing ever worked. Either I couldn’t find the “perfect” place (library? office? home?) or I didn’t stick with it, and I end up pulling some stressful marathon of writing over a weekend (and chalking it up to my famous procrastination).

This book is different. It doesn’t have anything on the psychology of why we write, why we don’t, or our fears about writing, success/failure etc. (even if it is written by a psychiatrist). Instead it just tells you to just sit down someplace and write at the same time every day. No excuses. And I know usually this “tough love” “just do it” thing works really well for me (and might not work well for everyone else).

The basic idea is that we have to write and that we don’t get to be all moody and angst-filled about it like novelists get to be because we’re writing academic non-fiction. And writers that “wait for inspiration”, or try to “find” time to write, or wait until they’re “in the mood”, don’t actually produce much writing at all (why was this shocking to me?). It is all about a schedule, and a plan, and then sticking to it. And I always used to think stuff like “I can’t keep a regular writing schedule”, to which this brilliant book pointed out that people who say stuff like that follow all kinds of regular schedules (which is true– I am all about schedules for sleeping, eating, drinking beer etc.). And I have my macbook I can bring anyplace. I have no excuses left.

So I made a very simple schedule– 2 hours a day from 2-4pm in my favorite library on campus. And all day Friday is specifically data collection day (which I can do from home). I make a list of concrete stuff I need to do every day, and sit down with the task of checking stuff off. And I’ve found that usually I stay until 5pm because I get in a groove of working– I’ve been waiting for that to happen for years! The writing might not be fun, but I just plug away at it anyway. Now after a few weeks of doing this, I actually feel like my day isn’t complete until I get to have that quiet writing time. And when I get home afterwards I can relax, actually feeling good for a change. The shocking thing is that I’ve handed in some stuff before the deadline (which is insane for me).

I realize I’ll have to add more hours to each day’s writing to actually get my dissertation done, but for now I am just relishing in this new habit. Habits get a bad reputation. Now I’ll all for habits (my beer at 6pm habit is especially important).

Now how do I apply these same principals to going to the gym and using the elliptical machine? How? That’s where I’m stumped. That involves much more than just sitting in the library with my macbook– I need to wear sneakers, and bring gym clothes, and change and stuff. I wish there was a similar book to get me into that habit. Why is that so much harder?

tagged

Since I got to meet and hang out with Wicked Anomie in Las Vegas last weekend, I figured I would consider myself tagged on this meme.

The game: open the nearest book to page 123 and reproduce the 6-8th sentence.

Well, the nearest book to me is the one I’ve been reading today– “Qualitative Data Analysis With NVivo” by Pat Bazeley. I wish it was something more interesting to the wider public, but this is what you get here at Watershed– me and all my geekery. As far as data analysis books go, it is great– and a must read if you’re going to code your data with NVivo 7!

“Sometimes, rather than coding a whole passage for all nodes, researchers code each tiny component of the text at separate nodes, and so connections between nodes become less clearly defined. Rather than be able to use AND queries to find associations, the researcher has to rely on NEAR queries, where it is much more difficult to specify what text should be included. The results from these require much more careful evaluation, as there is less guarantee that the association is meaningful.”

I’m not going to tag anyone– but if you’re reading this, go for it!

Las Vegas (3) (yes, I’m still here!)

The very long time it’s taken me to finish telling you about my trip to Vegas is the result of the fact I was sick as a dog this past week.

Nope, scratch that. I don’t like the phrase “sick as a dog.” Where does it come from anyway? And I definitely wouldn’t want any dog I know to be as sick as I was.

Anyway, I was basically sicker than I’ve ever been in my life. High fever, lying on the floor/couch/bed moaning and thinking I was going to die, sleeping 20+ hours a day sick. I won’t go into any more details because they would basically just alternate between feeling like death warmed over, and watching way too much TV and that would be really boring.

But I am finally feeling a little better. Better enough to work on my laptop and catch up on emails and blogging.

So where was I with Las Vegas?

Well Saturday night I was faced with another choice between going out on “the strip” or going with some locals to a local neighborhood dive bar. Again, I wisely chose the latter. We went to Dino’s, which may be the best local dive bar ever. Ever.

It was Karaoke night. And you know how much I loathe karaoke, right? Well, I really hate it (as much as I hate line dancing). I swear. Except I loved karaoke at Dino’s. Nobody tried to force me to sing and the people who did sing were out of this world crazy good. And characters. Everyone in there was a character. I’ve never seen a more happy and more diverse mix of people in my life (even in NYC). Union guys, bikers, college kids, drag queens, rockabillies, elderly men and women, goth chics, and any other kind of person you could possibly imagine just hung out and danced and drank together. I’ve never seen anything like it. It was intoxicating. People sang everything from Dolly Parton to Frank Sinatra to Freddie Mercury and danced and cheered each other on. There wasn’t a trace of pretentiousness, uptightness, or snootiness from anyone. If I lived near a bar like Dino’s I’d be a happy regular. The downside is that I learned from my companions is that it is not gay friendly at all, and the drinks I had were really awful (and I think it is pretty hard to mess up gin and tonic). But aside from those two things, I do love Dino’s. I kind of wish I had my camera with me– but I wouldn’t have been able to capture everything and everyone anyways.

The next morning (Sunday) I had one more meeting, and then headed out to pick up the rental car for our excursion to Red Rock Canyon. Of course I made the reservations ahead of time, and had printed directions etc.

But they didn’t have our reservation. And they only had three cars in the lot. We finally convinced the guy to let us take one that was supposed to be picked up hours earlier, but that one (an SUV) cost $70 (as opposed to the $25) we were going to pay. We got him to come down to $45 (we really worked that poor grad student thing). The extra space was great because we had a couple other people from the conference tag along.

We started out with lunch in Las Vegas’ “China Town”– hands down the best dim sum I’ve ever had. And it happened to be the Chinese New Year and the restaurant we ate at had a ceremony (like this one) to bring luck to the restaurant for the new year. It fascinating and the lunch was incredibly delicious.

And we headed out to Red Rock Canyon and stayed there until just after sunset, watching the colors change on the rocks. I was surprised at how beautiful it is– and how beautiful the desert is. I’m an Ocean Girl, so I’ve always had a hard time imagining what could be so enticing about, well, sand and no ocean.

Now I think I get it.

(more pictures here)

After sunset we headed back into the city, dropped one person off at the airport, and decided to try the Venetian for dinner. Thanks to my local tip I knew parking was free (an insane concept to any New Yorker) but it took forever for us to get a table at one of Wolfgang Puck’s restaurants. While we waited we watched tourists getting fake boat rides in fake Venice. The boat rides looked pretty lame– like getting rowed around in a glorified swimming pool in an over-the-top mall. By that time I was more than over the whole casino thing. When we finally ate, the food was insanely good (even if they tricked us into water that was $9 a bottle instead of just tap water), but the service and atmosphere was just too snooty for my taste. Give me a place like Dino’s instead any day!

We left on a 1am flight. Oh, and I finally tried gambling in the airport. I decided to gamble $5 when I saw this awesome lobster-themed slot machine. And I won $20! Not bad, eh? (although then I decided it made sense to “break even” by gambling the rest of that– see what crazy stuff Vegas makes a person do?) Here’s the flashy 5 cent slot machine I was sucked in by…

Well, that concludes my adventures in Sin City. Now back to the normal, every day world…