So I was at a conference this morning when my department chair (the one mentioned in a previous post) tracked me down to see if there was anything she could say to make me stay. She then offered me funding, a reversal on a stupid decision they had made regarding my master's degree, a key to the city, you know, pretty much anything I wanted if I would just STAY.
I am amused, annoyed, frustrated, pleased. I am all of those things and probably five more. Why does it take me threatening to leave for them to treat me well?
Lamesauce, that's what that is.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Milk
This week I bought milk that won't expire until after I leave Indiana. Now that's exciting.
A strange measure of time, but it works for me.
A strange measure of time, but it works for me.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
100%!!
I had my last real class for one of my classes today. I had a goal to get the professor to say, "I agree with Marin" every week and I am happy to now report that I went 14 for 14 weeks. Take that, Purdue!*
Also, I emailed one of my professors from last semester and told her I was transferring. She has been hired as the department chair. Here is her reply:
Dear Marin,
I hate to see you leave! Let me know if I can talk you out of it.
Best, Rxxxx**
Ha, nice try Rxxxx!** Too little, too late!
And finally, I posted my furniture on craigslist last night because I was worried about it selling...and now everything's gone. Fortunately, most of it is being purchased by a friend of mine in the ward and they aren't moving into their new house until the end of April, so it kind of couldn't have worked more perfectly. Unfortunately, I sold my vacuum. Oh well, nobody vacuums more than once a month, right? Right?
*For those of you questioning why this is a big deal, you're just going to have to trust me that in graduate school, especially political science graduate school, getting a professor to agree with you, especially on a controversial point, is a very large point of pride.
**Not her actual name :)
Also, I emailed one of my professors from last semester and told her I was transferring. She has been hired as the department chair. Here is her reply:
Dear Marin,
I hate to see you leave! Let me know if I can talk you out of it.
Best, Rxxxx**
Ha, nice try Rxxxx!** Too little, too late!
And finally, I posted my furniture on craigslist last night because I was worried about it selling...and now everything's gone. Fortunately, most of it is being purchased by a friend of mine in the ward and they aren't moving into their new house until the end of April, so it kind of couldn't have worked more perfectly. Unfortunately, I sold my vacuum. Oh well, nobody vacuums more than once a month, right? Right?
*For those of you questioning why this is a big deal, you're just going to have to trust me that in graduate school, especially political science graduate school, getting a professor to agree with you, especially on a controversial point, is a very large point of pride.
**Not her actual name :)
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Oh Abe
The friend I borrowed the camera from is also the friend I went to Springfield, Illinois with during spring break, so while I was uploading my apartment pictures I stole her pictures of Springfield as well. Springfield might as well be called Lincoln town. This is a statue of Mary and Abe Lincoln and one of their sons in front of his old law offices. There's another statue of another son running away across the square (that's who the little boy is waving at).
This was the Lincoln home for 8 years. Springfield has set aside four city blocks and preserved many of the homes there, so you are not just seeing the house, but what the neighborhood would have looked like. Please note the red covered wagon in front of the house (ok, that was only there because there were a bunch of workers there cutting down a diseased tree across the street. Otherwise everything was mid-1850s-ish).
This is one of the bedrooms. What really struck me is that none of the furniture seemed big enough to accommodate a man as tall as Lincoln was. How was he ever comfortable in his own home? Also, they liked crazy busy wallpaper.
This is the Lincoln tomb. It is ginormous. If you look closely you can see that the nose of that bust in front is lighter than the rest of the statue. I'm pretty sure that's from people rubbing it. Do you think they were rubbing it for luck? What sort of luck do they think Lincoln's nose brings?
This is where Lincoln is actually buried. You go into the tomb and it has a bunch of statues of Lincoln, and then finally this room. His wife and three of his sons are buried here as well.
This was the Lincoln home for 8 years. Springfield has set aside four city blocks and preserved many of the homes there, so you are not just seeing the house, but what the neighborhood would have looked like. Please note the red covered wagon in front of the house (ok, that was only there because there were a bunch of workers there cutting down a diseased tree across the street. Otherwise everything was mid-1850s-ish).
This is one of the bedrooms. What really struck me is that none of the furniture seemed big enough to accommodate a man as tall as Lincoln was. How was he ever comfortable in his own home? Also, they liked crazy busy wallpaper.
This is the Lincoln tomb. It is ginormous. If you look closely you can see that the nose of that bust in front is lighter than the rest of the statue. I'm pretty sure that's from people rubbing it. Do you think they were rubbing it for luck? What sort of luck do they think Lincoln's nose brings?
This is where Lincoln is actually buried. You go into the tomb and it has a bunch of statues of Lincoln, and then finally this room. His wife and three of his sons are buried here as well.
My apartment
Hold onto your hats, here's a third post today. Whoa.
So I realize that given my last post this is coming a little late, but I finally borrowed a camera from a friend because I am selling some of my stuff before I move, and I thought I would finally take pictures of my apartment so you could all see where I have been living for the past 9 months.
This is my kitchen with its little mini stove. It's kind of cute, right?
This is my bathroom. Ha, no just kidding, this is something even better than my bathroom. This is Abraham Lincoln's bathroom. More on that in a subsequent post.
This is my front room, with my lovely flower rug and my desk that has basically been a bookshelf because I never bothered to get a chair that was the right height to work comfortably.
And this is my front room from the front door. It looks like a nice place to live, right? If it weren't for the smell and the fairly disgusting carpet (my cool rug notwithstanding), it would be a very nice place to live. I'd want to live here. I guess it's a good thing I do.
And that's my apartment.
So I realize that given my last post this is coming a little late, but I finally borrowed a camera from a friend because I am selling some of my stuff before I move, and I thought I would finally take pictures of my apartment so you could all see where I have been living for the past 9 months.
Starting from the back of the apartment, this is my bedroom. It's functional, it's fine, it has piles of things just out of sight of the camera. And those things you are seeing on the wall above my bed are the fuse box and the air conditioner. I think they really add to the ambiance.
This is my bedroom from another angle. Mostly I just wanted to show the awesome jewelry display. It's awesome.
This is my bedroom from another angle. Mostly I just wanted to show the awesome jewelry display. It's awesome.
This is my kitchen with its little mini stove. It's kind of cute, right?
This is my bathroom. Ha, no just kidding, this is something even better than my bathroom. This is Abraham Lincoln's bathroom. More on that in a subsequent post.
This is my front room, with my lovely flower rug and my desk that has basically been a bookshelf because I never bothered to get a chair that was the right height to work comfortably.
And this is my front room from the front door. It looks like a nice place to live, right? If it weren't for the smell and the fairly disgusting carpet (my cool rug notwithstanding), it would be a very nice place to live. I'd want to live here. I guess it's a good thing I do.And that's my apartment.
Woohoo?
The culture of this department is exceptionally weird. Weird, dysfunctional, non-supportive, competitive, and just strange. Since this is a public blog, I'm not going to say much more, except to say that while I enjoy Indiana a great deal (which is a shocker) this particular department is not one in which I feel I have a place. To that end, in January I somewhat randomly and somewhat inspiredly decided to apply to transfer to the University of Utah. I figured if I was going to be going through hell I might as well be doing it closer to friends and family. Also, there are some professors at the U that are closer to what I want to study.
Long story short, I got in, got funded, and will be starting at the U this fall. It's a little random, I admit, but things fell into place so easily for me with this whole process (I called them to ask about applying 10 days after the deadline but they told me if I could get it in within the next 5 days they would consider me, then shockingly I got everything in, including letters of recommendation) that I feel really good about it.
So, here are some of thing things I will miss about Indiana:
1. My friends
2. Volleyball at my church every Tuesday night
3. ....
Yep, that's it. Indiana has no particular cuisine that I have discovered and it's reasonably pretty, but it's not gorgeous, and really, how many cornfields do you need to see in your lifetime? And where are the mountains? Purdue has a nice campus, but it's not spectacularly outstanding or anything.
Oh wait, I will also miss my adviser, Ann. As I said to her when I was telling her about transferring, the fact that she is not at the U was definitely a point against it. She has been kindness itself, and very encouraging. Also, within half an hour of my telling her I had an email waiting from her husband Jay (who is a professor in the department who I worked with last semester) telling me that I would be missed. I have to admit I was flattered at how fast she ran to tell him.
Long story short, I got in, got funded, and will be starting at the U this fall. It's a little random, I admit, but things fell into place so easily for me with this whole process (I called them to ask about applying 10 days after the deadline but they told me if I could get it in within the next 5 days they would consider me, then shockingly I got everything in, including letters of recommendation) that I feel really good about it.
So, here are some of thing things I will miss about Indiana:
1. My friends
2. Volleyball at my church every Tuesday night
3. ....
Yep, that's it. Indiana has no particular cuisine that I have discovered and it's reasonably pretty, but it's not gorgeous, and really, how many cornfields do you need to see in your lifetime? And where are the mountains? Purdue has a nice campus, but it's not spectacularly outstanding or anything.
Oh wait, I will also miss my adviser, Ann. As I said to her when I was telling her about transferring, the fact that she is not at the U was definitely a point against it. She has been kindness itself, and very encouraging. Also, within half an hour of my telling her I had an email waiting from her husband Jay (who is a professor in the department who I worked with last semester) telling me that I would be missed. I have to admit I was flattered at how fast she ran to tell him.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Vindication
One of my classes this semester is discussion-based (as I recently told one of my friends, I don't have that many tests but really every week is a test as you are forced to dissect and analyze the hundreds of pages you've read that week). I really enjoy the class, it's with my favorite professor and adviser, but somehow I keep ending up in arguments in the class, mostly with one guy. Now, I like to argue as much as the next person (possibly a little more), but I hate arguing for the sake of arguing. So, in order to put my time to better use, I made it my goal this semester to have the professor say at least once every class, "I agree with Marin." So far I am at 100%. Last week I was getting piled on yet again (I don't mean to be a lightning rod but somehow everything I say is controversial. How is that possible?) and I jokingly complained that I was going to stop talking. At that point Ann (my professor) pipes up and also starts arguing with me, but then suddenly realizes that she's actually saying what I was just arguing and says, "oh wait, I agree with Marin, stop piling on her!"
Vindication.
Vindication.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
You Know When...
You know those times when you're sitting in class and there's dead silence because it appears that no one else has read the particular article you're supposed to have read, so you eventually venture a comment that you hope is correct based on the few things the professor has said (because you had forgotten about the article until five minutes before class and so only skimmed it in the most cursory manner) and all of the sudden you've started a fierce debate about the article and people are saying, "I agree with Marin!" and you're thinking "oh boy, I wouldn't do that if I were you, I was making all of that up."?
Welcome to graduate school.
Welcome to graduate school.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Seriously lucky
I'm about to finish my first semester as a doctoral student and I fully intend to write a post about that, but in the meantime I just have to say that I have been seriously lucky with the ward I landed in. Last week I went to church after being gone for three weeks (sick, Utah, sick) and I was shocked at the number of people who came up to me, asked me where I had been, and told me they had missed me. There are just really good people here, and they have been incredibly kind to me. It's always a pleasant surprise to be in a great ward because let's face it, there are some doozies out there (yeah, that's right, I said it.).
Also, as an aside, I just read through that first paragraph and ended up removing three unnecessary commas. Tess Morris, my high school English teacher, would be so proud. Her favorite thing to write on my papers was CS! which of course stood for Comma Splice! Apparently some things never change, even as a doctoral student I am still just trying to please Mrs. Morris.
Also, as an aside, I just read through that first paragraph and ended up removing three unnecessary commas. Tess Morris, my high school English teacher, would be so proud. Her favorite thing to write on my papers was CS! which of course stood for Comma Splice! Apparently some things never change, even as a doctoral student I am still just trying to please Mrs. Morris.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
I am now ready to be advised
Because I officially have my advisers! I am very excited, kind of because I said I would ask them this week and get it taken care of but didn't really believe I would actually do it. Look at me doing stuff I say I'm going to do.
Anyway, I spoke to my major adviser on Monday and she was totally gracious about accepting and actually even seemed pleased that I had asked. She is one of my current professors (in fact earlier in this blog I said that she was scary. Obviously I take that back wholeheartedly, she's actually a lovely person (and I'm not just saying that because I've hitched my star to hers for the next 4 years)) and she studies international norms and institutions with an emphasis on the censure of states when international norms are broken. Now for those of you paying careful attention you will notice the lack of the words "war" or "peace" in there. I've shifted my thinking a bit and I am still intending to study conflict, I'm just going to approach it on a smaller, less wholly international level. It's hard to explain and I don't have time right now anyway, but I'm excited about it.
I had to email my minor adviser because he's not teaching this semester. He wrote back this morning and said he, "has no problem with being my minor adviser." I know, it doesn't sound like he's delighted beyond measure, but since he has a reputation for being somewhat irascible and I half expected him to say no, I am delighted with his response.
Anyhoo, I'm a happy camper right now and feel like I've made really good choices.
Anyway, I spoke to my major adviser on Monday and she was totally gracious about accepting and actually even seemed pleased that I had asked. She is one of my current professors (in fact earlier in this blog I said that she was scary. Obviously I take that back wholeheartedly, she's actually a lovely person (and I'm not just saying that because I've hitched my star to hers for the next 4 years)) and she studies international norms and institutions with an emphasis on the censure of states when international norms are broken. Now for those of you paying careful attention you will notice the lack of the words "war" or "peace" in there. I've shifted my thinking a bit and I am still intending to study conflict, I'm just going to approach it on a smaller, less wholly international level. It's hard to explain and I don't have time right now anyway, but I'm excited about it.
I had to email my minor adviser because he's not teaching this semester. He wrote back this morning and said he, "has no problem with being my minor adviser." I know, it doesn't sound like he's delighted beyond measure, but since he has a reputation for being somewhat irascible and I half expected him to say no, I am delighted with his response.
Anyhoo, I'm a happy camper right now and feel like I've made really good choices.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Things and stuff
I just finished reading a book that was recommended to me by one of the few people whose reading recommendations I will always take (yes, I am a snob who carefully screens recommendations). I had time to finish the book because I have a terrible cold and so stayed home from church (and they of course sustained me in my new calling the one Sunday I miss. More about that later). The book is called The Elegance of the Hedgehog and it is a beautiful book. It's French, with all of the implications that come with that, and at times it got a bit pretentious for my taste (it's the disconnect between wanting something to be popular and yet obscure at the same time). The end made me cry and was one of those books that I want to fling across the room when I finish (I don't know, there's just something satisfying about throwing a book that has made you think and feel) but of course I had to restrain myself since I was actually reading it on my Kindle (best invention and gift ever).
I haven't written much lately and of course it's because previously exotic Indiana (heh) has become normal for me and I no longer think in terms of what I can share because it's all pretty normal. Also I've been busy. School is going quite well and I'm feeling like I have more of a grasp on what I eventually want to study. I'm going to Utah for Thanksgiving at the end of this week and before I leave I have decided that I have to have talked to my prospective advisers and asked if they will advise me (Purdue requires that you have a major and two minors and you have to choose an adviser in each area). I'm not looking forward to that partially because I hate asking people for things and partially because there is no one who is a really good fit for what I want to study. For my major I have decided to go with someone I think will be a good adviser rather than a perfect fit academic-wise. Cross your fingers that she says yes.
I also now have a calling. I am the Young Women's Personal Progress leader. This makes me laugh. I think it will be pretty delightful working with the young women, but I hated Personal Progress when I was a young woman and now I will be urging others to do what I only did very reluctantly. Such is life.
The weather here has been fairly good. Early in the week it was in the 70s and then dropped down into the 30s a couple of days later and it is now in the 50s. I think the weather is why I'm sick. My body has a hard time adjusting to rapid changes in temperature.
Speaking of being sick, I am ending this now because I have been sitting up too long.
I haven't written much lately and of course it's because previously exotic Indiana (heh) has become normal for me and I no longer think in terms of what I can share because it's all pretty normal. Also I've been busy. School is going quite well and I'm feeling like I have more of a grasp on what I eventually want to study. I'm going to Utah for Thanksgiving at the end of this week and before I leave I have decided that I have to have talked to my prospective advisers and asked if they will advise me (Purdue requires that you have a major and two minors and you have to choose an adviser in each area). I'm not looking forward to that partially because I hate asking people for things and partially because there is no one who is a really good fit for what I want to study. For my major I have decided to go with someone I think will be a good adviser rather than a perfect fit academic-wise. Cross your fingers that she says yes.
I also now have a calling. I am the Young Women's Personal Progress leader. This makes me laugh. I think it will be pretty delightful working with the young women, but I hated Personal Progress when I was a young woman and now I will be urging others to do what I only did very reluctantly. Such is life.
The weather here has been fairly good. Early in the week it was in the 70s and then dropped down into the 30s a couple of days later and it is now in the 50s. I think the weather is why I'm sick. My body has a hard time adjusting to rapid changes in temperature.
Speaking of being sick, I am ending this now because I have been sitting up too long.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Perspective
Grad student after finding out the printer in the grad lab isn't working and he will have to walk 50 feet down the hall to the undergrad lab:
"It's like we're living in a third world country!"
Uhhhh....
"It's like we're living in a third world country!"
Uhhhh....
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Serious Bonus Points
Before I tell this story let me just preface it by saying that I am not in any way, shape, or form making fun of any of the people involved in this situation.
Now, let me set the scene: I very optimistically agreed to go to a stake single adult dance. I will admit that mostly it was curiosity to see what it was like. I thought I had convinced another woman in the ward to go with me but she bailed at the last minute. So I get to the church 45 minutes late (horror of horrors to actually show up on time to one of these things) and see 7 cars in the parking lot. 3 of them are minivans. My already low expectations drop dramatically. I figure I've come this far so I walk into the church and hear...nothing. No music, no talking, nothing. At this point I'm pretty sure I must have either the time or the place wrong, but again, I've come this far so I continue on. As I walk toward the gym I finally hear someone talking and I get to the door and hesitate just beyond the point when anyone can see me because this is it, once I take one more step I am committed to whatever this is for at least an hour. I stand there indecisively for at least a minute, during which time I ascertain that someone is teaching people how to do the Electric Slide (It's electric!). For some reason this makes me want to see what's actually happening, so I take that final step. And then I am looking at the most depressing vignette I have seen in quite some time. The gym is amply decorated in some sort of awful autumnal/Valentine's Day combination and there are 7 people in the middle of the gym. It turns out the DJ is the one teaching them the Electric Slide (It's electric!).* The DJ's wife is my visiting teacher (and I love and adore her, she is seriously one of my favorite people in Indiana), which is the only reason I had persevered in showing up once my other friend had bailed on me. Anyway, there are 4 women and 3 men there. The men are both in their 60's and the women range from 30 to 70. By the time all of this registers all I want to do is turn and flee, but of course I have been spotted and beckoned and there is no way for me to pretend that I have just accidentally stumbled into the wrong place and actually have a pressing appointment elsewhere.
So naturally I decide to show them all how the Electric Slide (it's electric!) is done.
Ha, no just kidding, I halfheartedly join in the dance all the while calculating exactly how long politeness dictates that I stay.
So depressing.
At least they didn't try to make me do the Boot Scootin' Boogie.
I deserve serious bonus points for going, for staying, for dancing, and for not crying my eyes out afterwards at what my sorry single life has become.**
These bonus points will come in the form of never again having to attend a singles activity.
*I understand that some people won't get this reference, just trust me, it's a terrifying reminder of my junior high days.
**Note, this does not have reference to my being a poor pitiful single person who is sorry for herself, because that is far from the case. It is the representation of what being single apparently means in the Church in Indiana.
Now, let me set the scene: I very optimistically agreed to go to a stake single adult dance. I will admit that mostly it was curiosity to see what it was like. I thought I had convinced another woman in the ward to go with me but she bailed at the last minute. So I get to the church 45 minutes late (horror of horrors to actually show up on time to one of these things) and see 7 cars in the parking lot. 3 of them are minivans. My already low expectations drop dramatically. I figure I've come this far so I walk into the church and hear...nothing. No music, no talking, nothing. At this point I'm pretty sure I must have either the time or the place wrong, but again, I've come this far so I continue on. As I walk toward the gym I finally hear someone talking and I get to the door and hesitate just beyond the point when anyone can see me because this is it, once I take one more step I am committed to whatever this is for at least an hour. I stand there indecisively for at least a minute, during which time I ascertain that someone is teaching people how to do the Electric Slide (It's electric!). For some reason this makes me want to see what's actually happening, so I take that final step. And then I am looking at the most depressing vignette I have seen in quite some time. The gym is amply decorated in some sort of awful autumnal/Valentine's Day combination and there are 7 people in the middle of the gym. It turns out the DJ is the one teaching them the Electric Slide (It's electric!).* The DJ's wife is my visiting teacher (and I love and adore her, she is seriously one of my favorite people in Indiana), which is the only reason I had persevered in showing up once my other friend had bailed on me. Anyway, there are 4 women and 3 men there. The men are both in their 60's and the women range from 30 to 70. By the time all of this registers all I want to do is turn and flee, but of course I have been spotted and beckoned and there is no way for me to pretend that I have just accidentally stumbled into the wrong place and actually have a pressing appointment elsewhere.
So naturally I decide to show them all how the Electric Slide (it's electric!) is done.
Ha, no just kidding, I halfheartedly join in the dance all the while calculating exactly how long politeness dictates that I stay.
So depressing.
At least they didn't try to make me do the Boot Scootin' Boogie.
I deserve serious bonus points for going, for staying, for dancing, and for not crying my eyes out afterwards at what my sorry single life has become.**
These bonus points will come in the form of never again having to attend a singles activity.
*I understand that some people won't get this reference, just trust me, it's a terrifying reminder of my junior high days.
**Note, this does not have reference to my being a poor pitiful single person who is sorry for herself, because that is far from the case. It is the representation of what being single apparently means in the Church in Indiana.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Drunkenness and Blessings (Drunk blessings? Wait, no...)
So yesterday in class the professor who has to be called my favorite professor since he responded to my attempts to cancel class Thanksgiving week* somehow got on the subject of drunkenness. I would tell you about the route we took to get there, but really, amongst drinkers is the subject of drunkenness ever more than one degree away? Anyway, he pointed to me and said, "Marin, you look like a big drinker, you know what it's like." To which I responded, "Uh, ok, sure" (it was said sarcastically and was therefore a refutation of his statement even though it doesn't appear so in print). Then a few minutes later he strongly implied that I was probably hungover. Now, I would be worried about this except that 1) it was clear he was kidding about my drinking habits and 2) I was sick as a dog at the time and was mostly concentrating on not throwing up so I couldn't get all that offended at someone saying I looked hungover because as I understand it being hungover mostly involves being sick as a dog and concentrating on not throwing up.
This story has a point (and a good ending!). I was sick all day yesterday and so wasn't able to get some papers done that were due today. I got up very early this morning but if anything I was even sicker. It was to the point that I couldn't actually sit up for fear that the contents of my stomach would also come up. I knew I had to get these papers done today and that I had to attend class because we would be evaluating the papers so I got down on my knees and told Heavenly Father my situation, that I had these things that had to be done and I couldn't do them in the physical condition I was in. I asked that He heal my body enough for me to accomplish what I needed to accomplish. And then I got up and felt that I should do some specific things to help myself feel better. One of them (this is one of the more awesome parts of the story) was that some Diet Coke would help settle my stomach. About fifteen minutes later I was working as though nothing had been wrong. Don't get me wrong, I still didn't feel well (I'm still a little nauseated), but my prayer was most definitely answered and my body was healed enough to accomplish everything I needed.
Wow, am I grateful for prayer today.
*Actual conversation:
Me: Are we really having class the Monday of Thanksgiving week?
Favorite Professor: Yes.
Me: Are you sure we're really having class that week?
FP: Well...
Me: Pretty please?
FP: Ok, why not. Class is cancelled the week of Thanksgiving.
(thank you, my powers of persuasion ARE awesome and apparently my puppy dog look has now been perfected).
This story has a point (and a good ending!). I was sick all day yesterday and so wasn't able to get some papers done that were due today. I got up very early this morning but if anything I was even sicker. It was to the point that I couldn't actually sit up for fear that the contents of my stomach would also come up. I knew I had to get these papers done today and that I had to attend class because we would be evaluating the papers so I got down on my knees and told Heavenly Father my situation, that I had these things that had to be done and I couldn't do them in the physical condition I was in. I asked that He heal my body enough for me to accomplish what I needed to accomplish. And then I got up and felt that I should do some specific things to help myself feel better. One of them (this is one of the more awesome parts of the story) was that some Diet Coke would help settle my stomach. About fifteen minutes later I was working as though nothing had been wrong. Don't get me wrong, I still didn't feel well (I'm still a little nauseated), but my prayer was most definitely answered and my body was healed enough to accomplish everything I needed.
Wow, am I grateful for prayer today.
*Actual conversation:
Me: Are we really having class the Monday of Thanksgiving week?
Favorite Professor: Yes.
Me: Are you sure we're really having class that week?
FP: Well...
Me: Pretty please?
FP: Ok, why not. Class is cancelled the week of Thanksgiving.
(thank you, my powers of persuasion ARE awesome and apparently my puppy dog look has now been perfected).
Monday, September 26, 2011
Maybe I can do this...Part 2
Last Thursday was a fairly spectacular day for me. Let me count the ways:
1. Purdue FINALLY got around to posting their finals schedule and it turns out that both my finals (neither of which are actually finals; one I'm administering and one is a "recap and celebration") are on the first day of finals week, which means I can get out of here earlier than anticipated. YES.
2. I got an analysis back from my 600 class and I got a 47/50, which was the highest grade in the class (by 4 points). Now, for those of you who ask why it wasn't a 50/50 (and I know you're out there), this professor does not give perfect scores, and in fact getting a score that high is something of a miracle.
3. I was giving a presentation in my International Relations class that day. Quick pause to explain about this class- it is terrifying. It's a seminar on International Relations, so we all do copious amounts of reading and then come to class and discuss it. The professor hardly participates and most often just awkwardly stares at anybody foolish enough to venture a timid remark. Let me tell you, there have been a lot of very long pauses in that class while everybody nervously avoided making eye contact with each other.
Anyway, we had to sign up to present the topic on a given day and I (somewhat foolishly) signed up for an early slot, figuring I would just get it over with. We hadn't been given a whole lot of instruction on what to do with the presentation, so I planned what I wanted to say and then went to talk to my professor about it Thursday morning. She told me I was on the right track and told me that I should be sure to emphasize some of the points in my outline because she thought they were very interesting (hallelujah!). My visit with her was great because not only did it mean that I had the right idea for my presentation and paper, but it showed me that my professor was not a terrifying monster out to eat poor young students alive. It's hard to say which one relieved me more.
3. I gave my presentation and it went very well. Not perfectly of course, but, drum roll please...my professor actually nodded and smiled several times during my presentation. Let me repeat that: MY PROFESSOR NODDED AND SMILED. It was a minor miracle.
Maybe I can do this. I wish I wanted to.
1. Purdue FINALLY got around to posting their finals schedule and it turns out that both my finals (neither of which are actually finals; one I'm administering and one is a "recap and celebration") are on the first day of finals week, which means I can get out of here earlier than anticipated. YES.
2. I got an analysis back from my 600 class and I got a 47/50, which was the highest grade in the class (by 4 points). Now, for those of you who ask why it wasn't a 50/50 (and I know you're out there), this professor does not give perfect scores, and in fact getting a score that high is something of a miracle.
3. I was giving a presentation in my International Relations class that day. Quick pause to explain about this class- it is terrifying. It's a seminar on International Relations, so we all do copious amounts of reading and then come to class and discuss it. The professor hardly participates and most often just awkwardly stares at anybody foolish enough to venture a timid remark. Let me tell you, there have been a lot of very long pauses in that class while everybody nervously avoided making eye contact with each other.
Anyway, we had to sign up to present the topic on a given day and I (somewhat foolishly) signed up for an early slot, figuring I would just get it over with. We hadn't been given a whole lot of instruction on what to do with the presentation, so I planned what I wanted to say and then went to talk to my professor about it Thursday morning. She told me I was on the right track and told me that I should be sure to emphasize some of the points in my outline because she thought they were very interesting (hallelujah!). My visit with her was great because not only did it mean that I had the right idea for my presentation and paper, but it showed me that my professor was not a terrifying monster out to eat poor young students alive. It's hard to say which one relieved me more.
3. I gave my presentation and it went very well. Not perfectly of course, but, drum roll please...my professor actually nodded and smiled several times during my presentation. Let me repeat that: MY PROFESSOR NODDED AND SMILED. It was a minor miracle.
Maybe I can do this. I wish I wanted to.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Some might think it's ridiculous to be five weeks into my PhD and still be unsure what it is I am going to study. On the other hand, some might think it ridiculous that they expect me to know what I'm going to study only five weeks into my program. It's like they think I should have made that decision by the time I got to this level.
More fool them.
I bring this up because a couple of weeks ago I went to a lecture by Nicholas Kristof (I went with the stake president's wife, because apparently that's the kind of exalted company I roll with now). For those of you not slavishly reading the New York Times, Nicholas Kristof is an Op-Ed columnist who writes on women in the developing world. His lecture reminded me of why I wanted to go into development work in the first place, which was good, but it also made me question what I'm doing here. I can steer all of my research towards development and all that, but I want to be a practitioner not a researcher. On Saturday somebody asked me how I was liking my program and I told them that I could take it or leave it. And that's the truth. I've been in class for five weeks and it still feels like not a thing has happened that would make me at all sad to get up and walk away from this, and in fact, that's still my preference. Don't get me wrong, I'm not miserable all of the time and for the most part I am succeeding (more about that in the next post), but I just don't care about any of it, and shouldn't I care about what I'm committing my life to for the next five years? The circumstances of my getting here are sufficiently miraculous that I'm not questioning that I needed to come here, but I wish I knew why. Or liked it better. Or cared more.
I would take any of those.
As my dad says, I would complain if I was hung with a new rope. :)
More fool them.
I bring this up because a couple of weeks ago I went to a lecture by Nicholas Kristof (I went with the stake president's wife, because apparently that's the kind of exalted company I roll with now). For those of you not slavishly reading the New York Times, Nicholas Kristof is an Op-Ed columnist who writes on women in the developing world. His lecture reminded me of why I wanted to go into development work in the first place, which was good, but it also made me question what I'm doing here. I can steer all of my research towards development and all that, but I want to be a practitioner not a researcher. On Saturday somebody asked me how I was liking my program and I told them that I could take it or leave it. And that's the truth. I've been in class for five weeks and it still feels like not a thing has happened that would make me at all sad to get up and walk away from this, and in fact, that's still my preference. Don't get me wrong, I'm not miserable all of the time and for the most part I am succeeding (more about that in the next post), but I just don't care about any of it, and shouldn't I care about what I'm committing my life to for the next five years? The circumstances of my getting here are sufficiently miraculous that I'm not questioning that I needed to come here, but I wish I knew why. Or liked it better. Or cared more.
I would take any of those.
As my dad says, I would complain if I was hung with a new rope. :)
Surprising Things You Can Live Without
I am a poor graduate student. This does not of course mean that I am entirely without funds, but it does mean that some caution is required before spending money. I of course had to spend a large chunk of money moving out here and then moving into my apartment, so basically if it wasn't purchased in the first two weeks I was here when it still felt like I had money, I haven't purchased it. The following is a list of things that seem fairly needed but aren't strictly necessary:
Knives- my ending up without knives was an accident. I thought they were in the kitchen box I had packed at the beginning of the summer and I got here and it turns out they were nowhere to be found. I have wanted knives a couple of times, but I've never not eaten because of a lack of knives. Potatoes are a pain, but if you bake them first you can get away with using a butter knife. Chicken can be cut with the handy pair of kitchen scissors I have that currently constitute the sharpest thing I have in the kitchen. Most vegetables can be torn (lettuce) or come pre-cut (baby carrots) and fruit can always be eaten whole.
A Microwave- Ok, I confess to missing this one more than the knives and it is on my list of things to purchase once I get a whole paycheck, but an oven and stove, though not the most convenient, do work. You just have to remember not to purchase things (like individual mac and cheese) at the store that can only be cooked in the microwave.
Bookshelves- Also on my to purchase list, but for now I am not too good to just stack my books on any available horizontal surface. My bed, my dresser, the kitchen counter, three-quarters of the couch. You know, whatever's available.
Knives- my ending up without knives was an accident. I thought they were in the kitchen box I had packed at the beginning of the summer and I got here and it turns out they were nowhere to be found. I have wanted knives a couple of times, but I've never not eaten because of a lack of knives. Potatoes are a pain, but if you bake them first you can get away with using a butter knife. Chicken can be cut with the handy pair of kitchen scissors I have that currently constitute the sharpest thing I have in the kitchen. Most vegetables can be torn (lettuce) or come pre-cut (baby carrots) and fruit can always be eaten whole.
A Microwave- Ok, I confess to missing this one more than the knives and it is on my list of things to purchase once I get a whole paycheck, but an oven and stove, though not the most convenient, do work. You just have to remember not to purchase things (like individual mac and cheese) at the store that can only be cooked in the microwave.
Bookshelves- Also on my to purchase list, but for now I am not too good to just stack my books on any available horizontal surface. My bed, my dresser, the kitchen counter, three-quarters of the couch. You know, whatever's available.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Comfort to my soul
I don't intend this blog to be anything much but a journal and a way to keep people up to date with my happenings, but I had a meal yesterday that is one of my favorites and so I am going to post the very precise recipe. This was originally made for me by my sister-in-law who is a wonderful cook. It has stood me in good stead for many years.
Are you ready? This is comfort food to me and it's very difficult to make:
Black Beans and Ham over Rice
If you happen to have garlic or an onion cook those in a little bit of olive oil. If not, hey, that's what they invented garlic and onion powder for.
Open a can of black beans, dump them in a large frying pan
Add some cubed ham
Now this is the most important part, this is the ingredient that makes the dish:
Add some Italian seasoning. Add it until when you stir it in you can still smell it (that's right, I measure by smell. As my sister-in-law says, my sense of smell is freakish. I also make meatloaf by smell, but that's another recipe for another time)
Simmer for...as long as you want. I just simmer it until the rice is done
Oh yeah, cook some rice. This is the one recipe where I am always ok with using brown rice. Cause I'm healthy like that.
Pour the black beans and ham over the rice.
Enjoy and feel the inexpressible comfort of a lovely, fast meal that will satisfy every time.
Aaaaaaahhhhhh. Life is good.
Are you ready? This is comfort food to me and it's very difficult to make:
Black Beans and Ham over Rice
If you happen to have garlic or an onion cook those in a little bit of olive oil. If not, hey, that's what they invented garlic and onion powder for.
Open a can of black beans, dump them in a large frying pan
Add some cubed ham
Now this is the most important part, this is the ingredient that makes the dish:
Add some Italian seasoning. Add it until when you stir it in you can still smell it (that's right, I measure by smell. As my sister-in-law says, my sense of smell is freakish. I also make meatloaf by smell, but that's another recipe for another time)
Simmer for...as long as you want. I just simmer it until the rice is done
Oh yeah, cook some rice. This is the one recipe where I am always ok with using brown rice. Cause I'm healthy like that.
Pour the black beans and ham over the rice.
Enjoy and feel the inexpressible comfort of a lovely, fast meal that will satisfy every time.
Aaaaaaahhhhhh. Life is good.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Maybe I can do this...but don't quote me on that
After a weekend spent worrying that I was going to fail and should maybe just reject Purdue before they reject me (weekends are not my best time), I had two rather awesome affirmations that I was doing ok today. Now, I will be the first to admit that both of these might come from a perception of me rather than the actual me, but I will take them anyway:
1. I went to see a professor to discuss several things and after talking over some issues and questions she told me that it was clear that I knew what I was doing. Uh…ok, I’m glad it’s “clear” to someone (I did not of course say that, though my look of blank astonishment might have given me away).
2. In class another professor was discussing some sociological experiment and turns to me and says, “Well of course you’ve heard of it, Marin.” Now, as I see it you have several options at this point:
a. Lie and pretend that of course you’ve heard of it because that’s what he expects
b. Tell him no, you have no earthly idea what he’s talking about and he could possibly be smoking something
c. Flee in panic
I’ll tell you what I did. The experiment sounded vaguely familiar to me so I might have fibbed a tiny bit by nodding more knowingly than was warranted given my actual knowledge of what he was talking about. But the real point is, why would I “of course” have heard about it? I think I hide confusion (and ignorance) well and so it often appears that I know more than I do. Or maybe he was just referring to my obvious intelligence (heh). Or maybe I should stop parsing it and take it for the compliment I think it was meant to be.
Lest you be overly impressed by his good opinion of me, earlier in the class he called me Meredith. That wasn’t the best moment of the day.
Still, you take what you can get.
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