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.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
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. :)
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