Rambling...

I suppose now is as good a time as any to use the blog for its intended purpose - namely the relieving of Writer's Block and/or acute frustration at having to do something I really don't want to do (in this case, craft several annotated bibliographies for my Comprehensive reading list and examination). I am currently in the process of writing about anthropogenic (human induced) climate change and providing rationalization for the necessity of the study of climate mitigation as it relates to social and environmental injustice. These are the moments when I sit here working away (albeit slowly) at things and I think to myself.... Good Lord...what the hell has life become?

I have been looking at Facebook updates and status changes lately, reading about the various ways in which people's lives have changed in the years following high school. I am (at twenty-seven) finally at that age where marriage seems to be en vogue and, for those who married earlier, so too are the first round of births. While children and parenthood have never piqued my interest (as a thing to pursue myself), as an avid reader of romance novels I must admit to liking the idea of weddings (weddings, not necessarily marriage) and engagements. Having been with my bf for just short of a decade, however, marriage still seems like a different life. Somebody else's life. Either way, that issue is moot.

What I really cannot help but marvel (and cry a little) at is how little my life has really changed in the past decade. Sure I've moved a little, but really only to the other side of a city. I have the same relationship I did when I left high school. I attend the same university I entered when I was nineteen. Sure I have two degrees under my belt and I am currently in pursuit of a third, but what does that mean, really, if I haven't used them to procure a "real job"?

Part of my problem is the fact that I am slow to change, slow to adopt change, and have difficulty embracing any form of difference, no matter how small. For better or worse this has kept me in a static state (academically, romantically, geographically etc.) For my fear and caution I have a decent sized bank account to show and I live under pretty great circumstances, especially for a student... But I can't help but wondering at the point of it all.

When I think about what I expected of my life and for myself, I realize that it was never this. I wanted to be successful, but never expected to be hindered by a wallflower personality that has difficulty interacting with others (to the extent that fear becomes a crippling emotion). I assumed that by twenty-five I would have bought my own condo in our bustling downtown metropolis, man or no man. In fact, I assumed no man because I figured I would have been loving the single life far too much to settle for anything that didn't sweep me off my feet. (In fairness to my bf, he is a great guy, but he really was supposed to be a fling...and so was I.) :P

After twenty-five I expected to spend years traveling, fulfilling one of my greatest passions globe-trotting and seeing the things that other people only dreamed about from behind their picket fences, between soccer games and PTA meetings and two-point-four kids. But reality hasn't lived up to that.

I bear my own shackles, the tightest of which is a PhD dissertation that, after a year of coursework, is only just beginning to get off the ground. Traveling comes far too infrequently in pursuit of such a goal as many students living on a student stipend would be only too quick to point out. Washington was amazing for precisely the reason that it was something different... unfortunately these experiences are far too fleeting in my life.

I love the fact that I am doing the work that I am doing... It's important, valuable and necessary work... But I hate the fact that it isn't life, nor should it be.

Most people (parents, professors etc.) have told me to have patience - that the future will come when it's supposed to and that all the things I want will happen in due course. Maybe they're right, maybe not. I don't know anymore. Perhaps that's why the dissertation is the toll on the soul that it happens to be...because it is a constant reminder of what isn't.

I have half a mind to spend a handful of my savings on a dream of a lifetime trip to the Galapagos and to say "to hell with it all...Life Happens".

But that isn't me.

And what IS me is sad.

Pic of the Day...

Just finished grading a pile of assignments....now I have a pile of final exams to grade.  yay! :P

Got some really lovely feedback from some of my students this term. Kinda makes the experience worth it on the days grad school makes me want to tear my hair out.

More on tonight's exam invigilation later.

A not-so-vacation...

I am super excited to be heading to DC in a just about a month or so for a week long adventure.

Well, excited and nervous. I'm taking part in a conference for a few days so the idea of participating (public speaking) has me a little jittery. Luckily my presentation happens pretty early on in the schedule so I've got lots of time to venture out and about and see the sites.

My friend Dave is coming with me and he's taking off for parts unknown to do fieldwork right after so it'll be our last chance to spend some time together before he sets off for four months or so. (As a dirty American -haha- he's familiar with DC so hopefully he'll be up for some adventuring.)

Still muttering...

Stupid course... you make me sick.

I've only wanted to take you for the past three years.

(The professor terrifies me.)

Nice prof, mind you... it's just me and I can't get over it.

Fear...

For those of you who know me, this won't come as any big surprise: I am petrified of pretty much everything in life. Most people don't believe me when I say this, but it's true - I am.

A few months ago I submitted an abstract for an as of yet unwritten paper to be considered for a conference presentation and was accepted to be part of a panel. Because of said abstract I was also asked to participate in a separate discussion group. Great for getting my ideas out there and also good for networking purposes. All good things that will supposedly aid in the advancement of my academic career except for one little hitch:

I haven't been able to sleep properly since the acceptance.

In October.

I've been told that most (if not all) academics endure this cyclical feeling of unease, anxiety and frustration and many feel at times as though they don't belong. I've also heard that academics tend to feel isolated in this regard but that "everyone feels that way" and that we "aren't alone".

None of that is reassuring.

The fact of the matter is I've been having nightmares for months. I can't sleep unless I tire myself to the point of exhaustion (sometimes not even then) and on many nights sleep comes in fits and starts. It's a depressing, exhausting and counterproductive sleep. On top of that, I'm usually so distracted when I am awake I can barely concentrate on the most trivial of tasks (including watching a half an hour sitcom).

My feelings of inadequacy have been amplified by a particular class that I simply cannot relax in. In the past few weeks I've been troubled by the fact that I cannot participate in class discussions or engage with my peers in the classroom. I'm petrified of saying anything, petrified of writing responses (which we do every week and submit via email) and petrified of almost everything associated with this particular course. In short, the class makes me miserable.

A couple of weeks ago I did what I consider to be the most unthinkable thing of my academic career. After almost a decade of post-secondary school, I skipped my first class. Why? Because I had what I can only assume was a panic attack and was in tears on multiple occasions over the span of several hours. All because the prof asked our class to do one little thing. It wasn't grueling or demanding; he just told us to speak frankly about something (anything) for ten minutes or so...

Only the thought of that made me sick.

Now I have to admit that I've always been pretty petrified of performing in school (or anywhere, for that matter), and I usually try to soothe the anxieties of my own students who exhibit similar fears. I've been told by countless professors that I have nothing to worry about and my current supervisor has gotten to a point where he says I simply have to get over it... but over it, I simply am not.

And this particular class is driving home the point that I really should just quit now and go hide in a hole.

Things that made me smile...

Following the midterm some hours later, I had to teach later this afternoon. I was pretty sympathetic toward my students and the fact that midterm season is never pleasant so I showed up to class to have a very relaxed discussion. My students are really wonderful, funny people and I have to admit that I love this particular section to bits, for reasons that should become apparent below.

Admittedly, I'm pretty relaxed when I lead my classes. I expect a lot out of my students (and I'm told by my colleagues that I'm pretty strict), but I try to encourage this without being tyrannical. One of my students told me I should be mean - that I should yell and encourage them to fear me. One said they'd never had a class where people were so free to express opinions without fear of being judged. (I was really surprised by that!) Another suggested that I should grade assignments while drunk. (haha) I've had students in past years hug me after exams and ask to Facebook friend me so I'm guessing I can't be all that bad. Hopefully they learned something along the way, too.

While chatting today my students asked who would be responsible for grading the midterm. I told them there was a possibility that another TA would have their midterm because of the way exams were distributed and that I only had some that belonged to our group. One of my students then proceeded to ask me (jokingly) "But what if we wrote a note on it just for you?!"

To which I replied (without thinking): "What if you wrote me a note? When you get your exams back the only thing you'll see on it is a set of numbers" (indicating, of course, their grade).

Which led someone else in the class to ask: "What sort of numbers?"

(There were a number of ways I could have responded to that but I thought on the off chance that someone didn't find this exchange funny, I could've been hauled off with a report... so I kept my comments to myself.) :P

Maybe it's wrong of me to encourage my class to feel free enough to joke around, but the way I figure it, we're all human and I'm not that much older than my students. I can't stand the idea of erecting fictitious barriers in order to enhance my importance.

My class makes me smile.

White Out

It is snowing but good outside right now. Not exactly white out conditions but pretty darn close. I have to invigilate a mid-term tomorrow morning and I have to admit I probably want a Snow Day more than my students do. I hate, hate, HATE commuting in this weather. Nothing puts me in a bad mood more than being damp and cold. Except, perhaps, getting up at some ungodly hour to sit in transit for at least an hour and a half - one way.

Off the bookshelf, onto the table

I am currently reading William Cronon's Nature's Metropolis: Chicago and the Great West.  It should come of little surprise to find that this is not something I'd willingly select for "light" reading and is in fact yet another book I have to read for school.  School is a lot of that, I've realized:  Books that you wouldn't otherwise read.  Of course, I'm not really complaining. I think everyone should read Polanyi's The Great Transformation at least once in their life (and as I've encountered it at least twice now, I'm fairly certain it will end up having at least a marginal effect on my eventual dissertation).  I also thoroughly enjoyed E.P. Thompson's Whigs and Hunters (though if ever there was evidence for not judging a book by its cover, W & H would be it).

For the time being I, along with several other classmates, am still trying to figure out how this all fits together under the banner of contemporary political ecology. Cronon's book (at least in my mind) is a little more self-evident. A surface reading of Thompson suggests a discussion of enclosure and property rights violations in mid-18th century England. Valid, certainly, but more useful for a historian (or an historical geographer) from my reading.

My bf once marveled at the fact that I never read. In response I pointed to my computer and the inordinate amount of time I spend online (every day of my life) for both business and pleasure.  I also pointed to the stack of books, papers, journal articles (not to mention student essays) that social scientists routinely encounter. At the end of the day I hardly have energy for more than that. It's a little sad, to be honest. There's a lot of classic literature I've never taken the time to appreciate. There are a number of books on philosophy, mythology, history etc. that are looking a little lonesome on my bookshelf and I'm more than a little ashamed to admit that my knowledge of them is procured from three line answers on Jeopardy. 

I'm hoping (one day) to get to these great works of literature but they're like so many other good things I put off in life.  Perhaps the closed structure of academia isn't such a bad thing for me after all.