Party

It's sunday. Tomorrow I have to go into school and explain to my advisor why the sisyphean task of reconstructing a particular research project which should have been abandoned like a turd in a litter box will take more than "some" of my research hours. Rather than filling me with dread, which would be the reasonable response, the thought of this meeting fills me with a sense of wanting to hand out ass kickings.

I believe this is evidence I exist in a somewhat disturbed state. Fortunately, I have an appointment with my shrink scheduled for soon after the meeting. Lately, I have had more interest in my dissertation topic again. It's a nice feeling. Like rediscovering a hobby you once enjoyed. However, being on campus has been a sincere pain in my ass.

Friday was a talk by a guy who might get hired to head up the research facility I tend to get some funding through. He would also be a part time faculty member at my university, one of the shrinking pool of possible graduate advisors, and essentially a barricade to a full time faculty hire anytime soon.

Before the talk was a Q&A with grads. The guy came in 10 minutes late, apologized for being 5 minutes late, and then started lecturing us. I had dragged my ass in early to make it to this meeting for both intrinsic and extrinsic factors. I feel grads should be more involved in the big decisions - even if that involvement pragmatically translates into something barely better than token inclusion - so I would find unbearably hypocritical to not take advantage of a grad inclusive event when it is offered. My attendance was made extrinsically important by virtue of the "not involved" discussion I had with my advisor a short time ago*. (As a full professor in our field, my advisor really should understand that extrinsic motivation is arguably less stable than intrinsic. But I digress...)

The pre-packaged discussion about himself and about research at our research facility went on well past the point of a plausible introduction or innocuous preamble. Moreover, it had a sanctimonious, condescending "rah rah research!" tone and content which made it hard for me to to keep the contempt and supreme irritation from showing on my face. I tried like hell but I suspect at best I might have acheived an aspect of constipation rather than utter peevishness.

Finally, I couldn't take it. I am not so naïve as to think what I did at this point was a politically wise move. I plead the intrinsic/extrinsic conflict as well as the fact that I was up and in a good two hours earlier than my meds and intestines normally allow. I knew I would pay for my early departure for several days and I was supremely irritated at the idea of this fellow taking my and my peers' time for granted. Continuing to sit through this lecture would have meant I was complicit in reducing an opportunity for any genuine grad participation to a completely token gesture. If not attending would be hypocrisy, then this would be outright betrayal of my principles.

I don't know if I'll leave this program with a PhD. I don't know if, regardless of my degree status, I'll leave with any hope of getting the kind of job I can do or like let alone love enough to have made the sacrifices of attending grad school worth it. But I'll be damned if I leave having compromised my personal principles so much that they are reduced to a sheen of bitter, frustrated idealism. So I raised my hand and interrupted his lecture to ask "Is this meeting going to be just a lecture or will there be a chance for questions? Because I have some questions."

During one of his answers (to a question about career paths and academic employment), he actually had the nerve to say that one should go for a PhD only if one is a truth seeker. He went on, equating success in an academic career with commitment to the goal of "truth seeking". How do people say this shit with a straight face? These are the moments which make me sincerely question whether a career in academia is the right choice for me.

After the Q&A and the talk, there was dinner. Dinner was at my DH's house. It included a truly revolting looking version of the already rather disgusting "curried cauliflower" dish which I have seen now at three academic food based venues, and it was staged mostly outdoors in a yard chock full of children, ticks, chickens, and chicken poop.

I had deet to keep away the ticks, cigarettes and a bad attitude to keep away the kids, but I hadn't counted on the chickens. As I was getting out of the car and spraying myself with bug spray, the chickens came for me. Or rather they came at me. They swarmed up to the opened passenger door making curious fowl noises. I jumped back into the car, slammed the door shut with a very unseemly scream, and scrambled over to get out on the other chicken free side.

Throughout the evening, the children chased the chickens around the yard, yelling "chicken chicken chicken!". Upon capturing a slower and stupider chicken, one of these delightful children would hold the captive proudly and carry it around for a moment before dropping it and starting the entire process over again.

Their parents must be so proud.

A____, Sharon, and I stood off to the side of the house and smoked. Sharon expressed concern that we needed to find a more secluded smoking area. "Why? We're out of the way" I said. "But DH already bitched someone out once for smoking in front of his kids. He said he 'didn't want to expose them to smokers' when someone lit up at a party here." For the love of god. The first thing DH said to every guest who arrived was "beer's out here, wine's inside the house". No "you can hang your jacket/put your bag there" or "there's appetizers in the dining room" or any of the other party greetings a host normally utters as the guests arrive. Later in the evening, DH came 'round pushing booze. First was the case of beer, which he offered to A___. A___ explained he was already on his second, and DH pressed for him to take another. DH came around again with a very large bottle of wine. And finally, he walked out with a pitcher of sangria, saying "kool aid?" and holding it up suggestively. I called him a pusher but he either didn't hear me or pretended not to.

Let's get this straight. My DH doesn't want to expose his children to smokers (not smoke, mind you, but smokers) but binge drinking is a-okay!

I fucking hate these people.


* I realize I haven't blogged about that specific conversation other than to express apprehension before hand. To catch up briefly and therefore possibly ungrammatically: although over the last year I have specifically told my advisor I am uncertain of my commitment to a career in academia, although we have had several difficult and candid conversations about the several significant "why"s for my misgivings, although during those conversations she had at least seemed not to dismiss my concerns (saying instead that she thought I could and should stay in the program and finish my degree), it seems she has forgotten them all. What remains for her is an implicit feeling that I am somewhat disengaged from the program right now. Having forgotten all the conversations means she had no source for why she suspected this in light of the fact that she sees me every week working my ass off, so she misattributed her reason for thinking this to my having only attended 1/3 of an interdepartmental talk series this semester. I clarified why she felt I wasn't as "engaged" as a good grad student should be (i.e. I said "For some reason you think I'm not engaged? Maybe you think that because I told you I wasn't last year?") After this, we talked about my health, as we often do when the issue of whether or not I can afford to have a series of temporary, underpaid, under health insured jobs post degree and she said "I'm not sure you're healthy enough to even have a job at a teaching college at this point."

I've had almost a while to think about this. I guess maybe I was supposed to counter her statement with a renewed sense of commitment to my research and to attending every department-relevant event she attends (it's ok to skip the ones she skips though, presumably). Maybe I was supposed to take it as a shock-statement meant to knock me out of my poor, malingering attitude which is needlessly impeding my progress and hindering my job options. Unfortunately, when the health problems are real, frustrating, and personally quite scary at times, the statement is simply cruel.