End of the Semester - Say Hello to a Third Year

And now... the returning of the books
end of year 2.

It's official, I can call myself a third year PhD student (I think..., or do I need to wait until the fall? Heck, I'll just do it now, I'm a third year!!) I had my last class of the semester on Thursday evening. We had a potluck and gave presentations. It was a nice ending to a very difficult semester. I remember this time last year I said to myself, "All I need to do is make it until the end of February in 2016 and I'll be feeling so much better." This statement was coming from knowing that I would have completed my comps and also gotten the results and probably feeling good about my PhD life in general. Oh how wrong I was. So completely wrong.

Yes, it was a difficult semester. Most of why it was so challenging was because the reality of what I am doing finally set in. After finishing my core required courses, and saying goodbye to my frequent classes with my cohort, I was left to make my own class choices, completely. Of course, I was thankful to have all that freedom and not have to work around a required course. But it was also daunting. And I had to begin prioritizing. And then I had to have a committee meeting where I figured out what I really want to do and learn how to talk about what I want to do. And then I second guessed myself and had severe imposter syndrome. And THEN I took way too seriously everything. I over-stressed out about one paper. I know why I do this; because I really care about what I'm doing. I also have a habit of trying something new every semester and I don't usually dial things in. What can I say? I enjoy learning. This means I'm learning a new subject area each semester and trying to build up a base of knowledge while balancing feelings of both "I know so much, wow!" and "I know NOTHING." At least now it's over. I have one more edit to do on a group paper, which I'm totally not stressed out about at all. (really). And then I can watch all the Law & Order and reality cooking shows I want. Without guilt. And then make a to-do reading list for the summer. Because it never ends as a PhD student.

A Weekend of Laughter and Work

This past weekend Kevin and I went to Chicago to visit some friends. They moved to the Midwest about 3 or 4 months before we did, all of us from Seattle. And when they moved to Chicago they bought a big house, which ended up being a bigger fixer-upper than I think they intended. After many months, we finally were able to go visit and help work on some house projects with them. Although, I admit, I didn't really do much work, because my girlfriend and I spent most of our time relaxing and laughing. Having a house under big construction for a long time can take a toll, and I think both my girlfriend and I just really needed a lot of laughter, her because of the above mentioned house under construction, and me because of being whipped from my semester. I am extremely excited about their house, despite all of the time it has taken. It's going to be a wonderful home for our friends for many years to come. And this week was a big turning point for them, which Kevin and I got to witness. Drywall was delivered, and it will all go up this week. I thought two toilets makes a happy home, apparently walls do too.

Kevin and AG framing out a medicine cabinet space, Kevin and Beth working on a vanity project
which unfortunately failed. But there will be another more beautiful rehab vanity I'm sure!

The Final Stretch For Year Two

I love my 3x5 notecards for presentations

After next week is over, I can (I think) officially say I am a third year PhD student. It is the final stretch next week, although this week has been pretty unbearable. I had three presentations this week, a large paper due, and several meetings. I don't usually have any of these because I like to hide myself away from meetings and presentations. But end of semester = presentation time. Now I've just got one more big paper due and then I'm done, free from the claws of being a second year doc student!

I don't have to keep repeating that I hate presenting in front of people. But it is the life that I lead now, because being a grad student means I have to give presentations. Today, I gave one of my first presentations in a real general public forum. It was exciting, but also frightening. I was invited to give a presentation during a day long symposium, with a focus on contingent faculty. I have become somewhat known for being interested in studying this topic, and was part of a grad student panel. We were at the end of the day, after a few other guest speakers and a keynote, and thankfully it went pretty well. Although after my presentation and the dreaded Q&A, one of my professors came up to me afterward and said, "Oh, you did great, you didn't look nervous at all! Well, until you started chugging water right after you finished."

Still (Barely) Running

It has been a long winter here in Michigan. Technically, it's spring, but last weekend we got 4 inches of snow. (I bite my thumb at thee Michigan weather!) During this long slog, I went to the gym to continue my running routine. January and February were good months for this; I went three times a week and ran on a treadmill. Admittedly, running on a treadmill is not very exciting for me. I thought it would be really great, listen to some podcasts, watch some TV. But it is actually kind of awful. I run much slower on a treadmill, and get tired more quickly. I have to force myself not to stop after 2 miles out of sheer boredom. The longest I've run is 4 miles. It was painful. Then, March hit, and the weather seemed to be getting a little better, which is to say, no snow on the ground. But it was so dark and cold. I went out a few times in the coldest weather, and almost lost my nose to frostbite. Even my face mask wasn't quite enough. And I didn't go to the gym nearly as often. Lazy habits and going deeper into the semester started to set in.

Alas, I must get going again because I've signed up to do a 10k in the middle of May. It is almost exactly a month away. Can I run 6 miles right now? NO. Can I run 3-4? YES! Can I ramp it up to run 6.2 come May 16th? INDEED! Off I go!

Scenes from winter running: Heather and I running in 28 degree weather; the TREADMILL;
a mostly cloudy almost freezing run; Yaktrax in the snow run.

3,000 Words

I have one more week until a major paper is due. I call this paper "major" because 1) I've been working on it for a very long time (and I include all the thinking and drawing and drafting into my "very long time") and 2) my advisor is my professor for this class. There's something about having my advisor as my professor. I had him during my very first semester here, and I remember feeling like I had to do really good work because I wanted to make him feel okay about advising me. You know, to make sure he was confident that he wasn't going to spend the next 4-5 years advising someone who was, well, way below-average.

After having spent several hours considering how to write this paper I began writing. Weeks ago. Making my decision about how to write this paper came after writing about 1,000 words each for two other paper proposals that were shot down. As I worked on it today, I looked at my parking lot document (I keep a separate document with all the stuff I remove from my working draft just in case) and saw there were 3,000 words in there. That's how many words I've tossed. That's approximately 6 single spaced pages in Times New Roman 12pt font. I may be a bit over the top when it comes to writing. But I'm a drafter. I write draft upon draft. It's how I work through my ideas, make changes, hone my craft, and also a way for me to freak out and deal with my imposter.

Yep, 3,000 words. Tossed. All that for a 6,000 word paper.

Two Grandmas

I am blessed to be biracial. Throughout my childhood it was an identity marker that I was very proud of. As a teenager it was sometimes confusing. I learned to be more aware of my position, and my ability to pass through two worlds. As a young adult this ability became more pronounced. Now, as a bonafide adult, what I can mostly say is that sharing two ethnic and racial identities is part of how I see the world, in pairs. The reason I write about this is because I love both parts of myself, and have spent time looking up both parts of who I am. The measure of this has been made more meaningful this weekend. My grandma passed, my one remaining grandma. I had two grandmas growing up, living on opposite ends of the United States. Their characters and their personalities have been passed down to me, and I cherish their differences and their similarities. From them, I learned to be generous, and kind spirited. I learned to listen to my own spirit and my soul. I learned song and how to play the mandolin. I learned what strong-willed women look like. I learned I am Japanese. I learned I am Irish. I learned that a grandma can have long beautiful hair. I learned how to frost a cake. I learned to use chopsticks. I learned how to crochet. I learned what prayer looks like, and how different it can look from one person to another.

Thank you, my two grandmas. I love you.

My two grandmas: Annabelle Blalock, and Kikue Asato