Strange Feelings
I've been feeling a bit strange as of late. Content. Calm. Resolved. Determined. Happy.
I am the poorest I've been in.... 8 months? Since Shaun and I broke up -- since I've taken on the burden of paying to live in a house that's much too big for me. The house, taxes, a not-so-well-thought-out loan, and a few unforeseen expenses have put a crunch in my coffers. I've splurged on travel. Does this bother me? Shockingly, no. I can prostitute my body to science to make some extra cash......and I'm not shy about doing temp labor, once the grad school funding ends. I have friends who are fighting each other to take me in during a potential extended job search. I have friends who love me, who encourage me, who will support me when I need help. I feel loved. And I'm not afraid to be more poor than I am now (though I will attempt to avoid being homeless-style poor).
I'm not afraid of my job search. If I need to, I'll crawl back to academia to do a post doc. But I don't think this will happen.
Sometimes I wonder why I chose to pursue a career in science. I think my persuit of science stems from i) a naieve sense of curiosity about nature, about bacteria, about understanding how life works, and ii) a desire to solve practical problems (design vaccines, diagnostic tests, desire to control bacterial infections, to manipulate life and use bacteria for good). Still, all of this requires a lot of effort. I would be just as happy working in a flower shop, working in a bakery, or working on a farm. I would be happy living on a low salary, if my basic life needs were being met. It doesn't take much for me to live. I don't *need* to have a career in science to be happy. I don't *need* to make a lot of money to be happy.
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I am writing my dissertation. I thought this would scare the crap out of me. It doesn't. I'm just writing about what I've done in the lab for the past six years. I think I've got that figured out, shockingly. It's a lot easier than I thought it would be. I just need to do it. I just need to stick with it. Persistance equals pages. Much of my writing has a very "matter of fact" feel to it. It feels good to set it to page. Each sentence has a sense of finality to it. It's one less sentence that needs to be extracted - developed - expressed. I want to tell people what I'm writing -- how much I've accomplished. I want to torture my friends with page by page details. I know people will not care much about this work, but I did it, and I'll set it to page.
By Wednesday of next week, I will have written about all of the contingency loci ........ there is just a teensy bit more sequence to generate / identify........ which I will pursue starting on Monday.
Two of my committee members will hardly read the dissertation (the two Department chairs). The other two will definitely read it, and give feedback. Mick will be displeased with it, but that is the nature of the beast. I've given him six years of disappointment, and I am comfortable with what his response will be. It is predictable, and I appreciate that. This doesn't bother me. I'm not writing my dissertation for them. I'm writing it for me. I trhink I can finish it before May.
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The much-raved-about hot and sour soup from Chinese Wok Express off Broadway ....... tastes like butt. Don't eat it. Don't go there. Yuck!
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I have bruises on my body in unexpected places. I have one on my shin from running into Attila's free weights. There is a beautiful one on my right hand. Another is on my back of my left calf. I wonder how I got them.