grad school
Warning: emo post ahead.
There are days when I hate grad school.
There are days when I hate that it's assumed that i want to be my boss, assumed that I want to be a big shot research professor. And the accompanying assumption that I'm willing to work as many hours as he wants me to because this is all that matters to me. And the one on top of that that says I shouldn't want to teach. And shouldn't work hard at teaching. And shouldn't let teaching get in the way of my research.
There are days when I hate that to make it to what I want to do, I have to sacrifice what I want to do.
See, I love to teach. I really do. And grad school is starting to make me really not like research chemistry. So all I want to do is teach. But to get there, to survive 'til graduation, I need to research. And to get out faster, so that I can teach sooner, I need to work more. Which means teaching less while I'm here.
I hate SoCal. I don't want to be here a minute longer than I have to. But I hate that that means I find myself sacrificing teaching quarters for the sake of getting out sooner.
Oi.
But that's mostly a post-emotion rant. I'm over the actual spaz, thanks to Teresa Strasser. (http://teresastrasser.com/blog/) For some reason, her post about breaking down in Vegas made me feel a lot better. Mostly it's the last bit, where she calms down.
But yes.
I'm going to say it here, and stop denying it. It's easier to view these things as passing things than to struggle to accept them. I hate SoCal. I hate the climate, and the desert, and the traffic, and the palm trees. I also hate working for my boss. He's a wonderful guy, but I find him very hard to work for. I hate these things. But they are passing things. In three years I'll be packing my bags and getting out of here for some new (more northern) adventure. I'm rapidly approaching half way, and my coping strategies are getting more finely honed, so I'm well on my way. This place sucks for me, in very many ways, but they will pass. What will stay is what I'm learning and the wonderful people I'm meeting. None of the rest of it matters.
Someone smack me once a week and remind me of this. Not Megan though - she hits hard.
There are days when I hate grad school.
There are days when I hate that it's assumed that i want to be my boss, assumed that I want to be a big shot research professor. And the accompanying assumption that I'm willing to work as many hours as he wants me to because this is all that matters to me. And the one on top of that that says I shouldn't want to teach. And shouldn't work hard at teaching. And shouldn't let teaching get in the way of my research.
There are days when I hate that to make it to what I want to do, I have to sacrifice what I want to do.
See, I love to teach. I really do. And grad school is starting to make me really not like research chemistry. So all I want to do is teach. But to get there, to survive 'til graduation, I need to research. And to get out faster, so that I can teach sooner, I need to work more. Which means teaching less while I'm here.
I hate SoCal. I don't want to be here a minute longer than I have to. But I hate that that means I find myself sacrificing teaching quarters for the sake of getting out sooner.
Oi.
But that's mostly a post-emotion rant. I'm over the actual spaz, thanks to Teresa Strasser. (http://teresastrasser.com/blog/) For some reason, her post about breaking down in Vegas made me feel a lot better. Mostly it's the last bit, where she calms down.
But yes.
I'm going to say it here, and stop denying it. It's easier to view these things as passing things than to struggle to accept them. I hate SoCal. I hate the climate, and the desert, and the traffic, and the palm trees. I also hate working for my boss. He's a wonderful guy, but I find him very hard to work for. I hate these things. But they are passing things. In three years I'll be packing my bags and getting out of here for some new (more northern) adventure. I'm rapidly approaching half way, and my coping strategies are getting more finely honed, so I'm well on my way. This place sucks for me, in very many ways, but they will pass. What will stay is what I'm learning and the wonderful people I'm meeting. None of the rest of it matters.
Someone smack me once a week and remind me of this. Not Megan though - she hits hard.