People ask me about what my research is all the time, so here you go.
Holy god, I was truly the slackeriest of slacker grad students. I was talking about this to my fellow cohort (came in the same year as me) student-love Tiara, and seriously:
1) I think I finished my reading, in its entirety, for one of my classes maybe twice. Maybe.
2) I did projects at the literal last minute and usually with help.
3) Following on that, I did a project that was supposed to take me an entire semester in one night. You are not supposed to be able to do that in grad school. I went to that class every week having heart palpitations and pulling shit out of my ass for "project updates". I got a B. Heavens prevail.
4) Whenever I was supposed to be studying, I was usually asleep. I decided to deal with stress by becoming a creature that hibernated. Constantly. Then got out of bed at 6pm to go out with my friends. That's healthy.
Granted my grad school experience was peppered with such exciting events as nannying a toddler, multiple self-injuries (fractured finger, two sprained ankles- the same ankle twice, fractured wrist), and unfortunate loss of two family members and a friend. In addition to other, massive emotional trauma.
Just typing that sentence kindof makes me want to take a nap right now, actually.
I'm beginning to think that's the damn point of continued higher education though- all your professors had to go through this bullshit stage of feeling inadequate and wondering WHY in the name of the sweet tiny infant lord baby Jesus someone in the department was out of their fool mind enough to let you in- so then you have to rinse and repeat the cycle. Academia, thou art a moste foul beast.
Pretty much by the time you get the hang of it you're either finished or starting on your PhD which I'm sure is a whole new world of hurt. One that I am avoiding like a flaming grizzly bear. (That is definitely something you would avoid.) Most of the time I chose to have a life and tried to smother the panicked feelings that I should be doing work all the time and I'm glad I made that decision. When I'm 80 I don't think I'm going to look back on my life and think, "Man, wish I'd spent more time in the library reading that Quantitative Analysis book."
Ah, well. Light, tunnel and all that shit.
First I just get to suffer through untold hours of fieldwork! I forgot how incredibly tedious this whole process is. At least I chose an amazingly entertaining place to conduct said fieldwork- I get to watch awesome improv and sketch shows and rehearsals and classes- doesn't sound too bad, right? It is pretty sweet. Only I have to be studiously observing everything the whole time, worrying I might be missing some important detail while trying not to be too obtrusively scribbling in my notebook and then go home and flesh out those notes into roughly ten pages for every hour of observation. Single spaced.
My life is so hard.
At least I am already getting some good material and feel like I'm headed down the right track, the one of my research proposal. That's the downside to this kind of research- it's a lot more complicated, richer and fun, but you can also sit there with mounds of data going OH MY GOD I HAVE NO RESULTS NOTHING JUST FUCKING MOUNDS AND MOUNDS OF DATA and then you might start hyperventilating or pass out or cry or know that soon you will be shot by your parents who have many guns because you might have to stay in grad school for another semester. THE HORROR.
Of course I could also be speaking too soon and damning myself to all of qualitative research hell for eternity. We'll see. There are still many weeks and hours of fieldwork and interviews and data compilation to go. Excitement!
I'll try to squeeze a little fun and sexy adventure in there along the way so you guys don't have to keep reading about moving boxes, cats eating my face off or the number of hours I spend sitting in front of my computer screaming at NVIVO or staring at single-spaced Word documents.
I am so going to need more beer.
Love from a Sarah
1) I think I finished my reading, in its entirety, for one of my classes maybe twice. Maybe.
2) I did projects at the literal last minute and usually with help.
3) Following on that, I did a project that was supposed to take me an entire semester in one night. You are not supposed to be able to do that in grad school. I went to that class every week having heart palpitations and pulling shit out of my ass for "project updates". I got a B. Heavens prevail.
4) Whenever I was supposed to be studying, I was usually asleep. I decided to deal with stress by becoming a creature that hibernated. Constantly. Then got out of bed at 6pm to go out with my friends. That's healthy.
Granted my grad school experience was peppered with such exciting events as nannying a toddler, multiple self-injuries (fractured finger, two sprained ankles- the same ankle twice, fractured wrist), and unfortunate loss of two family members and a friend. In addition to other, massive emotional trauma.
Just typing that sentence kindof makes me want to take a nap right now, actually.
I'm beginning to think that's the damn point of continued higher education though- all your professors had to go through this bullshit stage of feeling inadequate and wondering WHY in the name of the sweet tiny infant lord baby Jesus someone in the department was out of their fool mind enough to let you in- so then you have to rinse and repeat the cycle. Academia, thou art a moste foul beast.
Pretty much by the time you get the hang of it you're either finished or starting on your PhD which I'm sure is a whole new world of hurt. One that I am avoiding like a flaming grizzly bear. (That is definitely something you would avoid.) Most of the time I chose to have a life and tried to smother the panicked feelings that I should be doing work all the time and I'm glad I made that decision. When I'm 80 I don't think I'm going to look back on my life and think, "Man, wish I'd spent more time in the library reading that Quantitative Analysis book."
Ah, well. Light, tunnel and all that shit.
First I just get to suffer through untold hours of fieldwork! I forgot how incredibly tedious this whole process is. At least I chose an amazingly entertaining place to conduct said fieldwork- I get to watch awesome improv and sketch shows and rehearsals and classes- doesn't sound too bad, right? It is pretty sweet. Only I have to be studiously observing everything the whole time, worrying I might be missing some important detail while trying not to be too obtrusively scribbling in my notebook and then go home and flesh out those notes into roughly ten pages for every hour of observation. Single spaced.
My life is so hard.
At least I am already getting some good material and feel like I'm headed down the right track, the one of my research proposal. That's the downside to this kind of research- it's a lot more complicated, richer and fun, but you can also sit there with mounds of data going OH MY GOD I HAVE NO RESULTS NOTHING JUST FUCKING MOUNDS AND MOUNDS OF DATA and then you might start hyperventilating or pass out or cry or know that soon you will be shot by your parents who have many guns because you might have to stay in grad school for another semester. THE HORROR.
Of course I could also be speaking too soon and damning myself to all of qualitative research hell for eternity. We'll see. There are still many weeks and hours of fieldwork and interviews and data compilation to go. Excitement!
I'll try to squeeze a little fun and sexy adventure in there along the way so you guys don't have to keep reading about moving boxes, cats eating my face off or the number of hours I spend sitting in front of my computer screaming at NVIVO or staring at single-spaced Word documents.
I am so going to need more beer.
Love from a Sarah