Monday, March 31, 2008
Department of Uncreativity
Two years ago, I received an interdepartmental email wishing my current thesis adviser well as she was about to embark on a year's leave. This was the first I had heard of her departure, and I was shocked. Neither she nor anyone else had ever mentioned to me that she'd be leaving. In the weeks that followed, she became increasingly difficult to get a hold of, as she repeatedly left the city to and went through an inter-provincial move. I would give her material, and it would take weeks for her to get back to me. It soon became clear that defending on time was going to be impossible. She agreed. I had applied to the PhD program, and when I got in with a very generous package, I applied for a one-year deferral.
My deferral was denied. The official reason I got for this denial was that I was in my second year, that i had completed all of the other requirements for my degree and the committee saw no reason that I should not be able to complete my thesis on time. I looked in to other options (switching advisers, etc.) but nothing would actually solve the problem. When my adviser left, and I had no choice but to turn down my offer of acceptance.
One of the committee members tried to reassure me by saying that when I did reapply, I'd have an even stronger application and was certain to get it.
Somewhere along the line, I started thinking in terms of "when" rather than "if" in regards to my PhD applications. So three weeks ago, when I found out that I was on the waiting list for the U of C, it was a blow. My application was much stronger than it had been two years ago, when I was not only accepted but offered a very generous four-year funding package. When I turned that acceptance and package down, I consoled myself with the knowledge that I would only be a stronger applicant the next time around. And I was: I had a book out, additional publications, a degree in hand. Being told I was not chosen in the first round was difficult, but far from a defeat.
When I got that news, I called University B. the U of C and University B were the only two schools I'd applied to because that was where I wanted to go. I would happily live in either city, be a part of either academic and literary community, and either place worked for Ed. At first, I was cagey. I said that I'd started to hear back from other schools, and wanted to know when I might hear back. I was then told that while the selection process was still underway, it did not look like I'd be receiving an offer.
Two weeks after I'd been put on the U of C's waiting list, I was taken off. They had chosen to accept seven PhD students this year, and I was not one of them.
(As aside, possibly fuel for another rant: the U of C is the one school in Canada where you can do a creative PhD. Creative Writing has been identified as one of the U of C's official "Pillars of Excellence." Number of creative-stream PhDs accepted last year: zero. Number of creative-stream PhDs accepted this year: maybe one.)
I called University B back, and was not cagey at all. I laid out my situation and I asked for an explanation for their earlier "maybe -- but no" response. I had a number of conversations that ranged from the friendly and supportive to the very odd. At one point, I was told that my application was strong, I was clearly a very talented but that University B was "a decidedly uncreative place" and they just didn't think I'd be happy there. After that, stunned, I stropped trying to wrangle out a decisive answer.
So as of this moment, I have been rejected by both PhD programs I applied to. I've been showered with praise, and yet had the door closed firmly in my face. I will not be going to school in the fall.
I am not sure what to make of the situation. I was deeply disappointed; but I was also completely baffled. I don't fell like I am owed anything, but there is something about this situation that didn't seem right.
So, naturally, On Saturday I went out and got very drunk. My friends proved their awesomeness once again by all coming out, buying me drinks, saying very nice things, and not even making fun of me when I threw up. Well, not much.
This morning, still smarting both from the rejection and the hangover, things are much clearer. I now have this time, this raw potential time that can be filled with anything. Suddenly going to Sideshow School is easier. Suddenly I have time to finish a third manuscript. Suddenly I can study video games in Texas. Suddenly, rejection seems just a little delicious. I am a villain -- maybe I've just been given the freedom I need to build a death ray.
Labels: Academia
Friday, December 21, 2007
academic bellyache
Because I have a poor sense of pattern recognition, I am applying to PhD programs. Because I am a masochist, I am actually looking forward to going back to school. I love taking classes. The Idea of comprehensive exams is actually appealing -- I test well and obviously love to read. The idea of writing a dissertation is enough send me into a panic attack, but it's the furthest mental hurdle to overcome and therefore the easiest to manage. I remember feeling nebulous and unsure when applying for my MA. I had not settled completely on a city and a school, so deciding where to go was a slow and agonizing process. Now, there really is only one choice. And while I am giving myself options, playing there field, there is definitely something specific that I want. Being certain does not give me peace. There is something that I want, and therefore something to be nervous about. It makes me sound naive and unaware of myself, but only recently have I realized that I have a serious anxiety problem. It's robbed me of sleep for years, caused a slew of stomach problems, made me less than the person and partner I want to be. Then last night I was a tense, hysterical, nauseated mess, because I realized a package I mailed might not get to Ontario in time. Not an application, not a necessary document, an ordinary package to someone who would completely understand if it showed up a day or two late. I was in tears. I still have a headache from the tightness in my jaw and neck. This is not just silly. This is something I genuinely need to take care of. Maybe before I start a PhD and my head actually explodes. Labels: Academia, Anxiety Sunday, July 08, 2007
Mistress of the Arts
I didn't even throw up before my defense. It went really well. My committee was positive and supportive and asked good questions. I brought a huge stack of notes with me that I didn't refer to once. There as once question I KNEW I was going to be asked about my use of the abject; I was a little bit uncomfortable about my ability to answer this particular question, and of course it was asked first. It lasted about an hour and a half, which flew by. Waiting afterward while they deliberated felt much longer. I passed. They asked for minor revisions, all of which I agree with. I've started making them already; I'll be done before the end of the month. I passed, and they all liked the project and wanted me to continue it. I wanted, so badly, for it all to be over. I imagined that I'd defend and never want to look at Tonsil Hockey again. I wouldn't have to; I'd be free. All this experience did was make me want to keep working on it. It feels anticlimactic to be working on it a little more, but also a relief; I was not ready to let it go. Even when the final copy is handed in to Grad Studies, I can't see myself ever leaving it completely. Serves me right for starting an open ended project. Or serves me write. Of course I got drunk. My mother had asked that I keep myself out of the hospital, and that I managed. That's about all I can say. Shelley and derek and Belinda all met me and the committee in the grad lounge for champagne. My external committee member and I talked about our cats and her art show.I was still plenty coherent then, just happy. Then at about 6, we wandered down to the Kensington pub. A small crowd, including Ed and my brother, were already there. It went so fast. It seemed just about everyone came, even if they stayed just a few minutes. Even the people from work came out. I remember laughing a lot. There were nachos and 5-cent chicken wings, rye-and-cokes and rockstars. It was, inevitably, Paul Kennett who ended things. He and I did a shot of tequila. I felt much better after I threw up. I almost fell asleep in a doorway at 2am, curled up on the cement steps, waiting for a cab to come. When we got home, I fell in bed and called for Ed to help me because my shoes were making me hot and I couldn't get them off by myself. I felt surprisingly okay the next day. My brother, Natalee, Jeremy, Casey, Mo and I all went to Dairy Lane for the Best Breakfast Ever. Mike and I then went to The Farmer's Market for fruit. Mike finally had to go to work. I spent the afternoon in the back yard, letting the cats eat grass and chase moths in the sunshine. I thought about the work I had to do, and it made me happy. Labels: Academia, Celebrations Wednesday, May 23, 2007
I have a date!
Right now, this ranks right up there with a wedding date or a due date. I will defend my thesis in June 28th, 2007 and 1pm. By 3:30pm, I will be in the grad lounge, either celebrating or mourning. Either way, I'll be weeping and drinking. Care to join me? Labels: Academia Thursday, April 12, 2007
one week
It's been one hell of a week. I have been a little tipsy for most of it. There are orange tulips next to my desk and well-wishes stuck to my fridge with magnets. I actually ordered a pizza for the first time in months because cooking? wasn't going to happen. Soon, I am going to stop buzzing and smiling randomly. I am going to stop talking about it now, I swear. * * * The SNRG conducted research on a Japanese movie called The Great Yokai War last night. Best. Film. Ever. Newborn calves with human faces that foretell of doom then bleed out its eyes? An ambulatory wall? Squirrel creatures that bleed tang and take shelter in cleavage? Villain defeated by a legume and a pop song? This movie has it all. I have given nothing away. I think it might be the best bargain-bin $8 Jeremy ever spent. Tonight is the April Flywheel; it's also the U of C's Gala Reading for all the creative writing students, and the Frontenac House launch. This was actually the best Thursday this month to do it. The line up is darn good (Josh Smith, Jill Hartman, Laurie Fuhr and Caleb Zimmerman), so maybe the attendance will surprise me. Either way, it is going to be a good'un. Come out if you can. After a hiatus of almost a week, today I go back to selling cheese. My last day or work was Good Friday. I think it's been the most unproductive 6 days ever in the history of mankind. And yet. I spent some time on campus in the last few days. Just cleaned out my mailbox, got some forms, had a short meeting. I met some friends and had a pint. I saw some fellow students I hadn't seen in months. My stomach didn't feel like I'd swallowed ball bearings. I remember why I went into academia in the first place, and I'm just starting, just the littlest bit, to miss it. By 2008, I think I just might want this. I'm starting to feel that I'll be ready. Labels: Academia, Literary Events, Thumbscrews |
