I’ve been a full time grad student for a month now; its time to check in.
The picture above is a bit misleading in that I read 2 books on my Kindle and I usually print the online excerpts 4 to a page. Just over 2,500 pages in 30 days. I’ve only had to write a total of 20 pages, but I have talked much more than that. I talk a lot.
I do not suggest reading books for class on a Kindle. While perfect for those to and fro subway commutes, not so much for in class critique and holistic deconstruction of writing style and concept presentation compared to the historiographic predecessor. I have no idea what that last sentence means, but I would if I had read the text in a real book as opposed to on my Kindle.
While reading on the Subway is necessary, I have open to me other options as well. While the tables just outside Houston Hall are nice, the weather is not always as accommodating.
The Van Pelt Library has nice views and comfortable seating, and about 2 million undergrads. they are nice people for sure, but they take up a lot of comfortable seating.
The Graduate Student Center has no undergrads, free coffee and tea (nice if you drink such things), but sadly no hard wood or leather. How appalling!
There is of course always the home office, but it is often overrun by a three year old, a seven year old, and a honey-do list. Not to mention distractions of my own making, like blogs and whatnot.
There are plenty of places on campus. I suppose it does not matter as long as the work gets done. At the root of all this, that is the struggle, getting it all done.
I had my first bout of anxiety and a heart to heart with the person most important to me. My mental check list was insufficient, my planner was condemning me, and I had to make some adjustments.
Thank heavens for a supportive cast, one as invested in my success as I am, because unfortunately when looking at my schedule they are the only ones who have room to move. I have no doubt they will fare just fine with less of my help, they did so just fine before, but it isn’t them I am really worried about, its me.
There is an inner Puritan in me that riddles me with guilt due to the fact that I so deeply enjoy what I am studying. To be successful I must see less of my family, a sacrifice indeed. But what I’m doing while I’m away feels like fun, dealing with a three year old who has skipped her nap-time does not.
I feel like some sort of bandit and surprisingly enough my conscience is not used to it.