Whataya want from me?!?

Whataya want from me?!?

Adam Lambert, looking straight into the camera, provocatively sings “whataya want from me” and we wonder just who is he talking to—the public, the radio stations, the paparazzi, the record label or is he really just singing an anthem of many of our lives? The answer to his probing question is never answered and even in interviews Lambert says the song’s meant to be open for interpretation.

I have never really liked Adam Lambert—a personal preference to be sure—but his lyrics are the kind that get stuck in your head and won’t get out. I started out not even wanting to listen to his first single and then last summer a good friend of mine came into town. We had a conversation about how much she loves (!) Lambert and how much I did not. To be honest EB has quite the eclectic taste (read weird ;-) in the people that she appreciates/loves in Hollywood. I mean this is a girl who has a near obsession with Steve Buscemi beyond his acting ability—great actor, but past that um, no thanks. So we had this long conversation about Lambert and she didn’t sell me on him, but once she left I started to hear his song everywhere, and I do mean everywhere. I’d be in the mall or in the car or I’d be watching TV and boom! There he was in all his glammed out glory. I think EB flew out of Tallie leaving behind a (Glam)bert curse—to follow me wherever I go. So, Lambert’s song grew on me (note: he did not—just to be clear).

Whataya want from me?!?

January, for me, has been the month of whataya want from me. The post from a few weeks ago needs to be revised: Pollyanna has fled the building. I’ve been sitting on the sidelines for most of the month, and I’m going to be honest it’s been hard.

First came an ankle injury, which left me having to try and do work from the couch. Sounds reasonable but I had to elevate my ankle and ice it while attempting to balance my computer, books, notes, and notebooks. I tried to suck it up and sit at my desk only to have my ankle swell more. Luckily it’s on the mend. I think what’s distressed me the most about the ankle injury is the fact that I’ve been stuck in tennis shoes and flats for over two weeks not an easy feat for a girl who loves her heels.

Next I somehow contracted two strains of the flu virus—I’m blaming my freshmen, which I told them and they agreed it was probably them—and have been completely “laid up” (as my grandmother would say) for the last five days and counting. This is a wicked version of the flu that I don’t wish upon anyone (also because you have to be tested for the flu and its one awful experience—a long, flexible cotton swab is jammed up your nose…). It completely wipes you out. I’ve tried for the last two days to get up and do work only to go back bed. I am on the mend, which is a good thing, but not 100%. Today I thought I could tackle a lot of work only to have to go back to bed for several hours. The word is that it takes 7-10 days to completely recover from this flu, but holy crap who does that work for?!? I’m trying to go with one day at time and work in shorter spans to see if that helps (obviously since I’m writing this I’m having an up moment =).

***A shout-out here to my brother, JT, who has been taking great care of me during all of these aliments. Not sure what I would have done without him. Been even more miserable I’m sure.***

So both my working and my working out have been shot to hell this month, which if you know me are two extremely important parts of my life—not to mention I’m in the middle of training for a half marathon that is now four weeks away and my dissertation due date is looming in front of me. Hm…the next several months might not be pretty.

And last, and probably the most important part of the whataya want from me month, has been about figuring out how to deal with rejection. Yes, January is the month of no’s—no thank you; we’ve moved forward without you; thanks but no thanks; and a lot of great applications were turned away and yours was one of them. I even got a double no from one school because they accidently sent me two email dings two weeks apart. I emailed them back to say, “uh, thanks but I got your point with your first email” (I didn’t really email that but I did email to say they let me know twice—just nicer). The rejection definitely hurts worse when you have interviewed with a school. I haven’t heard from all the schools I’ve interviewed with but the ones I have that have turned me down have been very nice emails but rejections all the same. I want to ask them: Why wasn’t I what you were looking for? What about my answers didn’t cut it? Did you like any part of my application/interview?

Rejection, no matter the form, makes you question yourself—a natural reaction. So, yes, I have been questioning myself a bit this month but I still believe I’m going to get a job. I haven’t given up hope just yet (guess Pollyanna didn’t run too far away). But what I think I’ve learned from the month of January are four things: (1) shorter goals; (2) one day at a time; and (3) stay away from tree roots and sick people.


Oh, wait. I said four things: to just start asking everyone whataya want from me?

12th (wo)man on the Team

Here we go Steelers…here we go. Pittsburgh’s goin’ to the Super Bowl.

After what was a very long week (didn’t seem to matter it was technically only a four dayer), we end on a high note. The Steelers become the second team in NFL history to go to eight super bowls (trivia for the other team, though, if you know your NFL it isn’t hard to figure out!). Two weeks from now we will play the Green Bay Packers in effort to become the first team in NFL history to win seven times. Here we go!

I have been a Steelers fan since before I came out of the womb—I was born into a Steelers family. My dad, my mom, my dad’s dad, my dad’s brother, and so on. Most of family members are Steelers fans. I grew up with David spouting off Steelers line-ups and giving predications way before a child can even truly understand the impact of being a Steelers fan. But the thing about being a Steelers fan is you kinda get labeled as things such as obnoxious, loud, overbearing, and opinionated--even as a child fan. I think what bothers people the most is we’re everywhere. This is Steelers country baby. We’re the 12th man on the team. Win or lose we represent.

I think that a PhD student sorta resembles a Steelers fan. Often these students can be obnoxious, loud, and/or overbearing and (most definitely) opinionated (you know it’s true, though, some people are more than others). I have to wonder if it’s because we go to school for such a long time, so we have lots of knowledge to throw around, right? We know stuff—lots of stuff—and depending on the PhD student’s personality this can come across as, well, all of the above. But we are also like the 12th man on team because we get our jobs done—whether that job is to teach students how to write, how critically analyze, or how to research; we expand upon existing theories to create new defining moments in our fields; and most importantly, the majority of us are fighters never giving up even when we may really (!) want to. We represent our teams (aka disciplines) well and as a result as we make the transition from PhD student to PhD, we go from the 12th man to an actual member of the team. That’s what we are fighting for; it’s why we work hard, push hard, and play hard to earn that spot on the team: to be a professor baby. =)

I write this in the afterglow of winning (another) AFC championship game and as I struggle through the final semester of my PhD. But I kind of like the idea of being the 12th (wo)man on the team because it’s part of the secret to Steelers success, and they don’t leave home without them. Thus, I, too, will be successful in my transition from PhD student to PhD. Makes rational sense.

I'm just a regular ole (anal) Pollyanna

The best laid plans of mice and men…

I perpetually outline different plans for my life or as my mom likes to say I plan my life out in semesters. I do; it’s true. I love to plan. If someone were to take a look at my calendar they might notice the colors (because I tend to color code activities); they might also notice I tend to plan out things based on the hour of the day. 8:00 teach. 9:30 print out CCC work. 12:00 eat lunch. Sounds crazy (I know), but it works for me and keeps my stress level at bay. It really works for me as I tend to be a very busy person with a lot going on mainly because I like to be busy—at one point in my life I was coaching two swim teams, teaching six different composition classes, taking one graduate class, and selling jewelry...now that took some creative planning on my part! So it should come as no surprise that I’m not really spontaneous nor do I like it when my day doesn’t go accordingly to plan (or my month for that matter!). I’ve had to learn to adjust, I must admit, so that I don’t go crazy since as we know life doesn’t always work as we’d like it to.

One thing that this process of job seeking has taught me is to try to go with the flow because let me honest—no matter the level of planning—nothing goes according to plan. Good example: I made a chart of the schools I applied to/will apply to and color coded based on where I want to go and where seemed like a “good” fit. Well I might as well have thrown the color coding out the window because none of it has worked out. The schools I thought I’d be a perfect fit at apparently didn’t agree with me as I haven’t gotten interviews at them. But the schools that I have interviewed with have been very pleasant surprises. The last interview I had was particular awesome for several reasons: (1) the people were so enthusiastic and fun to talk with, (2) my research aligns very nicely with their English department’s mission, and (3) I’d be able to teach some kick ass classes (oh, yes even one possibility of teaching a class on vampires ;-). Thus, my plans are changing. I’m learning to re-adjust my thinking as to what’s important to me in this job search process (besides the obvious of wanting desperately to secure a job) because what I thought was going to be “the plan” isn’t working. And you know what—surprisingly I’m ok with it. I have had some really great interviews with some really great schools that have opened up different possibilities for me which honestly is just exciting.

Hopefully one (or more) of those great schools will want me for a campus interview, but if they don’t, I’m still open for possibilities as my yearly outlined plan has blank spots in it that are just waiting to be filled in. I tend, too, to be more optimistic than not (which I blame my mom for—she’d repeatedly sing to my brothers and me during bad times “the sun will come out tomorrow” so much so that now when I have a bad day I find myself singing it aloud or saying it out loud to others when they have a bad day— let’s just say that not everyone is as keen on the Annie song as I am), so though my thinking might be overly optimistic I still think there are going to be possibilities. And I’m going to hold onto that for a little while longer.

“The poet and the engineer (and the coral reef) may seem a million miles apart in their particular forms of expertise, but when they bring good ideas into the world, similar patterns of development and collaboration shape that process” (22).

Innovation. Dissertation. The two words link nicely together or rather we hope they will--that when we sit back, close the dissertation and send it on its merry way, it’s innovative, creative and offers a fresh perspective on something that someone’s going to want to read/listen to. Right? Right. I often wonder, though, how anyone can claim that something is innovative and fresh in the 21st century—doesn’t it feel like so much has already been done already?

Well Steven Johnson’s latest book, Where Good Ideas Come From, might offer some type of answer to this. In it he questions how we might “generate groundbreaking ideas that push forward our careers, our lives, our society, our culture?” I just recently bought Johnson’s book (along with Red Riding Hood, the new movie that’s coming out, and The Vampire Book: the Encyclopedia of the Undead—hey, no judgment it was only 98 cents, and I happen to buy any book that has the word vampire on its cover and now if you ever have burning desire to get up on your vampire knowledge I got ya covered!) because I’m curious as to how he might answer this question. I feel like the dissertation begs to “push forward” something for us, whether that something is our careers or our lives and an article I just read in the Chronicle of Higher Ed suggests just that. Schools look for innovative dissertations, and we want to give that to them.

But first things first: putting those good ideas down on paper. Sometime I think part of the difficulty in writing a dissertation is me: I’m my biggest obstacle. I’ve never had issues drafting something—ask my college roommate, I could whip up a pretty darn good 10-15 page source-based paper in five hours or less—and this has continued with me. My writing process differs slightly from most that I know because I write my way into everything. There’s no need for outlining, brainstorming, or rough drafts, I jump right into the first complete draft. This means, though, that my drafting process is probably longer than most, but it works for me. Normally. Until this dissertation. Now I’m struggling, and I don’t like it—not one bit. If I had one page of writing for every time I have written on a to-do list “work on dissertation” it would have been done before Christmas. Instead I’m working my way through #2 and a little thing called coding.

Perhaps struggling is part of the dissertation process, and if that’s so, I’m saddened that I’ve succumbed to the perils of it. I have good ideas I tell you! They are floating around somewhere in my head; I just need them float there way down to my fingers and out onto the page at a much faster rate.

Brain hear my call: I need #2 completed drafted by Friday (that’s two days from now) and a outline of a coding scheme. K? Well, ok then get those good ideas flying--not floating--on down to my fingers.

MLA: California dreamin’

Dreams are a funny thing. Sometimes we remember them; sometimes we don’t; sometimes we dream in black and white; sometimes we dream in color. Sometimes they are pleasant; sometimes they are scary. Sometimes they repeat. People say that reoccurring dreams have some underlying meaning that perhaps our subconscious is trying to tell us something. My cousin dreams repeatedly that her teeth fallout in public (weird, I know). I have a reoccurring dream, too, and I often wake up going, huh, well that’s interesting…I’m up in front of a classroom of about 20 or more students; the seats are arranged in an L, and it’s the first day of classes. I’m dressed in dark denim and killer black boots chewing pink Bubblegum. Half-way through my introduction of the course something goes awry and the students go crazy—jumping on top of the desks, yelling and screaming horrible insults at one another—I try to yell above the noise only I can’t because the Bubblegum is caught in my teeth and almost choking me. I try and spit it out only it’s stuck, so I try using my fingers to pull it out but it’s not working because there is so much Bubblegum I can’t get it all out. I wake up every time in the middle of me trying to pull the gum out of my mouth. I’ve had the dream like 8 times. Now I don’t have a degree in psychology but if I had to venture a guess I’d say my subconscious is trying to say “don’t chew Bubblegum while teaching”—good thing I don’t chew Bubblegum only sugar free gum for me (doesn’t stick to the teeth!). Dreams are crazy beasts, and who knows what they really mean. I’ve been California dreamin’ for the last several nights in the heart of California: LA.

Hello, MLA. How do you do?

Ah, MLA that exclusive conference that we believe holds the key to our real-life dreams (I know I’m hoping and praying it does for me!). Real-life dreams seem to be a beast even more wicked and deathly alluring than the ones that only happen in our sleep. We all have dreams even if we can’t admit that we do—my mom has always said “dream big” and I have, so I have never once wanted to believe during this roller coaster process that I wouldn’t walk away with a job. I’ve wanted to be a professor since I was 15 (true story my sophomore English teacher asked me to write a research paper on what we wanted to be, so for me it was either a professor or a psychologist and obviously with my above nickel-and-dime diagnosis it’s a real good thing that didn’t work out!). So MLA was another step towards me attempting to make that dream come true.

Lists are a passion of mine—I make lists to make lists—so I thought the best way to describe MLA/LA is in an enumerated list-like fashion.

2 interviews: both of which went really well.Face-2-face is great because of the obvious reasons, but honestly it really boils down to they are just more personal. I felt like the two schools knew me, and they alluded to this by specifically referring to things in my letter, vitae, writing sample, etc (which didn’t necessarily happen in my phone interviews). I knew my first interview was going to go well when I walked into the hotel room, and my interviewer was wearing brown, furry ankle boots that were at least 4 inches. Hello, woman after my own heart. We had coffee and wonderfully delicious blueberry muffins, and it felt more like an engaging conversation than an interview. The second interview was at the MLA hotel, and it too went well, but the feeling wasn’t as intimate because of the room it was conducted in. The majority of MLA interviews happen here in this huge room where there are row-upon-row of tables and chairs arranged for the different schools.An interviewee must go sign in, get the number of their school’s table then wait until the interview time and go up. It looks very much like herding cattle, and although, it looks this way it didn’t feel this way--at least to me--probably because the school I interviewed with didn’t make me feel that way.

5 airports: Due to a slight hiccup on the way to LA, I was re-routed from Atlanta to Memphis then to LA. It extended my trip by many (!) hours, but hey I was able to enjoy a bit of Memphis BBQ and walk into an Elvis shop.Award for the best airport goes hands down to Detroit. So clean and open and just easy to maneuver (and I had a very tight connection only 30 minutes in which I was able to run to my concourse, grab a magazine and lunch). Ironically I was on five airplanes, but only sat next to one person. I don’t know how that happened, but it was awesome. Best trivia question on the Delta trivia pursuit game: Tallahassee is the capitol of which lower 48 state? No joke.

15 (or more) ups-and-downs in the window elevator: Perhaps one of the best parts of the trip was the elevator in my hotel, and apparently an attraction for even those native to LA or so this random woman told me when we rode up and down three times just to go to the top and come back down again to watch LA from the view. It was a window elevator, and the woman told me she comes to just ride it at different points of the day (yah she was a bit unusual—she also asked if she could go to the MLA conference and said she wanted to because she had free parking that day so she needed to take advantage of all she could—ok not just unusual plain different).

1 near panic attack: Yes, only one, and it seriously almost happened right before my first interview. Here's what happened: I go to the hotel for my first interview really early to prep and get myself together. Plenty of time to get up to the hotel room on time. I go to the desk, call up and go to the elevators. I have ten minutes or so to get up there—no problem, right? Wrong. I get onto the elevator with woman, and she hits the button for the 14th floor. We go up the 14th floor the elevator stops…nothing happens. The doors do not open then without warning the elevator goes down to the 8th floor, back up to the 14th floor back, down to the 2nd floor, back up to the 14th floor. You get the picture. We rode the elevator up and down for almost eight minutes without the doors opening (and this elevator did NOT have windows). The woman at one point looked at me and giggled, “you know this is most people’s worst fears getting stuck in an elevator.” I almost slapped her. All I could think was I going to miss my interview because the elevator developed a split personality. Luckily, we eventually made it to the ground floor and the doors opened, and I ran (literally—thankgoodness for kitten heels!) so that I wouldn’t be late.

Things I did by myself—too many to count: Those that know me really well, know this is a huge deal for me. I am not someone that enjoys doings things by myself, and it’s much like a fear or phobia. I blame this on the fact that I was born a twin—growing up and for many years after I never (and I mean never) had to do things by myself because the twin was always with me (if you are not a twin or a multiple you probably don’t understand this. Even having a very close sibling is not the same. When I was in elementary school my mom wanted to separate us in school because she was afraid we would become too dependant on one another but the school district wouldn’t allow it and look what happened! Hello dependency.). Moving to Florida was one of the best things I could have done to overcome this, but it’s been a slow process. The first semester at FSU I had a conference in Springfield, IL. I flew to Ohio, so I could then drive eight hours with people I was presenting with just so I didn’t have to do things like check into a hotel by myself. Oh the difference three years can make. I not only checked myself into the hotel, but I had lunch and dinner by myself; I did a walking tour of downtown by myself; I stayed in a giant hotel room by myself; and I actually had a great time in LA by myself. I walked to the Macy’s Plaza (I have a thing for Macy's) then I went to the downtown public library (huge!!!) then I walked to the Walt Disney Concert Hall, and I only got lost once and my handy dandy map on my DROID saved me. Needless to say I’m pretty darn proud of myself, and I realize those of you reading probably do not have this same phobia and probably are shaking your heads in disbelief that someone could have it, but all I can say is most people have a fear or phobia, so I wish you well getting over yours, just know I won’t make fun of whatever it is. ;-)

All-in-all LA was a great success and not only because of my interviews. Dreams are funny beasts, and they have a funny way of being resolved/shaped in unexpected places and in unexpected ways. As my mom said to me even if I don’t get campus interviews (though I really hope I do!) LA was a personal accomplishment. Slightly sentimental, yes, but true.

And so, I have to conclude my MLA post with another singer/songwriter words about dreams—“You may say that I'm a dreamer/But I'm not the only one/I hope someday you'll join us.” Lennon always had such a way with words, and had such way of exposing the meaning of dreams.

Capsule Collection

Today my style lexicon told me that a “capsule collection” is a mini clothing collection created by a famous designer for a mass retailer (think William Rast for Target, and if you are still a bit confused that’s Justin Timberlake’s clothing brand…yes it’s true Justin has a clothing line).The goal of a capsule collection is to make designer clothes available at a “reasonable” price. Often, I find, this reasonable price to still be pricey, but it’s probably because I can’t actual afford the affordable designer clothes until I no longer receive graduate wages. Someday. There’s always someday.

So, as I sit attempting to pack for the MLA conference and two pending interviews (not an easy task for those that know me: packing is a dreaded task by which I always overdo making the process at least a day or more instead of an hour), I kind of feel like a capsule collection. No, no I don’t mean I feel like a bunch of overpriced clothes; no I mean I feel like a bit of a wanna-be—something that looks very similar to the real deal, good, stable quality for sure, but not 100% real, and it desperately wants to be accepted enough to be bought by the consumers walking by (or in this case interviewing me, and as such, not buying me but offering me a job!). I wanna-be a professor, mancub (trivia that I’m guessing only my brothers and my mom might know) and stroll into an English department no longer a student but as a member of the club. The membership to this club can often be an exclusive, numbing, and all encompassing, while at the same time thrilling experience, as we all know, but we still want it: tenure-track professor position. Today a professor of mine just received his promotion (nicely done MN!), and the excitement was catching. I left his office excited at the very idea of being offered a TT position. Thus, I’ve done what I can do to make sure these two interviews go smoothly: (1) researched the programs; (2) generated a list of possible questions and responded to them; (3) bought (ok I didn’t buy it—it was my Christmas present from my mom and dad, which I’m so grateful for!) a killer, all-black, conservative suit; (4) printed sample syllabi and vitas; and (5) practiced my responses aloud to the mirror (it’s true, but it’s also true that the mirror has some very constructive criticism ;-). No which way about it, I seem prepared, yet I don’t think I’ll actually know if I prepared successfully until Friday around 11:00am (or in actuality probably not until several weeks after). Until then I’ll keep reciting my dissertation overview in my head and hoping that I don’t mix-up my definition of reflection with something silly like my theory of writing.

Fingers crossed, and say a little prayer (or three)—L.A. here I come.

And here’s hoping that this is a step toward at least a day trip into the club because I’d wouldn't mind being able to afford a designer’s capsule collection someday soon...say like September. =)

2011: to Everything there is a Season!

And so it begins.

Those Bryds knew a thing or two about life when they sang “to everything…there is a season” and as January 2011 kicks off a new season begins for me—my last (!) semester as a graduate student (gulp) ever. I thought since the majority of my degrees involve writing of some form or another it would be wildly appropriate to chronicle my last semester, so that I might be able to share with others the crazy, fast-paced reality of a Ph.D. student on the brink of entering the real world. Not that I haven’t been there before, mind you, but it seems like years ago when there were no little monsters running around (for you Gaga fans), when Tipper and Al were still a happily married couple, and when vampires still belonged to Anne Rice (I tend to live by pop culture references). Here’s hoping the real world hasn’t forgotten me.

Hi, I’m Kara. Let’s begin.

I’m a fourth year Ph.D student at Florida State University. I graduate in summer 2011 with a degree in English, with a major emphasis in Rhetoric and Composition and a minor in Media Studies. I have a master’s degree in education from Walsh University and a bachelor’s degree in creative writing from Mount Union College. If you asked my parents, they might say I’m a perpetual student, and they are seriously hoping that I don’t decide to get another degree. I’m won’t and don’t plan to in case you were wondering.

The semester begins in two days, and as it stares me in the face me, I find myself oddly ready to tackle it perhaps because I’ve done what I can to prepare for it: (1) created a list of goals for each month beginning in January and ending in May (check); (2) uploaded all my syllabi to Blackboard, created blogs for my classes, and added assignments for the first month (check, check and check); (3) outlined my dissertation chapters (check!); (4) drafted #1 and #2 of my dissertation (check and almost check); (5) updated my job list (check); and (6) organized my calendar (check). So I appear ready. Here’s to the front holding up.

And so my season begins. My blog follows the semester as it winds up and down the roller coaster that doesn’t seem to have a stop button. Be prepared for endless references to pop culture (hope that doesn’t stop some of you from reading, but hey, we can’t all appreciate the gloriously fun tidbits that are found in pop culture). Be ready for frank discussions about the innermost thoughts of a job-seeking, dissertation-writing, WEPO/1102 teaching, and CCC’s assisting girl (er, woman). Watch out for those comma mistakes because even though I’m thisclose to having three degrees involving writing…the commas still get me.