It’s funny the fragments that stick with you. Moments isolated in time that just keep floating back-and-forth inside your mind.
Some random guy said the above quote after a hike I recently went on. Somewhere between reflecting back on the beautiful hike we’d all just experienced and discussing shoe sizes, this guy throws out that comment. I almost came back with a penis comment—almost. Instead I turned and glared at him (as best as one can glare with large sunglasses) and said, “I bet you really get a lot of girls then, huh.” Really, do people not know how to read their audience?!? He was surrounded by women, and while many of them were above 5’2, not all of them were. Uh, geeish!
The understanding of audience seems so crucial to understanding a lot of life’s experiences, yet, how many people don’t really read their audience. Ironically even those in my own cohort of friends and family don’t always read their own audiences—not a critique, mind you, just an observation. And I’m not suggesting that I’m always do myself, in fact, I'm still learning to respond to this understanding. It's something I stress in my teaching as I try and teach the importance of understanding your audience to both my freshmen and my upper level classes because I believe it’s one of the most important rhetorical concepts they can learn (next to, of course, reflection and genre). Understanding an audience helps teach them that their audience is not merely the teacher and that some day they will be writing to real-life audiences outside of school. I think it’s important for them to start to make those connections early.
Interestingly, I was reminded today of just how important understanding my audience is for my own dissertation. My committee that eventually reads my dissertation makes up my audience and this is so important because there are specific things I am doing/will do to make sure that my audience knows and understands what I am saying. I have read different books and different articles because I want to be sure that I understand case study methodology, for example. Some of the stuff I’ve read I won’t even put in my dissertation but you better believe I’ve read it and will keep in my back pocket just in case!
Reading/understanding audiences are a part of being a competent writer, but also part of being a competent speaker, friend, family member, or basically, all around person.
The random guy probably didn’t mean much with his comment, but as can been seen in #27 of my fun and fabulous facts post, I have a tendency to be sensitive about my height. We all have that one (or two) thing(s) that push our buttons…perhaps if you had grown up hearing midget jokes you would be tiny bit sensitive too (or had the nickname of Willow—from the movie about little people--I'm just sayin').
Moral of the story: whether in a casual conversation, writing for your first-year comp instructor, or writing your dissertation you need to read and understand your audience. I’m guessing the random guy didn’t have 1101/1102 at FSU because perhaps then he might know a little more about audience. ;-)
Monday, March 28, 2011
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Pushing Through the Silence
Forgive me, dear readers, for I have not blogged in 19 days.
***A year ago I was sitting pretty: I had recently come back from CCCC, which had been a fabulous trip, and I felt on top of the world. Little did I know that in a year things would look and feel so different.
No one can prepare you for your last year as a Ph.D. student, and honestly if they tried I’m not sure you would “get it.” The last year has been full of ups and downs and sometimes it feels like mostly downs. It’s not just because the job search is such an emotional roller coaster either—there is just so much that goes on in this last year and the job search is only one part of it. There are times I wish I could simply sit in a dark room watching re-runs of Dawson’s Creek, dt Coke by my side, snuggled under my Florida State blanket with Trini on my lap. But where would that get me besides revved up on caffeine and teenage angst (not that that doesn’t sound appealing!). No, I know I must push forward even if the pace I’m pushing is barely a limp (which given the fact that I still--over ten weeks later--have a slightly swollen ankle is not to far off!).
There have been times in the last four months that I question my ability to write—does that happen to everyone or is it just some insecurity of mine…I really don’t know. There have been times when I’ve wished I was a different kind of writer—one that doesn’t jump in head first without looking back. There have been times where I look at my students and think “I’m just like them” wondering where this thing called writing is going to get me. And there have been times when I wonder how I’m going to finish because for me the writing process has been all or nothing (which is not the kind of writer I normally am). I’ve always been some form of a writer: I won my first writing contest when I was ten for a fire safety essay. I graduated high school with honors in writing (not in English—in writing) after I spent the year taking both an AP English class and the traditional English class because I loved writing. Then in college writing just seemed like a natural major for me. Now twenty years after writing my fire safety essay I question my ability to write because my dissertation keeps shaking her ugly/beautiful (either/or…?!?) head at me.
Questions, questions, questions. Fester, fester, fester. Uh, yikes!
Ten weeks. There is a countdown happening and there’s no going back now. No matter how many lists I make, and no matter how many times I revise those lists, I have a definite deadline. Ten weeks is either going to be a lifetime or in need of a lifeline depending on how it plays out. Based on my competitive nature I’m determined not to let her get the best of me, so in ten weeks I’ll be writing about the joys of completing and successfully defending a little thing called a dissertation.
Here's to her planting a vision inside my brain that takes hold and sticks:
***A year ago I was sitting pretty: I had recently come back from CCCC, which had been a fabulous trip, and I felt on top of the world. Little did I know that in a year things would look and feel so different.
No one can prepare you for your last year as a Ph.D. student, and honestly if they tried I’m not sure you would “get it.” The last year has been full of ups and downs and sometimes it feels like mostly downs. It’s not just because the job search is such an emotional roller coaster either—there is just so much that goes on in this last year and the job search is only one part of it. There are times I wish I could simply sit in a dark room watching re-runs of Dawson’s Creek, dt Coke by my side, snuggled under my Florida State blanket with Trini on my lap. But where would that get me besides revved up on caffeine and teenage angst (not that that doesn’t sound appealing!). No, I know I must push forward even if the pace I’m pushing is barely a limp (which given the fact that I still--over ten weeks later--have a slightly swollen ankle is not to far off!).
There have been times in the last four months that I question my ability to write—does that happen to everyone or is it just some insecurity of mine…I really don’t know. There have been times when I’ve wished I was a different kind of writer—one that doesn’t jump in head first without looking back. There have been times where I look at my students and think “I’m just like them” wondering where this thing called writing is going to get me. And there have been times when I wonder how I’m going to finish because for me the writing process has been all or nothing (which is not the kind of writer I normally am). I’ve always been some form of a writer: I won my first writing contest when I was ten for a fire safety essay. I graduated high school with honors in writing (not in English—in writing) after I spent the year taking both an AP English class and the traditional English class because I loved writing. Then in college writing just seemed like a natural major for me. Now twenty years after writing my fire safety essay I question my ability to write because my dissertation keeps shaking her ugly/beautiful (either/or…?!?) head at me.
Questions, questions, questions. Fester, fester, fester. Uh, yikes!
Ten weeks. There is a countdown happening and there’s no going back now. No matter how many lists I make, and no matter how many times I revise those lists, I have a definite deadline. Ten weeks is either going to be a lifetime or in need of a lifeline depending on how it plays out. Based on my competitive nature I’m determined not to let her get the best of me, so in ten weeks I’ll be writing about the joys of completing and successfully defending a little thing called a dissertation.
Here's to her planting a vision inside my brain that takes hold and sticks:
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
We can work it out
Life is very short, and there's no time/For fussing and fighting, my friend.
I have always thought that it's a crime,/So I will ask you once again.
If January was “Whataya want from me” month than February was the “we can work it out” month.
The life of a fourth year PhD student moves in weird, jerky directions and one moment you feel completely in control and the next you feel as if you’ve jumped off the Fort Steuben bridge in the middle of January and the icy water consumes you (a bit melodramatic, eh?). I’ve been working things out this month with both the dissertation and the job search. At the beginning of the month I felt like I was slapping this dissertation in the face and gleefully yelling “I got you babe” but it was as if I spoke too soon. My dissertation spent two weeks in February fading in and out of consciousness—I was a mere passenger as it tried to work itself out. The dissertation, as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, is a beast and most of the time this beast ain’t pretty. It develops a personality; it forges ahead into territories you don’t want it to go; it plops down and takes a week long vacation when you don’t want it to; it rants in a language unknown to the human mind. I’ve spent most of February going back and forth with her and not making a whole lotta head way. I felt so in control the first week of February and so outta control for the rest of the month. I haven’t regained that sense of control until the last couple days, thus, my dissertation and I have been working things out this month (I’ve already warned her that February is the only month she is allowed for this to happen). Yes, ladies and gentleman, the dissertation becomes a living breathing entity, and you bow to her unquestionable powers.
We can work it/we can work it out.
Try and see it my way.
I’m working things out. I finally broke down and practiced coding. It was scary—no joke—and I’ve been putting it off because I’m unsure if I’m right or wrong with my scheme. Silly, right? But in my head if I didn’t think about it then it wasn’t there. Good thing for me KY wouldn’t let me forgot about it otherwise I’d turn into one of those dissertation lifers. I broke down, though, and even if it’s not going to work at least I know how to start up again. It’s not as scary once you’ve tried it; it was getting to the trying stage that was hard.
Spring break is looming in front of me and as a wise person recently said, “you might find it wise to use some or all of spring break to help you assure that the rest of the term goes well.” Academics might “get” spring break off from teaching but it’s actually an opportunity to work; to get caught up; to get ahead. Some won’t see it that way, I realize, but I see a week’s worth of no commitments and a schedule of nothing but writing, and I’m kinda pumped about that. I have a deadline to meet, and I fully intend to make it. So I’m working it things out with my dissertation—she's finally starting to see things my way.
I have always thought that it's a crime,/So I will ask you once again.
If January was “Whataya want from me” month than February was the “we can work it out” month.
The life of a fourth year PhD student moves in weird, jerky directions and one moment you feel completely in control and the next you feel as if you’ve jumped off the Fort Steuben bridge in the middle of January and the icy water consumes you (a bit melodramatic, eh?). I’ve been working things out this month with both the dissertation and the job search. At the beginning of the month I felt like I was slapping this dissertation in the face and gleefully yelling “I got you babe” but it was as if I spoke too soon. My dissertation spent two weeks in February fading in and out of consciousness—I was a mere passenger as it tried to work itself out. The dissertation, as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, is a beast and most of the time this beast ain’t pretty. It develops a personality; it forges ahead into territories you don’t want it to go; it plops down and takes a week long vacation when you don’t want it to; it rants in a language unknown to the human mind. I’ve spent most of February going back and forth with her and not making a whole lotta head way. I felt so in control the first week of February and so outta control for the rest of the month. I haven’t regained that sense of control until the last couple days, thus, my dissertation and I have been working things out this month (I’ve already warned her that February is the only month she is allowed for this to happen). Yes, ladies and gentleman, the dissertation becomes a living breathing entity, and you bow to her unquestionable powers.
We can work it/we can work it out.
Try and see it my way.
I’m working things out. I finally broke down and practiced coding. It was scary—no joke—and I’ve been putting it off because I’m unsure if I’m right or wrong with my scheme. Silly, right? But in my head if I didn’t think about it then it wasn’t there. Good thing for me KY wouldn’t let me forgot about it otherwise I’d turn into one of those dissertation lifers. I broke down, though, and even if it’s not going to work at least I know how to start up again. It’s not as scary once you’ve tried it; it was getting to the trying stage that was hard.
Spring break is looming in front of me and as a wise person recently said, “you might find it wise to use some or all of spring break to help you assure that the rest of the term goes well.” Academics might “get” spring break off from teaching but it’s actually an opportunity to work; to get caught up; to get ahead. Some won’t see it that way, I realize, but I see a week’s worth of no commitments and a schedule of nothing but writing, and I’m kinda pumped about that. I have a deadline to meet, and I fully intend to make it. So I’m working it things out with my dissertation—she's finally starting to see things my way.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
30 Fun and Fabulous Facts
In celebration of my recent birthday I thought I would change up this week’s blog post and do something a little lighter in tone.
30 things you may or may not know about me (one for each year I’ve been alive!):
1. I have 5 piercing in one ear--3 of which my mom pierced for me. I only wear three of the five.
2. I have a serious fear of heights and don’t actual like roller coasters.
3. One my favorite meals is my dad’s mac-n-cheese (but my mom taught him how to make it!).
4. I talk to Trini as if she is a person and as a result I’m pretty sure it’s made her a very neurotic dog.
5. I have a fixation with being strikingly unique—from my clothes, to my attitude, to my hair style, to my writing style—I blame it on being a twin and always having to share everything (DT and I shared almost everything until we were 21 from friends to jobs to schools).
6. I’m obsessed with reality TV. I have no idea why.
7. I had an atrial septal defect repaired when I was four, and I have a moon shaped scar that spans from under my arm to the other side of my boob. Being a swimmer and wearing tiny little competitive bathing suits people could always see my scar, so I used to make-up stories about how I got it instead of telling the truth.
8. I have another scar on my belly that’s in the perfect shape of an “L” that JT gave me with scissors.
9. I am extremely close with my mom, dad and brothers and talk to them several times a day (I think my parents actually get sick of me calling!).
10. My one real vice is Dt. Coke…ok pop in general. In college JP and I could go through a cube of Pepsi in less than a week (she’s the only person besides JT that I know has the same love affair with pop).
11. I only drink pop with a straw (something I learned from JP!).
12. Sometimes I put on musicals just so I can sing along (a personal favorite is “Suddenly Seymour”).
13. I dated the same guy on and off for over ten years. He was my first boyfriend and at one point I was sure I would marry him. Funny how life works out.
14. I hate dressing up for Halloween but love decorating for it (backwards I know).
15. When I get really, really angry I cry. When other people cry, I cry. But other than that I don't really cry.
16. One of my best friends, J(L)M, and I became friends in first grade when we came to school wearing the exact same outfit right down to the same shoes. Throughout our friendship we have shown up to places in the same outfits without knowning we'd done it. Our friendship has stood strong for over 20 years.
17. I played the piano for 17 years and minored in it in college but I haven’t really played it since I was 26.
18. I love lilacs.
19. My family in Atlanta is very special to me, and we always spend some part of the summer together.
20. When I was little I was sure I would be married by the time I hit 30 and have a child named Anne Elizabeth Suzan Taczak-XXX. Poor child would have had nightmares about her name.
21. I occasionally have a moment of panic where a tiny voice in my head screams “you won’t be able to finish your dissertation.”
22. I love fashion and learned most of what I know from my mom.
23. I once won a push-up contest where I did 115 push-ups (true story ask JP or DT…afterwards I went to a frat party and challenged a guy who was annoying me to a push-up contest and beat him. I truly am no longer that competitive nor can I do that many push-ups).
24. I love shoes, bags, and scarves and own almost 50 pairs of shoes (mostly Steve Madden and Jessica Simpson’s because they are the only shoes that tend to fit me—I have an unusually small foot and even smaller heel), 30 scarves, and 20 bags.
25. When I was sophomore in high school I got a B in English because I sat and unashamedly flirted with the boy behind me instead of paying attention. I never got a B in English again.
26. I go to church every Sunday.
27. I hate it when people mention my height and have a tendency to want to drop kick someone when they mention it. Yeah, I get it. I’m short. Get over it already.
28. Sometimes when I’m angry, frustrated or upset with someone I have vividly detailed conversations with them in my head. One time a person that I was having a “conversation” with came up behind me and could tell something was wrong and that it was directed at her. Now I try and keep those conversations in the shower so my body language doesn’t project what I’m thinking (I’ve been told I can have loud body language).
29. I never read the Harry Potter books but I love all the movies.
30. I believe in standing up for what you believe in even if no one else around agrees with you but I don't believe in arguing with someone who's stupidly putting down your beliefs because that person has already shut out/off anything you would say (think about it...).
I can only hope and pray that my 30s are as entertaining, enlightening, and fabulous as my 20s were!
Monday, February 14, 2011
Big A, Little A what begins with A?
Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple. Dr. SeussWell, ain’t that the truth, Seuss.
That Dr. Seuss had wisdom to spare and as another week begins I find myself drawn to some of my favorite Dr. Seuss quotes. I grew up with Dr. Seuss—we were best buds, if you will—my mom taught my brothers and me to read using many of his books (and if I try I can recite several from memory: Big F, little f what begins with F? Four, Fluffy feathers on a fiffer-fefer-feff!) when we were barely old enough to read. From this began a love affair with words, thus, I’ve been fond of reading and writing ever since. Love affair is very appropriate description (especially given today is Valentine’s Day and all) because the relationship has had its ups and downs—sometimes even failing on me when I needed it most.
Take today. I had an interview with a school that I was very excited about interviewing with. But, I have a cold (yes, I’m sick again…I apparently have a sign on my forehead that says, “open for business—calling all germs”) that has situated itself in my throat and sinuses. I basically coughed my way through a feverish 20min interview (case in point: right in the middle of explaining a key point of my research I had to break for coughing…moment lost). I’m hoping and praying that somehow the search committee heard my main points through the coughing and sniffing but who knows (no one likes a sniffer). Words failed me today because they got caught behind a wall of mucus (gross, I know). I’m still blaming them because I feel if they had really had my back they would have mustered through with a better fight.
Today’s interview I'm appropriately titling as a AYFK? moment.
My mentor (and dissertation head) told a group of us a secret: awhile
ago she was given a slip of paper with words "are you kidding" on them
and was told to pull it out whenever the moment seemed to call for them.
Today was one of those moments only I'd like to re-phrase, "are you [blank]
kidding?!?" (texting purposes AYFK?).
The questions are complicated, yes indeed. How the heck do I get a job? How do I prove to a search committee that I’m the one that they want (because I’m smart, competent, and work really hard—I mean how does one get that across in an interview without seeming too narcissistic)? When do I get off this insanely long and bumpy roller coaster (have a mentioned I hate roller coasters?!?)? And most importantly, “And will [I] succeed?” According to Seuss, “Yes, indeed, yes indeed! Ninety-eight and three-quarters percent guaranteed.” Hm. It’s the other one and a quarter that worries me.
Monday, February 7, 2011
The Facts of Life
You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have—The Facts of Life.
Some people never learn about the “facts of life” because some people never learn to take the good with the bad. We’re human—we want good all the time—even if we know it’s unrealistic.
A fact:
The Steelers lost the Super Bowl on Sunday, and as saddened as I am by that fact, I still pretty proud of my boys. 2nd in the NFL is none too shabby especially when the critics panned them as having a bad year due to the BR drama. Yes, the boys done well—they done real well.
There's a time you got to go and show, You're growin' now you know about—The Facts of Life.
A fact:
Some people never grow only wanting to wallow around in what might have been instead of what could be. Three of my friends have gotten campus interviews and one of them said to me that he almost didn’t tell me because he knew I’d be upset. I found this to be amusing rather than offensive (luckily) because one thing I’ve learned in the last six months is you can’t wallow. What kind of person would be upset over a friend’s success? Seems silly. No, I’m proud of these three. They are forging ahead and making it work in a very difficult market.
You got the future in the palm of your hands all you gotta do to get you through is understand you think you rather do without, you will never make without the truth—The facts of life is all about you.
A fact:
You gotta take the job market experience as a growing and learning experience otherwise you’re never going to get out of bed in the morning; you’re never going to teach your students anything substantial this semester; and you’re never going to finish your dissertation. I keep learning this fact over and over again. I feel kinda bad for the head of my dissertation (and also my go-to person for advice on just about everything) because I have had the same talk with her repeatedly (of course I have also had the same talk with my mom and dad, but I don’t feel quite as bad because they don’t have any choice in the matter). So, three people I respect tell me over and over again the same thing: to take each interview, each rejection, each stumble and grow from them. And I do—I grow—but sometimes I grow backwards and need to be reminded I do have the future in the palm of my hand…it’s just the future’s a little unclear right now. But who knows what fact of life next week might hold for me.
I'm taking the good with the bad or at least I'm learning to.
Some people never learn about the “facts of life” because some people never learn to take the good with the bad. We’re human—we want good all the time—even if we know it’s unrealistic.
A fact:
The Steelers lost the Super Bowl on Sunday, and as saddened as I am by that fact, I still pretty proud of my boys. 2nd in the NFL is none too shabby especially when the critics panned them as having a bad year due to the BR drama. Yes, the boys done well—they done real well.
There's a time you got to go and show, You're growin' now you know about—The Facts of Life.
A fact:
Some people never grow only wanting to wallow around in what might have been instead of what could be. Three of my friends have gotten campus interviews and one of them said to me that he almost didn’t tell me because he knew I’d be upset. I found this to be amusing rather than offensive (luckily) because one thing I’ve learned in the last six months is you can’t wallow. What kind of person would be upset over a friend’s success? Seems silly. No, I’m proud of these three. They are forging ahead and making it work in a very difficult market.
You got the future in the palm of your hands all you gotta do to get you through is understand you think you rather do without, you will never make without the truth—The facts of life is all about you.
A fact:
You gotta take the job market experience as a growing and learning experience otherwise you’re never going to get out of bed in the morning; you’re never going to teach your students anything substantial this semester; and you’re never going to finish your dissertation. I keep learning this fact over and over again. I feel kinda bad for the head of my dissertation (and also my go-to person for advice on just about everything) because I have had the same talk with her repeatedly (of course I have also had the same talk with my mom and dad, but I don’t feel quite as bad because they don’t have any choice in the matter). So, three people I respect tell me over and over again the same thing: to take each interview, each rejection, each stumble and grow from them. And I do—I grow—but sometimes I grow backwards and need to be reminded I do have the future in the palm of my hand…it’s just the future’s a little unclear right now. But who knows what fact of life next week might hold for me.
I'm taking the good with the bad or at least I'm learning to.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
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?
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?
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