Take Me or Leave Me or Maybe Both?

"Take me or leave me; or, as is the usual order of things, both."
— Dorothy Parker

In the event of a (half-way) across the country move, I feel like this Dorothy Parker quote sums up quite a lot.

Finding a place to live.
Transitioning into a new city, a new culture, a new community.
Finding and/or figuring out new and old friendships.
Getting into the general swing of things.

The other day, on a chilly and slightly overcast day, I walked across campus with students walking all over and mingled in the middle of them--part of me remembering what it was like to be 18 and not caring about anything except swimming and boys (not necessarily in that order!) and part of me ready to embrace the professor mode. But what does the professor mode look like and what does it feel like and what does it mean for me? When I was first getting ready to move to Denver, I thought it meant things like, and now suddenly I would be a "grown-up" but just what the heck does that actually mean? What determines a grown-up? As I moved my things into my super cute new apartment, I thought, well that's just silly--I am a grown-up, and I'm pretty content with how I've turned out. ;) So, as a result, I did things like decorate both my apartment and my office in what my mom refers to as having "lots of personality and warm." Some examples: my little area that I've deemed my "bistro" So far I've never owned a dining room table, so a bistro area with a mosaic table seems more appropriate.

My new office--which is totally huge and amazing--I've tried to decorated by infusing my personality while trying to keep it inviting and happy. My desk has lots of color, and of course, my FSU cup, plus a new MAC which I'm still figuring out how to properly use! I also have up (which you probably can't see that well) pictures that make me happy: friends and family, and of course, Trini.
And last, I might even have a Steeler wall (a true Steeler fan stands behind her Steelers EVEN after that embarrassing opening!)Does my office respond to what a "professor mode" might look like? I honestly don't know, but I can say, that I love my office and sitting behind my desk, I feel like me, which is at this current moment is a professor. So, perhaps, I am a little bit of the both mentality: take me and/or leave me. At the same time, I'm not thumbing my nose to the whole idea that some things will need to change; I understand that there are some things that might have to go as I step up in this new role (maybe my nail polish, which is currently teal with the black crackle polish over top...maybe not so much professional as it could be, especially given that I'm rockin' the slowlystartingtopeelaway look). But the challenge of figuring out how to merge the two together, I think is/will be a fun and interesting challenge. Just don't expect me to roll out the shoulder pads anytime soon. ;-)

Lessons Learned

Where there’s an end: there’s a new beginning.

Sometimes when things end there's a mixed emotional response. Happiness mingles with uncertainty. Uncertainty blends into excitement. Excitement back into uncertainty, etc. etc. Endings almost always offer a new beginning, and we hope that that new beginning is something wonderfully grand. But we don’t know. Soon my journey at Florida State ends, and I’ll begin anew at the University of Denver. Flying high above the Atlantic, I glance backwards thinking about that journey—the bumps and bruises and the giggles and tears—and I want to remind myself of all I’ve learned to share with others, but also so if and when the times comes for another similar ending, I am ready.

Welcome to the Funhouse: Lessons Learned

1.The carnival ride doesn’t stop just because you hopped on: A hard lesson to be sure. The fourth year you’re not just on the carnival ride; you’re controlling the switch to the ride; you’re dragging the kids on and off the ride; and you’re running back and forth between concessions stands. In other words, you have a lot going on and none of it stops just because the job market rears its head. There are going to be times when you feel like you are lingering between the alright and the I'm-not-really-alright-here-and-I-need-some-help-please phase. Just know that it does pass.

2. You gotta wrestle with Bearded Lady: No one really wants to wrestle with the bearded lady (because, well...you fill-in the blank =), but you know sometimes you just have to do it. Wrestling takes skill, determination, and planning. Take unexpected chances--you'll be surprised what turns up from them.

3. Keep your eye on the crystal ball: Which means--organize, organize, organize. I am a planner (see various other posts!), and it really helped to keep track of all the jobs in a chart...with a color coding system. Seriously. As it also helps to chunk out your day to include dissertation writing time and job application time. It's all about figuring out what works for you. I happened to do really well on the midnight shift (I wrote from 6:00 pm to 3:00 am daily), but a good friend of mine worked from 8:00 am to 5:00 pm. Figure out what works--and no matter how weird it might seem--go with it.

There are so many other things, too, that seem tiny in comparisons but let me name a few. Invest in a good travel (carry-on) bag for traveling—saves money and time. Invest in a killer suit—people do notice what you wear (I had several different interviewers comment—in a positive way—about my attire). Smile--a friendly smile, not a scary-murderess smile. Drink lots of water. Carry chapstick with you. Create a list of practice questions and type up answers. Don't ever (!) give up. Create positive post-its and stick them in front of your computer. Talk to friends that are going through the 4th year--they really help--whether it's to talk you off the ledge or to talk you through a chapter that isn't working. Believe it will happen.

Lessons learned.

Thankgoodness my carnival ride has finally come to a stop and though the process was what I might consider...awfully hard ;-) I.made.it.

Gotta Secret

“got a secret.
can you keep it?
swear this one you'll save.
better lock it in your pocket,
taking this one to the grave.”

I’ve got a secret. Well two actually.

I’m not going save these secrets—I’m going to share.

Secret #1: Still the Same Me

The transition from graduate student to Ph.D. is weird. And amazing. And slow. And anti-climatic. And awesome. And. And.

For two weeks now (I know, I know that’s not technically a lot of time, but really it’s been four years in the making…more if you count all of years spent going to school and teaching), I’ve been Kara E. Taczak, Ph.D, and the emotions I've gone through are simply put, weird. It’s amazing for sure, and I’m not sure it will e-v-e-r get old to hear someone say Dr. Taczak (although note taken: no one is going to get the pronunciation correct) or to refer to myself as Dr. Kt (or to my family Dr. Siss—yes, I’ve been signing emails as Dr. Siss). But what’s weird is I’m still me: I still watch too many reality TV shows, venture online to obsess over shoes, scarves, and bags I can’t afford, read People.com, plan most of my days, and do work (now that’s one thing I thought might change for whatever the reason: the amount of work I have to do!). I was secretly hoping I’d wake up somewhat different; like somehow I'd have changed--I’d look in the mirror and just look different. Like if I was walking on the street and someone walked past by me he/she might think: whoa! There goes one smart lady. She must have a Ph.D. I realize I might be reaching for some level of Cinderella where pumpkins can turn into coaches and maids into princesses, but still I had hope. Reality check came last week while I was at a week-long research seminar on transfer (which for the record was great!). First, I was mistaken for a student worker while I was grabbing a Dt. Coke from the office (I was even dressed in a super cute navy blue blazer!! Hello, what student worker would wear that?!?), and second, I was in the middle of group discussing some key points on transfer when one person in the group looked at me and said, “well, Kara’s the grad. student. She should know this answer!” Um. Ouch. And hello not very nice. So, I must not look very different to the outside world as much as I had hoped I would. And apparently there are no bright shining stars above my head that blink in time to Gaga’s “Edge of Glory” while spelling out “Kt—Ph.D…Kt—Ph.D.”

Which leads me to secret #2: The Dissertation Twenty

Everyone has heard of the freshmen fifteen, and I’ve witnessed it sneakin’ up on plenty of good folks; however, I never gained it. No, it’s not like I’m special—I was a swimmer so whatever I put into my mouth was burned off (just in case you might not believe me: I was a mid-distance swimmer, which means I could swim anywhere from 12, 000-18,000 yards a day. That’s a lotta calories. I mean I could totally drink four, five, even six real Pespi’s in a day and not think anything of it.
;-). So I never had the pleasure of gaining the weight. I never gained weight during my master’s program either (though I might note that I’m not a superwomen…I have gained weight before. Try retiring from swimming after 13 years and not understanding you can’t eat everything/anything in the same frequency that you once did). But let’s fast-forward to the Ph.D and welcome the dissertation twenty. Ok, I didn’t actually gain 20lbs, but it feels like I gained 20lbs—I’m short the weight has no where to go. The weight has slowly but surely crept up on me within the last two years. And I’m not the only one that it has happened to. I have several friends (both young and old; newly minted Ph.Ds and seasoned veteran Ph.Ds) that agree that this happens. Stress makes people eat and some people eat while they work/write. And let's not forget what a dissertation entails: sitting, sitting, and more sitting. Not only are you sedentary, but some people snack while they work. Like me. I tend to feel like I need to snack my way through a writing project. Um, 265 pages later there is additional weight on my body. I should have counted the snacks I ingested throughout the process (and the Dt. Cokes). Plus I, for the record, really enjoy food—one will probably never refer to me as a dainty eater. So, here I sit. Ph.D in hand, but a pudgier version of myself. You might not notice, but I notice (and for that matter so does the scale). Plus, I’m on the verge of moving to a city that is constantly ranked among the top five “fittest” cities in the nation. Uh, yikes. Good thing I’m moving there—motivation.

Two secrets. Two things to learn. One, I think, is easier to handle than the other. I know I’m different—bright and shiny in my own way—even without the twinkling stars above my head. The other can be avoided. So take note soon-to-be-dissertating followers and beware of the dissertation twenty.

Step One: Check

Step One: Check (oh, heck yes!).

3 years and 3 months ago, I made a decision that has lead up today: I decided on my dissertation topic.

It was a little over five months into my first year at FSU, and there were a lot of things going on in my life. On the same day I turned 27, I presented at a conference in Santa Barbara, figured out my dissertation topic, and my mom had brain surgery. Yes, brain surgery. I debated back and forth with my mom at the time whether I should make the trip to Santa Barbara because it meant I would miss her surgery, but she insisted that I should go. I did and after watching a presentation by a little know rhet/comp scholar (ahem, Yancey) present on the topic of transfer, I was sold. Completely. The topic just made sense to me especially after teaching and working with the students that I had in the past two years. I, as a composition instructor, had something I could give students that they could take with them into their education: a knowledge about writing something that, whether they wanted to admit it or not, would help them in their future. I sat for two hours on a bench (in the cold…whoever said southern California doesn’t get cold…lied) after listening to the talk and sketched out ideas for a research project with transfer. Of course the project morphed and changed along the way, but almost 3 and half years later I took my idea, turned it into a research project, and handed in my dissertation to that same little know scholar. Isn’t it crazy how life turns out sometimes?

Step One is complete in the last part of the journey to complete my PhD, and it feels weird—exciting—but weird. All of my blog posts about writing, or lack of writing, the journey is slowly winding down. Not that there isn’t a lot more to do before it’s “official” but let’s just say it felt official when I handed it off today to my committee members. I couldn’t help but grin a wickedly wide grin.

I.turned.in.my.dissertation. Holy crap.

No clever words today for this blog post. No funny stories. No melodramatic pauses.

No. Today I turned in my dissertation, and it just felt/feels darn good.

An Attitude of Exellence

When did decision-making become so difficult?

Gone are the days when the hardest decision was whether to sit with your best friend or your brother at lunch (just for the record: I might have picked my best friend over my brother for a few years, but in my defense…who makes rationale decisions as a 13 year old?!?).

Gone are the days when you wake up in the morning and have an internal battle: do I wear the vibrant purple eye shadow or the electric blue eye shadow, and more importantly, do I match my outfit to my eye shadow (I was always more of a purple girl and perhaps I did match an outfit or two with my eye shadow...and occasionally still do).

Gone are the days when you need to decide whether to be a swimmer or a dancer (obviously many know the decision I made, though, I tend to try and relive my dancin’ days when I have the chance—whether it be an impromptu dance party with JLO or on the table of a bourbon bar in Louisville ;-).

Although these decisions growing up seemed difficult--really they weren’t. But today I long for those days; I want to let myself drift backwards, only for a moment, and cover myself in those memories when decision-making revolved around friends, sports, and fashion.

Strangely (or un-strangely, I guess, if you are anticipating it), the last year as PhD student has more decisions than you could care to imagine and many of them come in the last six months. I’m currently in decision-making mode. Some of the decisions are obvious: no, Kara, you should not go to the baseball game on Sunday because your dissertation is not finished. Some of the decisions are not that obvious and require lists—lots and lots of lists. As mentioned in a previous post, I am a list-creating queen. I make lists to make lists. But the lists don’t make the decisions for you (nor, for that matter, does your dog though I have tried for three days to get Trini’s opinion on a writing matter. For the moment I’m taking the silence as confirmation of what I’m doing is moving in the right direction). And neither does anyone else as much as you might want them to. No, the decisions are all you.

But—what if I make the wrong decision? Will my dissertation fail? Will I be happy in that city? Will I learn from my writing mistakes? Will I be able to continue my research? Will I…make it?

My mom has always encouraged me that before a decision can be made you need to do three things: (1) you need to make sure you are informed (which includes list-making); (2) you need to pray; and (3) you need to maintain an attitude of excellence. The hardest of the three is maintaining an attitude of excellence because it forces you to believe in your decision-making ability when all you really want to do it doubt it (or crawl under a cozy blanket and ran away from it).

Currently my attitude of excellence is wavering a bit—kinda floating right outside my peripheral vision and giggling a girlish giggle at my state of indecisiveness. What I want (er need) to do is give her a good flick and rein her back in. Because decisions need to be made.

But instead, for this moment, I'm going to wrap the memories of my 13 yr old self around me like a cozy blanket and just sit on it a bit.

The Campus Interview

The Campus Interview: a 15 hour Date

Imagine: you’ve just landed a date with someone you’ve had your eye on for some time now. He’s smart and funny with sexy bedroom eyes, and he doesn’t mind a hard-core woman. He tells you he’ll pick you up at 9… am that is for a nice leisurely breakfast. Fast-forward to 9 pm. The date is still going strong; your real smile faded four hours ago sometime before dinner began. You're fidgeting because the boots you have on have lost their comfort appeal and now are just causing a blister (whoever said flats don't cause blisters...lied). Now he’s offering you slow-roasted coffee and lavender ice cream (who can turn down lavender ice cream?!?), and it takes all of your will not to massage the dull ache in your neck (don’t want to give away that tension has built up!). Finally he smiles and asks if you are ready to go (mentally you break out your best running man), you smile (your first real smile in five hours) and say you've had fabulous day and you can’t imagine where the day has gone.

The campus interview is unlike any interview you have ever done, and it seems very much like a day-long date because of its date-like qualities: questions about yourself, dinner that includes dessert, and coffee (and how do you like your coffee). You also dress in your best (conservative but respectful; trendy but not too over the top), constantly check your breath, re-apply lip gloss (or chapstick since traveling tends to dry out your lips), and don’t ever over-eat in front of the other party. You ask personal, yet appropriate, questions. You listen attentively and smile and smile and smile and smile. Smiling, as we all know from experience, is key in establishing personal relationships because they are very revealing. Pay attention to the smiles. ;-)

Something that is not date-like (or if it is that’s just creepy and don’t tell anyone you do it)—researching your "date" so that you know them/it inside and out. I have gone into the campus interviews knowing what the other faculty members look like, what they teach, what and where their degrees are from, and really anything else I can pull from a quick Google search. Once I mentioned that a person had gotten her hair cut and she looked at me funny and said “how did I know that?” (Oops. Gave myself away.)

And don’t kid yourself: it’s as mentally challenging as it is physically challenging. The hardest part is you have to be “on” for such a long time your “on” can get jilted, wilted, and winded...

Your smile wavers a bit. Your handshake is not as firm as it was ten hours ago. You drink one too many Dt. Cokes so that now your chest muscles quiver from ingesting so much caffeine. You might even forget how to pronounce your last name (totally true—one of my campus interviews I must have got caught up in the moment…). You blank on what side of Ohio you hail from (I apparently have many issues with the difference between east and west directions). You learn you have an accent that gives away that you hail from northeastern Ohio (who knew?!?). And most importantly, you might even begin to doubt your research even makes sense because you’ve said it so many times to so many different people in so many different ways. Transfer/Reflection--what??

The campus interview is as much of a whirlwind romance as the first date can be. They show you their best; you show them yours.

As you are there you have lots to take in—the people, the school, the program/department, the city, the food, the culture. You have to try and decide in that two day experience if the job is offered: can you imagine yourself there—working, teaching, living, and playing.

Sometimes when the morning after arrives and the date...er...faculty member picks you up for your ride to the airport; you stumble into the car with your hair piled on top of your head, glasses on, barely a lick of make-up, and it feels like each of you are deciding: should there be a second date? And honestly you are as much a part of that decision as the person driving you toward home.

Downpours and Rainbows

If you want the rainbow, you’ve got to put with the rain. ---Dolly Parton

The rain was fallin’ for me in March (as can probably be noted in my earlier posts), and it kept coming and going in downpours. It wasn’t a bad month, per say, but it was definitely a month where there was a lot of questioning and wondering: is this dissertation going to keep moving forward? Will I get a job? Can I keep up with my workload? Am I ever going to be able to wear a heel again (ok, so perhaps the last question isn’t as important as the others but still 3 months later I’m dying to put on my highest, sassiest pair and strut like I’ve never strutted before…)? The thing with questioning and wondering it leaves you standing in the downpour, no umbrella, mascara running down your face, feeling insecure and useless, so you gotta do your best to embrace the downpours as they come because whether you admit it or not they are a part of this process.

Recently I was having a conversation and someone said to me, “ok you’ve got 7 minutes to be negative and talk about your dissertation/job search.” I was kinda taken back by this statement. Having not lived the same experiences I have lived in the last 7 months I believe that is an unfair characterization of how I’ve dealt with/am dealing with everything (plus I don’t really view myself as a negative person. Case in point: I’ve won two awards in my lifetime for being motivating—you can’t really be a motivating person and be negative. ;-) The thing is, and if I’m being honest, the last year of your PhD is not easy and saying that it’s not easy doesn’t make it a negative statement—it makes it real. I believe in being real because I want to try and help others for when they reach their last year in the PhD. But here's the truth: I can write as many blog posts as I want about it, and I’m not sure anyone can truly be prepared until they live it, breathe it, and really dig in deep to everything that is a part of year 4. Rain, downpours, sometimes even wicked thunder storms become embedded in this last year.

But where there is rain there can be a rainbow...

So, yes, there were some downpours in the month of March for me but as March slid into April I’ve stumbled onto several rainbows. I’ve had five new interviews and been offered a position from a previous place I’ve interviewed with. I’m hoping that out of the new interviews that I’m able to go and do a campus interview at least one of them because here’s the thing: I’ve been questioning and wondering but up until this point none of the jobs I’ve interviewed for were exactly “right” for me and even though that was a hard lesson to learn it’s enabled me to become a much better interviewer (dude! I’ve got my research done cold! =) and has given me a confidence about my research/dissertation that I didn’t have before (and that has definitely helped feed into my dissertation writing).

See the funny thing about this last year of you PhD (and to use a cliché) you just never know what tomorrow holds. Could be a rejection or three. Could be a job offer. Could be a major break in #4. As my mother has told me since I was old enough to remember (and yes she sings it): the sun will come out tomorrow…and sometimes brings with it a rainbow.