The Thud Heard Around the World
Oh graduate school–it’s a mystery. It’s a menace. It’s my life. What am I doing? This past month has been absolutely nutty. First, the backstory. It was the sweet autumnal air of October that jolted me into a realization that, in order to continue to eat and sleep in this lovely apartment I now rent, I would have to apply for this dissertation fellowship due in January. Now, in real life, that seems almost absurdly far-forward thinking. In academia, I was already severely behind. Thus I commenced getting on my horse and writing these papers that have been torturing me for over a year.
My progress was good, by the holidays I was still on target–life was looking up. And then came January. Oh wicked winter month of January. I cut my holidays short, I got my self back to Chicago and I hunkered down. In two weeks I procured two final drafts and one “really good” first draft of a dissertation proposal which was scheduled for January 21st. After a good but reality-inducing meeting with my dissertation director (who is new and who replaced my old one that announced he was leaving the university in July), we decided–upon the advice of other faculty–that moving the defense back wouldn’t have that much effect on the fellowship application…thus, the defense was pushed back, the application turned in. And I could finally breathe again.
That was for 3 blissful days.
This afternoon I returned to an e-mail from the evil trolls at the graduate school. They flatly rejected my fellowship application–that’s right, the one I broke my back working to get in on time. [THUD]. “What?!? Why?” you might wonder. Well, because I didn’t have my dissertation proposal done–you remember, the one we postponed on the advice that it wouldn’t be that big a deal.
Awesome.
And so, here’s my reflection today. It’s surprisingly not gripey–frankly, I knew this would happen and I am not at all surprised by the bad advice, the incredibly rude e-mail I got informing me of this decision (which also told me I could come and pick up my application at the graduate school to get it off their hands…well, thanks Graduate School…you guys are great), or the fact that I’m now on my own again to figure out how to keep living. No, my reflection is on my complete lack of panic.
If this graduate experience has taught me one life skill worth talking about (and on days like today I feel this might be the only one), it’s the complete control of my knee jerk panic. I have no doubt this will work out. I have no idea how. I don’t even know where to begin. But this is the 6th year in a row I face this situation in February. And miraculously, something works out. And so, I just think it will. That could mean it won’t…but I don’t think that. I don’t know if the options I think I have will end up being the saving grace. I suspect something else will pop up. It just will.
And after this degree is firmly in my little paws, I’ll reflect on the degree to which the universe is telling me to get the hell out of sociology. It’s becoming hard to deny. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me six times–something is just not right here.
But that reflection will have to wait for awhile. For now, Mrs. Katie’s gotta go get a job.