to be fair...

I guess there's a more profound reason I'm so resentful of my advisor essentially telling me my thesis is basically dead to him (see previous post--it is sort of a funny story, in my opinion), beyond that he doesn't believe in me. Honestly, that's fine. Looking at it objectively, I can't criticize him for telling me, essentially, I'm not giving enough time to the thing I'm also ranting about not mattering that much and not being worth that much of my time. So that's not the problem; in fact, dwelling on the substance of the remark, which has some truth to it, is obscuring the real problem. What bothers me about that conversation is a feature endemic to academia, at least as it seems to be practiced today: in a culture that values intelligence and performance as much as just about any field, people are too hung up on an ethos of PC egalitarianism that says you have to support everyone in everything they try to do. It's the college-age equivalent of "Everyone's special!!!!" and it's everywhere in the faculty-student dynamic. I have never once been discouraged from doing anything remotely academic at this school; the worst I have ever received is essentially the "I support you, but can't myself help you" brush-off I got when trying out that first thesis topic (see two or three posts ago).

So: Listen, PhDs, I'm twenty-one years old. I've been rejected before, by potential employers, women, volunteer organizations, for awards, sports teams, peer leadership votes, and dances. Telling me that an idea I have, a project I'm interested in, a course I want to take, or a topic for a paper really just sucks isn't going to shatter my fragile postadolescent self-confidence. Okay, sometimes, people can get touchy, like when I spurned your classes for a week when you rejected my Watson proposal, my baby. But that reaction is in many ways a product of a system that is so chock-full of encouragement and a feeling of entitlement that I felt like 1. my idea was great, like you, Prof. Mayes, told me not a week before the interview and 2. I was entitled to win something because I was just so great. Being unprepared for what was, honestly, a predictable result (the odds of getting one are terrible) is pretty stupid, and I definitely got goaded into it by the overwhelming positive feedback all the faculty here are so effusive in giving. And maybe I got a little pissy at the Dean's office when they refused to disclose why my proposal for summer research got shot down last spring. But that has more to do with the fact that the woman in charge still hasn't returned the simple email or phone message I left asking for either an explanation or a statement that the reasons for my rejection were entirely confidential. Instead, I was deflected to a faculty member, who also tried to evade giving me a direct answer. The real criminal here wasn't the rejection, it was the bureaucratic mentality that didn't want to tell me that I just wasn't good enough, or possibly that they had been tipped off not to accept me so that I'd take the program in Penn State, part of a last attempt to direct me toward math grad school--the sort of conspiracy theory that can only result from feeling lied to.

Thus: not everyone is going to be the best at something. Some people aren't cut out for some disciplines. You don't always have to dangle grad school as a tacit vote of confidence in my potential if I just stick with it. Honestly, I spent enough time being built up as a child, just as almost everyone else in my generation did, that I can stand/have stood to learn more from rejection than from the effusive but faint praise that washes over me, a rising tide of empty promises that has left me feeling a little bit adrift, directionless once I leave the safe harbor, the insular atmosphere of "you can do anything!" In other words, all those empty compliments make any real ones you have for me feel just as flimsy--encouraging me to do everything has left me feeling like nothing has stood out as *the one*, the subject/career/idea I can follow for the rest of my life. So thanks. At least I feel okay about my ability to write a sociology paper, right?

Yay, progress

This finally did end up being the weekend during which I got some long-term stuff done. The room? cleaned up, more open-feeling. Absentee ballot? filled out, looking good. Math thesis? off to a substantive start, finally have some tips on how to format stuff. Reading? not caught up, per se, but at least on top of what needs to happen day-to-day. I also got my sleep schedule reset (up at 9 this morning), finally made it to target (so I won't run out of shaving cream), and did dim sum.

I can't get overwhelmed by optimism, though. The history thesis is looking more like the thing they were right to recommend I start last spring. Changing the topic to something which, granted, I will actually enjoy writing about doesn't mean the process will be easy. I also had the chance to meet with my advisor last thursday, at which time he said, "I was 90% sure you were gonna come in today and tell me you weren't going to write a thesis anymore." After I protested, since I was just hoping to discuss its progress with him, he said, "Well, at least it had to cross your mind, didn't it?" Thanks for the vote of confidence. You know, people sometimes ask me why I've grown so resentful of academia. Times like this, it's hard to remember that there was a time I wasn't. This isn't the only reason, in case you just wanted to tell me I need a different advisor (which maybe I do); the career advice I've received from professors is as follows:
1. have you thought about grad school? oh, ok, no, I understand, so...
2. maybe take a year off and then look at grad school? oh, that's why you don't want to go, then...
3. are you applying for any fellowships? yeah, I agree, they're a longshot; you need a backup plan like...
4. try teaching english somewhere in Asia? well, no, I don't think they really address student loan debt, so...
5. teach for america is hiring, have you looked into that? you know, I think a lot of people are just intimidated by teaching. I think you'd do fine, but if you really do want a job somewhere...
6. good luck.
Admittedly, this is what you get for asking for career advice from someone who stayed in school (uninterrupted) until the age of 35.

Other than this sort of whirlpool of academia (thesis, lack of any sort of concrete ideas for next year beyond 3 and 4), into which I feel inexoribly drawn, things are going pretty well. I'm getting the grading back under control, dealing with real issues at work, and through the combination of the two, subsidizing going out to eat a couple times a week. That food is a major factor in my retention of psychological equilibrium; I also have really grown to love my time in the car as part of my commute--when you let go and don't try to fight the traffic, it's time to relax a little, sing along with the radio, call an old friend, or just have some quiet time to think. The American urban system, predicated on car ownership and commute time, shows its strength at times like these--although I enjoyed being able to read on the subway in DC or Budapest, that space is pretty definitively public. There's nothing quite like that feeling of... empowerment, almost, from being in *your* car, controlling your reality with practiced hand, choosing *your* destination/destiny, and sitting back with the serenity that, try as you might to beat the traffic you're in, the time you'll gain is negligible compared with the quality of time you lose.

the last couple weeks have gone by really quickly

Part of which is a result of an extended school-related burnout. About a week after that last entry, I had the Watson interview, which really put me on edge--I missed a day of work at my internship so I could make it to the time slot, it really stressed me out, and I definitely felt after like I didn't get a chance to talk about what I'd really wanted to while I'd had to scramble to answer a lot of marginal logistics questions. The next morning, I got an email about two minutes after I left for my morning class--I was rejected. The post-Watson rejection hangover lasted almost a week, including all of fall break. I didn't go to any of my classes for the rest of the week, slept a lot, and caught up on some movies. Over fall break, I slept a lot, failed to shave regularly, etc. I missed more classes the thursday and friday after we got back, leading into this weekend, though I did manage to produce a shocking quantity of writing (though not necessarily writing of quality) between wednesday night and thursday afternoon. Now, it's sunday night, I slept five hours extra today beyond what I had planned, and the promises I made at the end of last week about what would be done by monday do not appear to be coming to fruition.

This was supposed to be the weekend I finished putting stuff up on my walls, the weekend I got the piles of old papers (financial, school, random, important) organized and filed, the weekend I started going to the gym regularly again, the weekend I stuck to a regular sleep schedule, the weekend I was even supposed to start wearing my retainer again after god only knows how long. Um, I did get laundry done, and I did manage to take part in a successful AAMP field trip to the "part asian, 100% hapa" exhibition at the Japanese American National Museum (http://www.janm.org/exhibits/kipfulbeck/home); since I'd been a few weeks ago with Kristy, I found my own little Polaroid and statement of identity tacked on the wall, which was an awesome feeling, even though I still think I look kinda goofy in the picture. And I did get to eat mochi ice cream, which is amazing.

Part of the shift or trend of the past couple weeks has been away from school-related stuff, which can be problematic (i.e. stuff is still due), but which I think is more rewarding. I feel like most of what I'm doing in either department (history and math) is pretty useless--sophistry in the sense of "that thing Socrates hated." Meanwhile, the internship is getting good--I've started working with and advocating for actual clients--which makes the reading and critiquing of texts even less fulfilling.

That's all I got for now (some ideas are floating around, though, to be addressed later this week). Oh, and I just not five minutes ago remembered where I put the power and USB cables for my printer, which had been sitting on the corner of my desk inert since I moved in in August. It had frustrated me on and off for months, and something triggered me to remember I ingeniously wrapped them around each other and stowed them in the casing by the ink cartridge. So no more stupid trips to Andrews to print stuff. And I feel a little less like I'm hopelessly lost in an edifice of forgotten important stuff. So yay for that.

my new internship, my 47th post(!)

So it took probably more than a year (I haven't really kept track), but I've reached the magic number: 47 entries. Part of me says, "quit now! start a new blog! preserve this unto perpetuity!" But I'm probably not going to. Anyway, I thought a little celebration was in order, so: 47! largest prime less than 50! pomona's lucky number for some reason! and so on.

I also have some other things to say right now, too.

First off, I started my internship at Legal Aid in east LA this week; I've been in monday and today like 10-4ish. So far, it's been interesting: the people are nice, the work is worthwhile, and so on. The kicker, though, is the lunches. Freshman year, I got fixated for some reason on the critically-lauded fish taco mecca Tacos Baja Ensenada. I never actually made it all the way out to wherever it was (my sense of regional geography at that point being fairly unrefined), but the idea of living so close to such amazing food made me feel good about the city of LA in general. First day of work, my supervisor asks me where I want to go for lunch, and I mention something about missing real Mexican food horribly this summer and hearing east LA is a pretty good area for tacos. She gets excited, and recommends this little place, maybe a block away, for tacos. Well, surprise! It is, lo and behold, Tacos Baja Ensenada. And it's just as good as advertised. I've been there for lunch both days I've worked (and I normally skip lunch), and it has been nothing short of heavenly. Wednesdays are even better: it's $.99 taco day, so today I got three fish tacos and a jamaica for less than $5. Although I hope to do some more east LA restaurant exploration this fall (I hear there's a place nearby on Olympic that has really good al pastor), I think I could be happy if I could just have Tacos Baja Ensenada every day--eating perfectly fried fish and cabbage in homemade tortillas with an horchata and a crossword while sitting in the sun on Whittier Blvd is hard to beat.

The commute is bad, but not lethal. This afternoon, stuck for half an hour in traffic that never stopped moving yet somehow never went faster than about 7mph, I finally understood why people in LA don't drive a stick. On the plus side, my left leg will be pretty nicely toned by the end of the semester with all the clutchwork. Also, sitting in the car with nothing to do and nobody to carpool with is a great time to call all those people you're barely in touch with but wish you talked with more often. Only now apparently California is considering making talking on the phone in the car illegal. I feel like this makes sense on surface streets, but, honestly, it's not like driving in stop-and-go-never-above-second-gear traffic is that hard. In fact, it can get so monotonous, part of me def wants to pull out the NYT crossword and work on it on the dashboard, which is way more distracting. So there.

Food thesis is already shaping up better than the legal access one. Missed first classes/assignment of the semester tuesday, but I think I have more perspective than I used to. Still in love with the Watson proposal. Annnnnnd, I think that's all for now.