#grad student problems

I have been working on a case study for one of my graduate classes for about two and a half months now. I’m working with Beowulf - yay medieval – however, despite my incredible interest in the depictions of women throughout the poem (especially Grendel’s mother), I continue to hit road block after road block. My original idea was so overdone that within an hour of beginning my research, I had to abandon it. From there, I read and read attempting to inspire an idea or original thought. Nothing.

Every time I feel the muse of literary studies has struck, I get this incredibly excited feeling and run back to the databases for some focused research – only to find that someone has beaten me to it and already published an article with my same thesis. Boo. So much for original thought. I’m sure the fact of Beowulf‘s immense popularity in English studies is no help for me right now, and I fear that I will read and read and read and never see anything that hasn’t already been seen. Is there a light at the end of this tunnel?

In some sense, I feel like this problem is a microcosm of the larger experience of PhD study. Doctoral students hunt and hunt and hunt to make a tiny contribution to the collection of human knowledge, a tiny bump at the edge of the collected work of billions who have gone before them. It can be discouraging (and I’m not even looking for a dissertation-worthy new idea, just a measly little conference paper idea). Scary. Yet, I suppose that part of the enjoyment comes from the frustration – the desire to leave my own mark (however tiny) in the field I’ve chosen to dedicate my life to. No one thinks exactly like I do, so eventually, my mind will notice something someone else hasn’t. Eventually it will happen, and my tiny bump will begin to form. I may not see it yet, but much like my attitude toward gaining admittance to a PhD program, I feel that life and fate will guide my thoughts. I believe that it will happen, that I can change the world, that I will find what I need to continue.

On that note, I’m back to the databases for some reading. Wish me luck and creative thoughts.

Scaredy Cat.

You know that nagging feeling that tells you you could be doing so much more with your life? That little voice that’s always in the back of your head? I’ve been trying to kill mine for a while now. I thought I’d succeeded, and maybe I did…. maybe more likely I just scared it away for a little while.

However, I think he sent in his evil twin brother as backup – that nagging little feeling that tells me maybe the reason I’m not doing more with my life is that I can’t, that I’m not good enough, that I can try, but I’ll only fail.

I want my old voice back. Old nagging “you’re being lazy; do something worthwhile and stop procrastinating” voice, please come back to me. I’d take you over crippling self-doubt any day.

William Shakespeare wrote: ”Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt” (Measure for Measure). This simple idea rings so true, especially for me, a girl afraid of everything, even my own dreams.

I recently started a book that I’m hoping will change my life (or at least inspire me to change it myself), and I came across this passage:

They liked to talk about their dreams, but in the end, they left them just as dreams. They didn’t know …. that dreams are in fact realities waiting to happen. But they don’t wait forever.At some point you have to help them make the transition. Or eventually, they just fade away.

– John Strelecky, Life Safari

Again, true words. And they made me realize that being scared is silly, that I may fail, but failing would be so much better than sitting by and letting my dreams “just fade away.” I can deal with failure; I’m tried and true on that front. I’m not so sure I’d ever be able to cope with allowing my dreams to die. I don’t want to find out the answer to Langston Hughes’ age-old question.

It won’t happen overnight, and I’ll probably still be scared a lot. But, at least I won’t have to say I never tried.

“Disturbed” is a good word.

For all you English majors out there (or any of you who cite following MLA guidelines):

I am deeply disturbed by the new 7th edition requirement that block quotes be kept double spaced. I’ve been living with this change for a little while, expecting that I’d get used to it. Well, that hasn’t happened. I still feel like I’m cheating, like I’m adding pages to my paper by citing double spaced passages of verse. I mean, the lines don’t even make it to my right margin! It looks so… spacey.

While I don’t have my handy-dandy MLA Guidebook with me at the library today, I give you this passage from the Purdue OWL:

For quotations that extend to more than four lines of verse or prose, place quotations in a free-standing block of text and omit quotation marks. Start the quotation on a new line, with the entire quote indented one inch from the left margin; maintain double-spacing. Only indent the first line of the quotation by a half inch if you are citing multiple paragraphs. Your parenthetical citation should come after the closing punctuation mark. When quoting verse, maintain original line breaks. (You should maintain double-spacing throughout your essay.)

I am not happy. I don’t often use long quotes, but when I feel the need to, I don’t want them taking up half my page… Gross.

Inspiration.

I first saw this video about a year ago, but I found myself drawn back to it recently. Perhaps I’m feeling that my life’s work needs some direction. Anyway, I always find Elizabeth Gilbert‘s talk enchanting and inspiring. She’s the author of Eat, Pray, Love, and here’s what she’s got to say about creativity:

Elizabeth Gilbert on Nurturing Creativity

Fortunes.

Desire Path via TransLeadership

Tonight my family and I went out to get Chinese for dinner. After dinner we all opened and shared our fortunes with one another. They made us smile and chuckle and tease one another, but with my family these are pretty common occurrences anyway. Reading my fortune (“Every good friend was once a stranger.”) and hearing my parents delight in “how perfect it is for me right now” reminded me that life has a funny way of steering us back to the paths we need to follow and encouraging us when we’re feeling helpless and a little lost. I recently read a post about “desire paths,” and the idea fascinated me. The post I read talked about education and creating connected, digital classrooms, but my own musings focused on the broader interpretation – the idea that we can go through this life living the life others tell us to lead or we can simply create our own ways. It’s as easy as stepping off that comfortable, safe, paved pathway – the acceptable pathway, the one on which we’re supposed to stay.  We can admire the grass, but we dare not walk through it. The post I read spoke of Walt Disney and his views on desire paths, but I am reminded of a quote by one of my favorite authors:

“Do not go where the path may lead; go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

It seems clichéd and simple, but so often we forget how easy it is to become trapped in societal and family standards.  Others, who may truly have our best interests at heart, want certain things for us.  They believe they know best, that they are looking out for us, but in reality, the constant pressure to remain on the “acceptable” path can be stifling.  It can force even the guards on the King’s College lawns to set foot upon the grass, to walk where there is no path. Perhaps the best and the healthiest thing any one of us can do is to break free of that restriction, to finally untie the bonds that hold us where others believe we should be.  People may call us crazy at first, but eventually, they may understand.  Eventually, they may pave our paths. My path.

A lamp and a plan.

In an effort to keep myself busy over the past few days I’ve spent at my parents’ house, I’ve once again taken up my crafting habit.  I also had several in-the-works projects I needed to finish before they were ready to be packed away for the big move.  I finally finished up two of the four throw pillows I was making and also made a lamp just for fun. I’m quite impressed with the outcome of all three items and can’t wait to try my hand at a few more one-step-above-basic projects.

My dad also helped me plan out the arrangement of my new apartment.  I feel like I should explain that my father and I have been fascinated with architecture for years.  One of the best memories I have of growing up is drawing floor plans on graph paper with my dad.  I have a whole binder full of dream houses from different stages of my life.  Needless to say, we had both the materials and basic skills to make a rather detailed plan.

I’m pretty excited about the way it turned it out.  I was starting to become a little terrified of the move, but now that I can see something tangible and I can feel like I’ve worked out at least one tiny part of the puzzle, my excitement is beating out the terror.  Things will work out okay after all.  The other day I heard that Andy Grammer song “Keep Your Head Up” on the radio, and a few lyrics stuck out to me as I was driving home:

I’m buyin in the skeptics,
Skeptics mess with the confidence in my eyes.
I’m seeing all the angles start to get tangled
I start to compromise
My life and the purpose.
Is it all worth it?
Am I gonna turn out fine?

The other day these lyrics resonated with me, and I gave in once again to my fears.  I started to wonder if this crazy path I’ve chosen, pursuing an esoteric field and a position in academia that may be hitting its expiration point soon, is worth it.  Then tonight after dinner with some old family friends who asked me all about my new school and campus and my crazy, wacky love for what I study, I realized that I could talk to them about my passion all night.  They just answer with blank stares and nods most of the time as I go off on some tangent about an obscure poem I read or about an idea I had for my Master’s thesis.  Everyone tells me that they can see how happy I am and how much I love what I do all the time.  I guess I never realize because I never feel like I’m working when I’m doing what I love.  I feel like society has taught me that work is supposed to feel onerous and painful, but I’ve never felt like that while dissecting the use of medieval motifs in Harry Potter or while reading Shakespeare or while learning Middle English.  I’ve never felt like I’m working or killing myself to get a paycheck.  I find myself going back to it, reading articles, finding new books and authors to investigate, during my down time.  And that, right there, is when the rest of the song’s lyrics hit me:

This is just a journey
Drop your worries
You are gonna turn out fine.
Oh, you’ll turn out fine.
Fine, oh, you’ll turn out fine.

Nothing like a good book.

Now that I have a summer of free time staring at me, I suddenly have a desire to revisit some good books I’ve enjoyed over the years.  I used to read all the time, but somehow, over the last four years, I’ve lost sight of this focus.  As an English Literature graduate student (wow… It still feels bizarre to call myself that), I feel like a summer dedicated to reading is a great way to prepare myself for a whirlwind two years.  I have a few favorites in mind to start with and a few books I’ve picked up over the last few weeks, months (eek), that I want to finish, but I’m unsure how to proceed with the rest of my list.  I have a pretty extensive collection of classics on my bookshelf at home, many of which I’ve been planning on reading for a while, but where to start?

I’ve never really been a huge fan of many great American writers, strange I know, as an American, but for some reason the Brits seem to strike my fancy a little bit more effectively.  So, do I start there, or do I accept the fact that I am going to be studying British literature for the rest of my life and, therefore, dedicate my summer to reading the great American novels I have missed in my pursuit of misty moors and snobby aristocrats and dreary London?

Books are so crazy in a way.  I can carry around whole worlds and time periods in my purse.  Crazy.  They never tell me to come back later or schedule any black out dates.  A book will always love me.  I know my poor neglected copies of Sula and Hard Times and Anna Karenina will still be more than willing to spend some quality time together even though I haven’t looked at them in over a year…. or two.

So, summer project: read.  Read often and read much.  Read for fun and read for knowledge.  Read inside, outside, in the rain and in the sun.  Many of my friends have dedicated their summers to spending some quality time at the beach.  I should probably have joined this trend too.  Last night, I made the mistake of typing “Seton Hall campus winter” into a Google search.  Scary.  I’m still shivering just thinking about it; however, I have decided that Orlando is not the most beach-friendly city.  Reading it is.

Now for the plan:

First, the books I’ve started and have yet to finish.

1. Eat, Pray, Love - Elizabeth Gilbert

My best friend gave me this book for my birthday…. in August.  I was so excited to start reading it, ready to let Elizabeth Gilbert’s voyage of self discovery fill me up and rescue me from my own terror about my life and the future and missing out on life experiences.  I was.  I promise.  However, life got in the way as it always seems to do, and I just started a few weeks ago.  I’m already about 1/3 of the way through.  She’s done the eating.  I’m about to enter the praying portion.  I have loved every bit of her story so far: her adventure, her sense of self-confidence even in the midst of a life that seems to be falling apart, her writing and the way it takes me on a journey through each sentence, the way it captures my sense of comfort and adventure at the same time.  Everything.  So, first and foremost, I will finish this book.  :)

2. The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde

I started this book sometime in…… November, maybe.  I hadn’t read much Wilde in the past, but he had come highly recommended by so many of my friends.  After mentioning it about a hundred times, I received a copy of this book from my parents for Christmas two years ago.  Sadly, even with all my good intentions of reading it immediately, thesis research and full-time teaching and whatever other handy excuses I can list got in the way, and I never opened it.  This November, I decided I needed something to save me from the stress of my constant thesis work, so I decided to finally visit the famed words of Oscar Wilde, and I was not disappointed.  I found myself underlining and starring line after line.  I carried Oscar with me to the lake, the park, the mall, class, the library.  Everywhere.  I loved his simple yet elegant writing, but somehow, one day, he was evicted from my bag to make room for thesis research and never found his way back.  Until now.

Next, the ones I’ve read and loved or have meant to read and love for a while.

3. Wuthering Heights - Emily Brontë

Yet another I’ve been meaning to revisit.  I skimmed through this one in high school, got a jist of the story, and moved on.  I was intimidated.  I had read Jane Eyre after all and was not ready to repeat that experience any time soon.  So what if this one was written by the other sister?  How could it possibly be better?  Now, I see that I probably did myself a disservice.  I never should have thumbed through, broken the magic of an undiscovered story.  Now, I am dedicated to reading it all the way through, word for word.  Hopefully Emily will not disappoint me.

4. The Catcher in the Rye - J. D. Salinger

Of course I’ve read this one already.  Of course I’ve fallen in love with this book already.  It might seem silly to spend my time, my limited free time, rereading when I have so many books on my shelf I’ve never opened, but I can’t help it.  I simply cannot let Holden have all the fun on his own.  Something about this story spoke to me the first time I read it.  Something about it helped me realize that I had to dedicate my life to studying the words and stories and recorded experiences of others, fictional or not.  Sometimes I believe Holden and I are kindred souls.  We’re both desperately searching for our places in the world, clinging to what feels comfortable while truly hating those who exist rather than live.  So what do I say to the people who call my silly for this crazy plan?  …. Phonies.

5. The Complete Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

While this exact anthology is sitting on my shelf at home, I have to admit that I probably won’t read the whole thing.  Not immediately anyway.  I will probably break it up with other delightful literary adventures, but I do want to begin.  Holmes has got to be one of the most quintessential characters of all time.  I need to at least meet him.  Besides, it’s such a beautiful book, how can I leave it neglected any longer?  Also, who doesn’t love a good mystery story?

So those are the five I have in my plan for now.  For some, that might seem adequate, but I have a feeling I will need more.  I guess I’ll see where my desires take me.  I have a shelf full of worlds, experiences, characters, and opportunities.  Let the adventure begin.

Everything, everything will be alright.

Theme song?

I was planning on posting the official music video, but then I remembered it’s a little weird with lots of people in their underwear for no reason.  This version, while less professional, emphasizes the lyrics which have hit home for me lately.  Enjoy.  The song sums up my mental state right now.  It’s a good thing.

I love how music can do that sometimes, express everything I want to in so few words, so few minutes.  Moments and occasions like that, when a song just really fits, you know, make me believe that we are all more connected than we think.  As a student of literature, I know it’s true.  We all share the same basic drives and desires.  I’m re-reading The Diary of Anne Frank before teaching it to my eighth graders at the end of the week, and I realized today just how powerful shared emotion can be.  How can a teenager’s words written years ago continue to inspire and affect so many people so profoundly?  How can her experience, so removed from most people’s – from mine – help me understand my own life?

They remind me that there are others out there sharing my mindset.

It’s great to feel like I’m not alone.

Revision season?

It’s no longer rejection season.  It is now revision season.  I have spent the last 48 hours in serious revision mode, red pen and all.  In fact my last red pen is about to die on me.  Unacceptable.  How will I work without my favorite Bic crystal pen?  Hmm… why am I hung on up on silly things like that.  I guess it just goes to show where my head is right now.  After an eventful and incident-full evening last night that did not resolve itself until 3:30am, I was up again at 7:30.  One visit to my friendly neighborhood Starbucks and some moral support from two friends later, I was on my way to seeing light at the end of the tunnel.

As I look over the revisions I have made to my thesis in the past day and a half, I am astonished.  These are the most extensive revisions I have ever made to a piece of my own writing.  On some pages, the original text is barely distinguishable beneath my advisor’s blue markings and my own red ones.  It’s bizarre and invigorating all at once.  What kind of English major would I be without having done this kind of intensive revision at least once?  A pretty terrible one, I’ll tell you.  I mean, I’ve worked at the University Writing Center for the last 2 years and have told more students than I can remember to revise, revise, revise.  I always felt a little bit like a hypocrite.  There I was lauding the value of extensive and intensive revision without once participating in the process myself.  Sure I’ve cleaned up a paper or a draft, but I’ve never gone in with the intention of making serious, main-idea-altering changes.  Now I have, and I am happy for more than one reason.

As much as I may hate it, I know that this process is making my writing and my argument stronger.  I know that I, in turn, am growing as a writer.  Most of all, this process seems to have ushered in a revision of my mental state.  Just last night, my mom told me that I sounded sad on the phone, that she could hear in my voice that I was stressed, upset, anxious, unhappy…. You name it, my voice revealed it.  Today, I woke up in a similar state, but one grande iced coffee and several red pen revisions later, I was feeling confident, confident in my ability to overcome the seemingly insurmountable task in front of me.  As I accepted the fact that maybe, just maybe, my mom and my friends were right, that I can do this, I began to feel confident in other ways.  I felt happy.  I wanted to smile.  I laughed and joked and ate food and drank coffee and, miraculously, enjoyed myself.  Despite the odds stacked against me, I felt confident in my ability to succeed and to pull through it all, in my ability to prove to my advisor that I deserve this honor, that I am capable of finishing this project, that I will be ready to defend by March 25th.

A friend recently told me that this time in our lives is more often than not a test in ignoring the people who tell you no and never admitting that you’ve reached your limit.  Today I learned the truth in this statement for myself.  I have chosen a passion that requires me to face the impossible every day, to stare it in the face, and to say “bring it.”  I am here to do the impossible and to allow my passion for it to fill me up and see me through the trenches.  Nothing about this situation is going to change.  Ever.  I have chosen this path and must accept the consequences of such a decision.  The funny thing is, for once, today, in the midst of all this pressure and uncertainty, I am more excited by the impossible than I am afraid.