Geraldine is growing. Although I haven't actually written anything that will appear in any of Geraldine's final drafts, her database is becoming something worth smiling about. Geraldine is a traditional typological study. In traditional typologocial studies, one must collect data from many languages. How many languages? Well... that's hard to say. Nowadays there are publications that compare two or three languages, but in traditional typological studies, databases should consist of at least 100 languages. Is that difficult? Well... it has been up to now. I started collecting data for Geraldine's database 4 years ago. When I turned in my preliminary draft, my database had 38 languages in it. Not exactly close to 100, but I was still proud of it. 38 languages may not seem like a lot, but in traditional typological studies, there are many conditions for selecting langauges.
Languages can be related to each other in two ways. The first way is through what we refer to as a 'genetic relationship.' These languages have developed from a common ancestor language that no one really speaks anymore. For example, German and English both came from proto-Germanic. This is why the languages share so many vocabulary words, like 'house' and 'Haus' or 'scribe' and 'schreiben'. Languages may also be related through areal contact. When languages have prolonged contact with eachother, they start to borrow terms. This is why Japanese has borrowed English words. Some of my favorites are: kay-ki (cake), su-pun (spoon) and jusu (juice). In order to make claims that all languages (or most languages) do something, one must collect data from many langauges that are neither genetically or areally related to each other.
Thus, when ever I come across data from a langauge that is new to me, I have to look up where it is spoken and the language family it belongs to. Most languages that have a lot of data available are from large language families and are spoken in Europe or in Asia. It is much more difficult to find data from a language spoken deep in the jungles of Papua New Guinea (a place that has roughly 1/8 of the world's languages) or Africa. Even when I do come across the name of a language from a language family I have never heard of before, I have to find a data source that is strong enough for me to defend my use of it. In general, dictionaries are looked down upon because they don't have enough information about how the words are used, and grammars don't contain the information I need.
Before my computer crashed 3 weeks ago, I found a database that had the data I needed in languages that I didn't have. (Yay!) In a few days, Geraldine's database grew from 38 to 68 languages. (Ooooooo.... Aaaaaaaaaaaah....) The only problem was, Geraldine's database still had more than twice as many languages from Europe and Asia than it did from the other 4 major geographic areas. (Fail) This has been on my mind but uploading everything onto the online courses I teach had to be my priority for the last two weeks. Finally I had extra time to read last night and within two pages of reading, I discovered the name of another database. Could it be?! More goodies for Geraldine?!? Indeed... this was another motherload of data with the needed information from more than 75 languages indigenous to South America. (Tada!) It also has a few more languages from North American and Africa that I can add to my database AND I can copy and paste information from it into Geraldine's database (no more searching for special symbols every other letter). And now, Geraldine's database will reach the 100 languages mark this week. I will only need to find data from another 20 languages or so to round out my database, and I can start reanalyzing the data to test my hypotheses.
This means, if you talk to me this week, I will be frantically busy while also displaying signs of being in an incredibly good mood (until my new data doesn't support my claims and I have to rewrite 30 pages of my preliminary work). And, if you have access to data from a language spoken in Africa, PNG or North America that isn't already in my database.... pass it my way. :)
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
On Rejection
Careers in academia depend on one's ability to publish research. For most academics young in their careers, 'publication,' 'publish' and anything to do with 'journal article submissions' are loaded words. They wreck havoc in one's level of confidence, cause nightmares and otherwise loom over graduate students' heads like the guillotine. Or at least... that's how I like to imagine it sometimes. Publishing doesn't scare me, but I've learned to be careful in how I use the terms depending on the person with whom I'm conversing. Some professors I have met who are early in their careers avoid talking about publishing at all costs. Someone mentions the word, and said professor directs the eyes toward the spot where the wall and floor meet in a corner. This eye movement may be met with mumbling, followed by protruding lips and an abrupt change of subject. Graduate students on the other hand, either ignore the matter completely or panic to the point of dispair. I tend to belong to the second group of graduate students, whereas the majority of others in my cohort belong to the first group.
Knowing that Geraldine will be fully developed within a year and a half, I know that my time is running short. I need a few publications on my CV before I start applying for jobs, if I want to be considered with the other expected 100-200 applications for each linguistics tenure track job posted for fall 2013. I place a lot of pressure on myself, but not to the point of losing sleep over it. I know that my first publication will happen when it's suppose to, and that if I continue to work hard and give myself the opportunity for feedback on my research, I will produce quality work.
Nevertheless, I don't think that anyone who knows me would describe me as an optimistic person. Rather, I look for and expect the worst and hope for the best. Perhaps this is why it didn't surprise me when I opened my e-mail today and found the response to the conference abstract I submitted in early November. Rejection! And it's my 3rd rejection in a row. Had my abstract been accepted, it would have meant a conference proceeding-- not a highly ranked publication, but a step up from nothing. Even though I received 'no' as an answer today, it didn't bother me. I was happy to find that the response from the organizing committee included comments from three anonymous reviewers, which is a very rare inclusion for conferences in my field. The comments I received were both encouraging and helpful. Being that I couldn't decide whether or not to submit my abstract to this conference in the first place, I was pleased to receive feedback. I'm sure that my reviewers recognized my work as the equivalence of an undergrad's all-nighter term paper (after all, I wrote it in about an hour and submitted it before I had time to rewrite it 3 or 4 more times AND I hadn't written my paper yet), but I am grateful for their comments and feel encouraged to try again.
I spent the afternoon rewriting my abstract from scratch and I've pleased with the resulting product. It is 10-times better than what I submitted in November and I now have a much clearer picture of the claims I make in this research. I already have another conference picked out to which I will submit the new version of my abstract, and I feel confident that it will not only be accepted as a paper presentation, but that it will be considered for one of the top 4 student abstracts for the conference. In the case that it is one of the top student abstracts, I would be awarded $200 for the cost of attending the conference. Thus, I don't see this rejection as ego humbling, rather it is a gentle reminder that I still have a lot of room to continue to develop and refine my research. This rejection encourages me to keep trying, and I am thankful for what it has taught me about writing abstracts. Furthermore, I'm glad to have another opportunity to receive more feedback on my work, which I eventually will submit to a journal for publication. It will likely be rejected a few more times in the process, but by the time it is published, it will be polished and a work of art to which my name will be attached to for the rest of linguistsic history. And should my anonymous reviews read my work at that point, they can take great pride in helping me find my way.
Knowing that Geraldine will be fully developed within a year and a half, I know that my time is running short. I need a few publications on my CV before I start applying for jobs, if I want to be considered with the other expected 100-200 applications for each linguistics tenure track job posted for fall 2013. I place a lot of pressure on myself, but not to the point of losing sleep over it. I know that my first publication will happen when it's suppose to, and that if I continue to work hard and give myself the opportunity for feedback on my research, I will produce quality work.
Nevertheless, I don't think that anyone who knows me would describe me as an optimistic person. Rather, I look for and expect the worst and hope for the best. Perhaps this is why it didn't surprise me when I opened my e-mail today and found the response to the conference abstract I submitted in early November. Rejection! And it's my 3rd rejection in a row. Had my abstract been accepted, it would have meant a conference proceeding-- not a highly ranked publication, but a step up from nothing. Even though I received 'no' as an answer today, it didn't bother me. I was happy to find that the response from the organizing committee included comments from three anonymous reviewers, which is a very rare inclusion for conferences in my field. The comments I received were both encouraging and helpful. Being that I couldn't decide whether or not to submit my abstract to this conference in the first place, I was pleased to receive feedback. I'm sure that my reviewers recognized my work as the equivalence of an undergrad's all-nighter term paper (after all, I wrote it in about an hour and submitted it before I had time to rewrite it 3 or 4 more times AND I hadn't written my paper yet), but I am grateful for their comments and feel encouraged to try again.
I spent the afternoon rewriting my abstract from scratch and I've pleased with the resulting product. It is 10-times better than what I submitted in November and I now have a much clearer picture of the claims I make in this research. I already have another conference picked out to which I will submit the new version of my abstract, and I feel confident that it will not only be accepted as a paper presentation, but that it will be considered for one of the top 4 student abstracts for the conference. In the case that it is one of the top student abstracts, I would be awarded $200 for the cost of attending the conference. Thus, I don't see this rejection as ego humbling, rather it is a gentle reminder that I still have a lot of room to continue to develop and refine my research. This rejection encourages me to keep trying, and I am thankful for what it has taught me about writing abstracts. Furthermore, I'm glad to have another opportunity to receive more feedback on my work, which I eventually will submit to a journal for publication. It will likely be rejected a few more times in the process, but by the time it is published, it will be polished and a work of art to which my name will be attached to for the rest of linguistsic history. And should my anonymous reviews read my work at that point, they can take great pride in helping me find my way.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
On the First Week of the Semester
Ah, the first week of the semester. Time to deeply inhale the exhilerating feeling of scholarly possibilities, and potential increases in a social life, then exhale the low grades/bitterness/stress from previous terms. At least, that's what I told myself as an undergrad. Now that I'm working on Geraldine, the beginning of the semester means crowds everywhere where it ought to be empty: in the stairwell leading to my office, in the library, surrounding my secret parking spot...
Suddenly I have become a crabby old person who complains about there being too many people at Christmas and Easter mass. "Go home, this pew is for people who come here daily," is what's on their minds as they pretend to innocently pray a rosary before mass starts. In reality, those grouches are planning their Catholic assasination attacks, in which they punch the person to their immediate left and elbow the person standing on their right while making the sign of the cross. "In the name of the Father, the Son and the yeah that's right, I just punched your lights out! Now go to confession and talk about all of your activities that kept you from coming here in the first place!" At least, that's what I always imagined they were thinking... I'm certain there are people in my choir who think that way...
Of course I would never think that on Christmas or Easter, so why do I think that way whenever a new term starts? I find my mind full of thoughts like "yeah, you might be here now, but you'll drop out in two weeks." or "you're only here to find a hot date and as soon as that happens, you won't be back." When did I become such a jerk?
I learned to avoid places such as the student union, bookstore and campus gymnasium during the first few weeks of the term long ago, but the stairwell? And on the 6th floor?! Who wants to visit the philosophy department?!?! That floor is ALWAYS empty! At least once I shove my way through the library entrance my section of the stacks is still diserted: all of my books were still there, waiting for me to pick them up again.
As I fought through the swarming crowds on campus this week, one thought reassured me: this is the midwest and it snows here. Campus will be empty again with the next snow storm, and the peace and solitude I've grown to know and cherish for the last 4.5 years on this campus will return.
Is it snowing yet?
Suddenly I have become a crabby old person who complains about there being too many people at Christmas and Easter mass. "Go home, this pew is for people who come here daily," is what's on their minds as they pretend to innocently pray a rosary before mass starts. In reality, those grouches are planning their Catholic assasination attacks, in which they punch the person to their immediate left and elbow the person standing on their right while making the sign of the cross. "In the name of the Father, the Son and the yeah that's right, I just punched your lights out! Now go to confession and talk about all of your activities that kept you from coming here in the first place!" At least, that's what I always imagined they were thinking... I'm certain there are people in my choir who think that way...
Of course I would never think that on Christmas or Easter, so why do I think that way whenever a new term starts? I find my mind full of thoughts like "yeah, you might be here now, but you'll drop out in two weeks." or "you're only here to find a hot date and as soon as that happens, you won't be back." When did I become such a jerk?
I learned to avoid places such as the student union, bookstore and campus gymnasium during the first few weeks of the term long ago, but the stairwell? And on the 6th floor?! Who wants to visit the philosophy department?!?! That floor is ALWAYS empty! At least once I shove my way through the library entrance my section of the stacks is still diserted: all of my books were still there, waiting for me to pick them up again.
As I fought through the swarming crowds on campus this week, one thought reassured me: this is the midwest and it snows here. Campus will be empty again with the next snow storm, and the peace and solitude I've grown to know and cherish for the last 4.5 years on this campus will return.
Is it snowing yet?
Friday, January 20, 2012
On Study Music
I lived in an apartment for 7 years. During that time, I listened to music on headphones, from my computer or from a small boombox. Over time, I slowly stopped listening to music unless I was driving and could sing along with it. Likewise, as the time spent listening to music declined, my time spent listening to NPR increased. Although I still like listening to NPR (after all, Chapter a Day and the random experts on trees, bugs and cats are very interesting), I now live in a house and most of the time, I'm the only one at home. Last week, my husband announced that he finally bought a record player. I came home and found a new record player, tuner and two HUGE speakers set up in the dining room. It took a week to get all of the right equipment in the proper place, but now I am able to listen to music while working on Geraldine. It makes the repetitive tasks of copy and paste/ open and save/ download new program/ rename file as X much more exciting.
But records? Who listens to records? I do. Digital music can't compare to the sound of vinyl. There is nothing like blasting Beethoven's 5th Symphony with big speakers and a record player. Nothing. And if musicians don't want to have copies of their music on vinyl, I probably don't want to listen to their music anyways.
I listened to 7 of Beethoven's 9 symphonies today while working on Geraldine. It motivated me to strive towards greatness. Yes, maybe only 5 people other than those who are on my dissertation committee will ever read Geraldine and two of those people will probably be my relatives, but Geraldine will be a masterpiece. Others may not realize it in my lifetime, but generations of linguists to come after me will cite me and wonder just how exactly one does properly pronounce my last name. Some will say of me, "Oh, that Kelsie. She was interesting, alright... This one time I heard her lecturing at University of the Something in Somewhere and she started acting out morphology with random props that came out of nowhere. Everyone in the lecture hall was drooling with anticipatation for what she would say and do next. Man, students beat each other up to be in her class, and if they couldn't wiggle their eyebrows, she kicked them out!"
Unlike the famous composers of prior centuries, I do not have addictions. I'm not an alcoholic, I'm not despressed, and (although some people might disgree with this last one) I'm not a maniac. I hope I won't die alone like them and have to be buried in a pauper's grave, but I know that I will continue to have my fair share of suffering. My work will be ridiculed and rejected. I will receive nasty hate mail. I will likely have periods of unemployment because people will not appreciate my intellectual genious, and there will always be someone who is smarter, more cutting edge, better looking and better educated than me... but no one will be able to produce the work that I will with Geraldine.
Thus I am convinced that if I continue to listen to Beethoven, Schumann, Schubert, Mahler and the likes, I too will achieve something great. And when some ivory tower jerk rejects my work for the eleventybillionth time, I will still have the classical composers on my side, cheering me on from beyond the grave, saying "Just one more measure!" "One more treble clef!" "One more symphony!" And I will sit in the dark, with a glass of wine, conducting away with inspired thoughts brewing in my worn out, weary but still knowledge thirsty mind, toasting to the greats and those brilliant people that invented records and record players with each sip.
But records? Who listens to records? I do. Digital music can't compare to the sound of vinyl. There is nothing like blasting Beethoven's 5th Symphony with big speakers and a record player. Nothing. And if musicians don't want to have copies of their music on vinyl, I probably don't want to listen to their music anyways.
I listened to 7 of Beethoven's 9 symphonies today while working on Geraldine. It motivated me to strive towards greatness. Yes, maybe only 5 people other than those who are on my dissertation committee will ever read Geraldine and two of those people will probably be my relatives, but Geraldine will be a masterpiece. Others may not realize it in my lifetime, but generations of linguists to come after me will cite me and wonder just how exactly one does properly pronounce my last name. Some will say of me, "Oh, that Kelsie. She was interesting, alright... This one time I heard her lecturing at University of the Something in Somewhere and she started acting out morphology with random props that came out of nowhere. Everyone in the lecture hall was drooling with anticipatation for what she would say and do next. Man, students beat each other up to be in her class, and if they couldn't wiggle their eyebrows, she kicked them out!"
Unlike the famous composers of prior centuries, I do not have addictions. I'm not an alcoholic, I'm not despressed, and (although some people might disgree with this last one) I'm not a maniac. I hope I won't die alone like them and have to be buried in a pauper's grave, but I know that I will continue to have my fair share of suffering. My work will be ridiculed and rejected. I will receive nasty hate mail. I will likely have periods of unemployment because people will not appreciate my intellectual genious, and there will always be someone who is smarter, more cutting edge, better looking and better educated than me... but no one will be able to produce the work that I will with Geraldine.
Thus I am convinced that if I continue to listen to Beethoven, Schumann, Schubert, Mahler and the likes, I too will achieve something great. And when some ivory tower jerk rejects my work for the eleventybillionth time, I will still have the classical composers on my side, cheering me on from beyond the grave, saying "Just one more measure!" "One more treble clef!" "One more symphony!" And I will sit in the dark, with a glass of wine, conducting away with inspired thoughts brewing in my worn out, weary but still knowledge thirsty mind, toasting to the greats and those brilliant people that invented records and record players with each sip.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
On Checking Out Books
One of the most exciting discoveries of becoming a graduate student was that I could check out university library books for a whole semester. It didn't take me long to figure out that I no longer had to buy textbooks if I could just check them out for the whole semester. Now that I'm not taking classes anymore, I don't mind sharing my method because no one wants the books I'm checking out. How can I be sure? Because the majority of "my" books have stamps from me and only me in them. How do I know this? Because I'm usually the first person to check out the book: It has no barcode, no stamps, no old school librarian file card envelopes, no library stamp.
I consider myself to be a benevolent guardian. I "adopt" the books, give them new fancy library accessories, a nice home and access to the best gossip on the 5th floor. I hope that each of these books enjoy being my ward. After all, I've seen Annie, Oliver and The Rescuers and I've read books like Anne of Green Gables, The Little Princess, The Secret Garden and Jane Eyre. Orphans want to be adopted. And even those orphans who don't want to be adopted usually come around and enjoy it after all (I read The Boxcar Children too). Some orphaned books have been waiting to be checked out for decades and have collected a lot of dust. Others have been prone to overcrowding and no longer have a proper place on the shelf: they have been smushed and pushed aside by fancier looking books. I know that I can't adopt them all, but I try to do my part.
Each semester I visit the library on the first day of classes and check out the same books for another 5 months. Then each book sits on my office bookshelf for five months, ready for me to open it, read it, check references and place it back on the shelf. Personally, I think these books like the change in scenery. The library is nice, but it's a little crowded for some of "my" books. "My" books get a view. Now that I'm on the 5th floor instead of the 8th, my view isn't as nice. I can hardly see Lake Michigan from the 5th floor, but there is a sunset, St. Robert's Church, some lovely trees and a view of the library (incase "my" books get homesick). Occasionally, I take "my" books on outings- home, coffee shops, other libraries...but usually they just stay in my office until the end of the semester, when I have to return them or pay fines.
Others don't usually request "my" books, but when it does happen, I return "mine" to the library and wait for their return.When they come back, I loveingly check them for bumps and bruises, then set them back on the shelf.
Sometimes I find books that others once lovingly kept. I can tell if said books were under the guardianship of other faculty members within my department. For example, books kept by "Dumbledore" have specific markings: Next to every line which contains questionable grammar, a <?> appears in the margin. Lines with new vocabular words have been underlined, and <x> notations appear in the margins whenever Dumbledore's reading was interrupted. Likewise, all of "Yoda's" books have stamps on the first page, banding them as his alienable possesions. "Pumpkin" doesn't check out books because he doesn't read anymore unless it's about Korean and everyone else just makes their grad students scan copies of books for them so that they don't have to leave their office.
Now I have an abundance of books from other libraries. I consider them to be "exchange students." For a short time, I will provide them room without board, pay attention to them when they are interesting, and send them back when they are annoying. I will then write about the experience with each said exchange student in an annotated bibliography and make myself sound more exotic than I really am.
And when do I get to recheck out my beloved wards? On Monday, when there will be a high of 33 degrees instead of 5.
I consider myself to be a benevolent guardian. I "adopt" the books, give them new fancy library accessories, a nice home and access to the best gossip on the 5th floor. I hope that each of these books enjoy being my ward. After all, I've seen Annie, Oliver and The Rescuers and I've read books like Anne of Green Gables, The Little Princess, The Secret Garden and Jane Eyre. Orphans want to be adopted. And even those orphans who don't want to be adopted usually come around and enjoy it after all (I read The Boxcar Children too). Some orphaned books have been waiting to be checked out for decades and have collected a lot of dust. Others have been prone to overcrowding and no longer have a proper place on the shelf: they have been smushed and pushed aside by fancier looking books. I know that I can't adopt them all, but I try to do my part.
Each semester I visit the library on the first day of classes and check out the same books for another 5 months. Then each book sits on my office bookshelf for five months, ready for me to open it, read it, check references and place it back on the shelf. Personally, I think these books like the change in scenery. The library is nice, but it's a little crowded for some of "my" books. "My" books get a view. Now that I'm on the 5th floor instead of the 8th, my view isn't as nice. I can hardly see Lake Michigan from the 5th floor, but there is a sunset, St. Robert's Church, some lovely trees and a view of the library (incase "my" books get homesick). Occasionally, I take "my" books on outings- home, coffee shops, other libraries...but usually they just stay in my office until the end of the semester, when I have to return them or pay fines.
Others don't usually request "my" books, but when it does happen, I return "mine" to the library and wait for their return.When they come back, I loveingly check them for bumps and bruises, then set them back on the shelf.
Sometimes I find books that others once lovingly kept. I can tell if said books were under the guardianship of other faculty members within my department. For example, books kept by "Dumbledore" have specific markings: Next to every line which contains questionable grammar, a <?> appears in the margin. Lines with new vocabular words have been underlined, and <x> notations appear in the margins whenever Dumbledore's reading was interrupted. Likewise, all of "Yoda's" books have stamps on the first page, banding them as his alienable possesions. "Pumpkin" doesn't check out books because he doesn't read anymore unless it's about Korean and everyone else just makes their grad students scan copies of books for them so that they don't have to leave their office.
Now I have an abundance of books from other libraries. I consider them to be "exchange students." For a short time, I will provide them room without board, pay attention to them when they are interesting, and send them back when they are annoying. I will then write about the experience with each said exchange student in an annotated bibliography and make myself sound more exotic than I really am.
And when do I get to recheck out my beloved wards? On Monday, when there will be a high of 33 degrees instead of 5.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
On the Difficulties of Preventing Butt Growth While Writing a Dissertation
I have been exactly the same size and weight since I was 17. I know this for two reasons:
1) Most of my clothing is that old
2) I pole vaulted that year and was monitoring my weight the whole season, hoping I could go back to vaulting on the 120 pole.
When I was 17, I danced at least 20 hours a week. If you don't believe me, you can either watch surveillance videos from Olympia grocery stores from the year 2000, or talk to anyone who knew me. I stopped dancing when I was 20, due to a spinal injury. One would think that I would have gained weight after that, but I've been a student living on rice and beans for most of my adult life.
In the years that I wasn't a student, I taught German and history and was on my feet all day. During that time, I played a lot of music in my classroom and bounced around the classroom while my students conjugated, declined or took notes from my entertaining power point presentations. I thought that my active lifestyle stopped when I moved to the Midwest, but according to my students' evals of me, it didn't. One evaluation had the comment "she jumps" on it. I asked a former student about this, wondering if I jumped between topics. My student replied, "No, Kelsie, you literally jump up and down when you teach."
Now I teach online classes. It's great for giving me time to work on Geraldine, but my dress pants aren't fitting as well as they used to. This shouldn't be too big of a surprise. After all, I spend a minimum of 4 hours with Geraldine Monday through Friday, mostly sitting, and during the semester, I spend a lot of time responding to student e-mails (most of which could be avoided if my students actually read the course syllabus). I also haven't had a lot of time to ride horses this academic year because my schedule and lack of funds have overlapped with my trainer's. Yes, riding horses also usually involves sitting, but dressage and hunt seat are killer leg work-outs too.
So how to remedy this situation? I think I need to bring my saddle home with me and place it on top of my saddle stand. If I sit on my saddle while spending time with Geraldine, I can:
1) Kick when a task isn't going fast enough
2) Squeeze when it's going in the wrong direction
3) Post when the pace is good
4) Two point whenever there's a hurdle
5) Do around the worlds whenever I'm waiting for a page to load
Good thing I have a lesson tonight!
In the meantime, I'll keep watching zumba and Tahitian cardio clips on YouTube whenever I get too cold to type...
1) Most of my clothing is that old
2) I pole vaulted that year and was monitoring my weight the whole season, hoping I could go back to vaulting on the 120 pole.
When I was 17, I danced at least 20 hours a week. If you don't believe me, you can either watch surveillance videos from Olympia grocery stores from the year 2000, or talk to anyone who knew me. I stopped dancing when I was 20, due to a spinal injury. One would think that I would have gained weight after that, but I've been a student living on rice and beans for most of my adult life.
In the years that I wasn't a student, I taught German and history and was on my feet all day. During that time, I played a lot of music in my classroom and bounced around the classroom while my students conjugated, declined or took notes from my entertaining power point presentations. I thought that my active lifestyle stopped when I moved to the Midwest, but according to my students' evals of me, it didn't. One evaluation had the comment "she jumps" on it. I asked a former student about this, wondering if I jumped between topics. My student replied, "No, Kelsie, you literally jump up and down when you teach."
Now I teach online classes. It's great for giving me time to work on Geraldine, but my dress pants aren't fitting as well as they used to. This shouldn't be too big of a surprise. After all, I spend a minimum of 4 hours with Geraldine Monday through Friday, mostly sitting, and during the semester, I spend a lot of time responding to student e-mails (most of which could be avoided if my students actually read the course syllabus). I also haven't had a lot of time to ride horses this academic year because my schedule and lack of funds have overlapped with my trainer's. Yes, riding horses also usually involves sitting, but dressage and hunt seat are killer leg work-outs too.
So how to remedy this situation? I think I need to bring my saddle home with me and place it on top of my saddle stand. If I sit on my saddle while spending time with Geraldine, I can:
1) Kick when a task isn't going fast enough
2) Squeeze when it's going in the wrong direction
3) Post when the pace is good
4) Two point whenever there's a hurdle
5) Do around the worlds whenever I'm waiting for a page to load
Good thing I have a lesson tonight!
In the meantime, I'll keep watching zumba and Tahitian cardio clips on YouTube whenever I get too cold to type...
On Interpreting E-mails From Your Department Chair
Call me a cynic, but when I receive e-mails from professors in my department, I enjoy deciphering their secret messages. This is the latest rendition, which I received from my department chair this afternoon.
Dear Ph.D. students,
<I can't remember all of your names so I will write a formal heading instead>
I hope you had a great winter break and you're all ready to start a new semester.
<You're a bunch of slackers. You'd better work hard these next few weeks, or I'm not renewing your contracts. After all, there were 8 applicants to the program for next Fall, so each of you can now be replaced.>
We are running a search for an Assistant professor in Phonology and we have our first selected candidate, Dr. X, coming for a job interview on Jan 26-27.
<We pulled a name out of a hat because there were too many applicants.>
Linguist X graduated from the University of California-Berkeley and is currently a lecturer at the University of Massachusetts.
<None of your credentials can compete with hers. You will only get jobs at community colleges, if you are lucky.>
We scheduled an open meeting with her and all the Ph.D. students on Friday from 1:00 to 1:30, so I encourage all of you to come and meet her. <We ran out of things to do with her because classes aren't in session. Cross off anything already on your to-do list.>
This meeting will be in the conference room.
<To avoid showing off the prison-like architecture of the building, we decided to highlight the only fancy table and chairs in the building (with the exception of the writing center, which convinces parents to pay their child's tuition).>
She is also giving a talk on Friday at 2;00pm and needless to say that you are also encouraged and expected to come to the talk.
<The department professors are on vacation and you are required to come so that it looks like the department is bigger and there are graduate students who actually care.>
best,
<You're screwed if you mess this up>
Department Chair's First Name
<I wrote this so you will think that I like you, but in actuality, I don't even know who you are.>
Dear Ph.D. students,
<I can't remember all of your names so I will write a formal heading instead>
I hope you had a great winter break and you're all ready to start a new semester.
<You're a bunch of slackers. You'd better work hard these next few weeks, or I'm not renewing your contracts. After all, there were 8 applicants to the program for next Fall, so each of you can now be replaced.>
We are running a search for an Assistant professor in Phonology and we have our first selected candidate, Dr. X, coming for a job interview on Jan 26-27.
<We pulled a name out of a hat because there were too many applicants.>
Linguist X graduated from the University of California-Berkeley and is currently a lecturer at the University of Massachusetts.
<None of your credentials can compete with hers. You will only get jobs at community colleges, if you are lucky.>
We scheduled an open meeting with her and all the Ph.D. students on Friday from 1:00 to 1:30, so I encourage all of you to come and meet her. <We ran out of things to do with her because classes aren't in session. Cross off anything already on your to-do list.>
This meeting will be in the conference room.
<To avoid showing off the prison-like architecture of the building, we decided to highlight the only fancy table and chairs in the building (with the exception of the writing center, which convinces parents to pay their child's tuition).>
She is also giving a talk on Friday at 2;00pm and needless to say that you are also encouraged and expected to come to the talk.
<The department professors are on vacation and you are required to come so that it looks like the department is bigger and there are graduate students who actually care.>
best,
<You're screwed if you mess this up>
Department Chair's First Name
<I wrote this so you will think that I like you, but in actuality, I don't even know who you are.>
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
On Receiving Unexpected Mail
I have been having a streak of bad luck. I'm not sure what I did to earn this bad karma.
Maybe it's the earwig I killed two years ago in Eugene before Uyghur elicitation sessions. I immediately smashed, shrieking in fear, upon discovering it on my torso. This action led to being chastised by my classmates and learning the Uyghur word for 'to kill' as well as the nominalized form for 'killer.' This event scared me and I haven't squished a bug since. Is this pay back?
But what about the squirrel that attacked my backpack three days after smashing the earwig? I think the earwig sicked the squirrel on me to seek revenge, meaning the killing event is not the cause of my bad karma.
Perhaps I said too many mean things about "Indiana" while frustrated after he failed to come to the meeting he scheduled with me for the 8th time in a row. After all, he did give me a magical watch, who's to say that there isn't a crystal ball hidden in his office? He could have been watching me all along. This would explain his knack for coming and going without being seen. I think this explains my karma.
Just when I thought today couldn't get any worse, I accidently dropped my favourite baking dish from Grammy and Papa in the pantry today. It shattered on the floor along with the rest of the homemade tomato pasta I had been saving for a Kelsie Pitty Party. I tried to be optimistic and remembered the German superstition: Scherben bringen Glueck 'porcelain shards bring luck.' Then the whole fiasco with ILL happened. I gave up on hoping for a turn of luck until.... Hubby went outside to check the mail and came back with an unexpected check from AATG that was bigger than either of our monthly pay checks. CHACHING! It seems that the grant Hubby won last summer to study in Leipzig included a stipend for airline tickets that neither of us knew about, and it pays off the remainder of Hubby's credit card balance from said trip to Leipzig!!! For the first time in the 8 years I have known Hubby, he doesn't have a credit card balance. WOWEEEEEZOWEEEEE!
Lesson learned: Don't worry about accidently dropping the dishes!
On loathing Interlibrary Loan
Research includes becoming aware of prior work, locating and obtaining said prior work, then reading, sorting and digesting said prior work. In academic research, my best friend has been Interlibary Loan (ILL)... until this morning.
I spent the first two weeks of creating Geraldine locating and obtaining 12 pages of citations related to my research topic. It took 40 hours, but I did it. I saved all of my PDFs on a flashdrive and before I could make copies onto my office computer, the flashdrive failed and I couldn't recover the PDFs. But no major problem, because ILL has a message that looks like this:
"Articles posted to this page will remain accessible by the requestor for 30 days from the date of posting.
If, prior to this time, you no longer require the use of an article, you may delete it using the "Delete" link to the right of the article information.
In the event that you accidentally delete an article from this web page, you may undelete articles or e-mail us at to have them reset."
So rather than bite of Hubby's head for the 10th time this week, I e-mailed the ILL staff and requested that my articles would be reset. Then I watched a movie with Hubby and tried to make up for the 9 times I have completely lost my cool since Sunday morning. When I checked my e-mail this morning, this was the reply from ILL:
"Hello Kelsie:
The interlibrary loan staff receives articles electronically from other libraries. Once they are posted to your ILLiad account, they are automatically removed from our system. So, the ILL staff no longer has access to these articles either.
According to your ILLiad record, the ILL staff obtained 99 articles from other libraries since January 2nd. If you would like these articles again, you will need to make new requests for them."
I fought back the tears when I read this e-mail and phoned the ILL staff, hoping that someone would be able to help me. The librarian on the other end of the line told me I was out of luck and that I really did have to re-request everything.
I spent more than 5 hours re-requesting every darn article today. After 5 hours, I celebrated the completion of my task by making bread, then returned to work for another 3 hours. No that I am done, I checked my e-mail again to start downloading PDFs for a second time, only to find an e-mail from afore mentioned librarian that read:
"Hello Kelsie:
The information I provided to you earlier is incorrect. You do not need to make new requests for the 99 articles that the interlibrary loan staff has obtained for your since January 2nd. The articles are on our server. We will re-post them to your ILLiad account under their original transaction numbers.
I apologize for any confusion. "
Words cannot express the frustration I feel right now. Hubby is lucky to be gone at the moment so that he won't become headless again today. My e-mail inbox is now receiving 99 ILL cancelation messages that I will have to delete by hand. The only way to remedy this is to cry and listen to the following Reel Big Fish song and think of the librarian that made me cry today (but I hope she doesn't die... so don't listen to the end of this song!).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NU-W7bKNkmo
I spent the first two weeks of creating Geraldine locating and obtaining 12 pages of citations related to my research topic. It took 40 hours, but I did it. I saved all of my PDFs on a flashdrive and before I could make copies onto my office computer, the flashdrive failed and I couldn't recover the PDFs. But no major problem, because ILL has a message that looks like this:
"Articles posted to this page will remain accessible by the requestor for 30 days from the date of posting.
If, prior to this time, you no longer require the use of an article, you may delete it using the "Delete" link to the right of the article information.
In the event that you accidentally delete an article from this web page, you may undelete articles or e-mail us at to have them reset."
So rather than bite of Hubby's head for the 10th time this week, I e-mailed the ILL staff and requested that my articles would be reset. Then I watched a movie with Hubby and tried to make up for the 9 times I have completely lost my cool since Sunday morning. When I checked my e-mail this morning, this was the reply from ILL:
"Hello Kelsie:
The interlibrary loan staff receives articles electronically from other libraries. Once they are posted to your ILLiad account, they are automatically removed from our system. So, the ILL staff no longer has access to these articles either.
According to your ILLiad record, the ILL staff obtained 99 articles from other libraries since January 2nd. If you would like these articles again, you will need to make new requests for them."
I fought back the tears when I read this e-mail and phoned the ILL staff, hoping that someone would be able to help me. The librarian on the other end of the line told me I was out of luck and that I really did have to re-request everything.
I spent more than 5 hours re-requesting every darn article today. After 5 hours, I celebrated the completion of my task by making bread, then returned to work for another 3 hours. No that I am done, I checked my e-mail again to start downloading PDFs for a second time, only to find an e-mail from afore mentioned librarian that read:
"Hello Kelsie:
The information I provided to you earlier is incorrect. You do not need to make new requests for the 99 articles that the interlibrary loan staff has obtained for your since January 2nd. The articles are on our server. We will re-post them to your ILLiad account under their original transaction numbers.
I apologize for any confusion. "
Words cannot express the frustration I feel right now. Hubby is lucky to be gone at the moment so that he won't become headless again today. My e-mail inbox is now receiving 99 ILL cancelation messages that I will have to delete by hand. The only way to remedy this is to cry and listen to the following Reel Big Fish song and think of the librarian that made me cry today (but I hope she doesn't die... so don't listen to the end of this song!).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NU-W7bKNkmo
On needing my ABD watch
I have learned to expect very little from my dissertation chair. We've worked together for over 4 years and I realize that I still know very little about him. Unlike others in my department, there are very few rumors about him, despite the cloud of mystery that follows his every step. Over the years I have observed him silently slipping in and out of his office, but he doesn't seem to have any patterns, making it incredibly difficult to know where he is and when he will arrive. He often wears a dark coat that somehow reminds me of Indiana Jones. If his office were not on the 8th floor of our building, I think he would sneak out the window. Actually, I think he has the know how and skill to rig up a device to sneak out the window despite the high location of his office, only the windows in our hall don't open and most of the time the weather here is too crummy to go outside. Maybe he knows about a secret passage way that I am unaware of.
I used to hide in the stairwell next to "Indiana's" office. It was the perfect hiding spot when I didn't want anyone to find me: irrate students who didn't earn high enough grades to obtain retro credits, gossiping faculty, vampire officemates and the like. It also was a great place to grade assignments without having to hear anyone's mobile phone ring every 10 seconds. In my 2 years hiding in that stairwell, I never saw Indiana in it. Thus I've been pondering for over 4 years how he manages to leave the elevator and make it into his office without being stopped. Maybe he can teleport. If so, I sure wish he would teach me how to do it.
Indiana has given me very little feedback over the years. His usual comments towards me are references to my hats, usually in the form of compliments. The others include:
"Your written responses weren't good enough on your comps to earn you the high distinction for your MA, but your coursework was impressive enough to make up the difference. You'll have to work harder on your PhD," said when he came to congratulate me for passing my MA comprehensive exams.
"Kelsie, it's good that you're back. We have a lot of work to do," said when I returned to graduate school after a hellacious year of teaching middle school.
"If you see 'Kelly,' kick him in the ass for me," said in most of our recent meetings in reference to my officemate, who is also Indiana's advisee.
"Your prelims are a time for us to make you sweat. We will pull out articles that you have never heard of and verbally abuse you for 2 hours, then, if you're still breathing, we will magically wave our hands over your head and pronounce you ABD," said in preparing me to take my preliminary exams which would conclude my doctoral coursework.
In sum, Indiana's comments usually result in me being a) confused b) upset c) grouchy or d) bewildered.
I passed my prelims in mid-November. My committee made me wait 30 minutes before Indiana came to my office to tell me that I passed. This wasn't because they couldn't agree on my status, rather they just enjoyed talking to eachother. They decided within 2 minutes of me leaving the room that I passed. I think Indiana just wanted to give me a hard time for the other 28 minutes.
Following this description, one can understand my complete shock upon receiving a congratulatory gift from Indiana at the end of the semester: a bag with a bottle of chamagne, German and Swiss chocolate and a watch. Although the watch was likely $5, I have worn it consistently whenever occupying myself with scholarly activities. That is until I lost it at my parents' house two weeks ago. Since losing the watch, Geraldine (my dissertation) has survived two computer crashes, a corrupted flashdrive, and the permanent deletion of all electronically received articles from interlibrary loan. I am convinced that this is no ordinary $5 watch. Indiana must have picked it up in SE Asia while on a research trip and it has magical powers. I cannot make progress on Geraldine until it has returned to my possesion.
Luckily, my mom called me earlier today to announce that the watch mysteriously appeared in the middle of the living room floor. Now I just have to wait for it in the mail. THANK GOD!
I used to hide in the stairwell next to "Indiana's" office. It was the perfect hiding spot when I didn't want anyone to find me: irrate students who didn't earn high enough grades to obtain retro credits, gossiping faculty, vampire officemates and the like. It also was a great place to grade assignments without having to hear anyone's mobile phone ring every 10 seconds. In my 2 years hiding in that stairwell, I never saw Indiana in it. Thus I've been pondering for over 4 years how he manages to leave the elevator and make it into his office without being stopped. Maybe he can teleport. If so, I sure wish he would teach me how to do it.
Indiana has given me very little feedback over the years. His usual comments towards me are references to my hats, usually in the form of compliments. The others include:
"Your written responses weren't good enough on your comps to earn you the high distinction for your MA, but your coursework was impressive enough to make up the difference. You'll have to work harder on your PhD," said when he came to congratulate me for passing my MA comprehensive exams.
"Kelsie, it's good that you're back. We have a lot of work to do," said when I returned to graduate school after a hellacious year of teaching middle school.
"If you see 'Kelly,' kick him in the ass for me," said in most of our recent meetings in reference to my officemate, who is also Indiana's advisee.
"Your prelims are a time for us to make you sweat. We will pull out articles that you have never heard of and verbally abuse you for 2 hours, then, if you're still breathing, we will magically wave our hands over your head and pronounce you ABD," said in preparing me to take my preliminary exams which would conclude my doctoral coursework.
In sum, Indiana's comments usually result in me being a) confused b) upset c) grouchy or d) bewildered.
I passed my prelims in mid-November. My committee made me wait 30 minutes before Indiana came to my office to tell me that I passed. This wasn't because they couldn't agree on my status, rather they just enjoyed talking to eachother. They decided within 2 minutes of me leaving the room that I passed. I think Indiana just wanted to give me a hard time for the other 28 minutes.
Following this description, one can understand my complete shock upon receiving a congratulatory gift from Indiana at the end of the semester: a bag with a bottle of chamagne, German and Swiss chocolate and a watch. Although the watch was likely $5, I have worn it consistently whenever occupying myself with scholarly activities. That is until I lost it at my parents' house two weeks ago. Since losing the watch, Geraldine (my dissertation) has survived two computer crashes, a corrupted flashdrive, and the permanent deletion of all electronically received articles from interlibrary loan. I am convinced that this is no ordinary $5 watch. Indiana must have picked it up in SE Asia while on a research trip and it has magical powers. I cannot make progress on Geraldine until it has returned to my possesion.
Luckily, my mom called me earlier today to announce that the watch mysteriously appeared in the middle of the living room floor. Now I just have to wait for it in the mail. THANK GOD!
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