... if I took a full bottle of Bombay Saphire Gin from my supervisor's basement? Because really, I was doing them a favour. They'd had enough...
:)
November, 1999 (Oh, What A Night)
5 years ago
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
The Never Ending Pile
So... just got back from a meeting with Dr. Supervisor.
My dream of finishing my thesis draft by this friday and having 2 solid weeks off is fast disappearing. My composite scale does not hang together, so that means I have to throw out some of my analyses and start over seperating out and reporting on all three questions that previously made up the scale. (It's actually very common for scales with less than 10 items to have this problem.) I need to find an undergrad or two to do some reliability coding for me. AND Dr. Supervisor wants me to report all kinds of shit from the qualitative analyses. This means that she wants me to go back and work on the analyses in such a way, let's call it "sensible way #1" which is exactly how she told me not to do it when I set up the database.
"Oh, no, Psyche! I know you've never done qualitative analyses before, but whatever you do, don't organize it in a way that makes sense to you! Take 80 hours to free code everything and THEN end up taking another 40 hours organizing it the way you wanted to afterwards." That is more like the "So un-sensible you must have a pickle soaked tea towel for a brain way #62." Dr. Who said that time is not linear, that is more like a big egg filled with wibbly wobbly "stuff." I wish I could go back in time and leave myself a note to kidnap David Tennant and make him write my thesis for me.
Sigh... I know it is NOT Dr. Supervisor's fault. It is the nature of the beast. And this beast is just a malevolent ontological paradox (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blink_(Doctor_Who) that has me trapped in a never-ending do-over.
I also had a clinic assessment fall in my lap this week. Normally, I would be thrilled. I'm the only student available, so no working with anyone incompetent, annoying, or competitive. And it is with one of my favorite profs EVAH, Dr. Second Reader. BUT... now that I have all this extra thesis work to do, it's going to be hard to find the time to learn some new tests I have to administer. So, if anyone wants to join me, maybe on Saturday or early Sunday before work, and let me practise administering some memory and executive functioning tests to them over a pint, let me know.
I think I need to just select a two week block of time before classes start in September, block them off in my calendar, and if necessary, pretend I was hit by a truck and am in hospital while I really take a much-needed vacation.
Who wants to hide me at their cottage or beach house?
My dream of finishing my thesis draft by this friday and having 2 solid weeks off is fast disappearing. My composite scale does not hang together, so that means I have to throw out some of my analyses and start over seperating out and reporting on all three questions that previously made up the scale. (It's actually very common for scales with less than 10 items to have this problem.) I need to find an undergrad or two to do some reliability coding for me. AND Dr. Supervisor wants me to report all kinds of shit from the qualitative analyses. This means that she wants me to go back and work on the analyses in such a way, let's call it "sensible way #1" which is exactly how she told me not to do it when I set up the database.
"Oh, no, Psyche! I know you've never done qualitative analyses before, but whatever you do, don't organize it in a way that makes sense to you! Take 80 hours to free code everything and THEN end up taking another 40 hours organizing it the way you wanted to afterwards." That is more like the "So un-sensible you must have a pickle soaked tea towel for a brain way #62." Dr. Who said that time is not linear, that is more like a big egg filled with wibbly wobbly "stuff." I wish I could go back in time and leave myself a note to kidnap David Tennant and make him write my thesis for me.
Sigh... I know it is NOT Dr. Supervisor's fault. It is the nature of the beast. And this beast is just a malevolent ontological paradox (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blink_(Doctor_Who) that has me trapped in a never-ending do-over.
I also had a clinic assessment fall in my lap this week. Normally, I would be thrilled. I'm the only student available, so no working with anyone incompetent, annoying, or competitive. And it is with one of my favorite profs EVAH, Dr. Second Reader. BUT... now that I have all this extra thesis work to do, it's going to be hard to find the time to learn some new tests I have to administer. So, if anyone wants to join me, maybe on Saturday or early Sunday before work, and let me practise administering some memory and executive functioning tests to them over a pint, let me know.
I think I need to just select a two week block of time before classes start in September, block them off in my calendar, and if necessary, pretend I was hit by a truck and am in hospital while I really take a much-needed vacation.
Who wants to hide me at their cottage or beach house?
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Uh, Psyche? Who's Flying The Plane?
"Who's flying the plane?" is the phrase we used back in my camp director days when a group of overtired, overworked staff taking a break on the patio would suddenly realize that no one was supervising their dorm groups. It was a terror-blinding moment of realization that Lord of Flies could very well be taking place right there in the middle no-where, and that whatever the wee beasties had got up to, it would be entirely your fault.
And it was usually hilarious. Like the time one of the counsellors rushed into the unsupervised dorm to discover that all his 8-10 year old international (ESL) campers were experimenting with drag and had used some (poisonous) berries to fabricate lipstick. We had the most hilarious trips to the wilderness ER.
But these days, I'm more concerned about who is flying this plane, MY plane, the LIFE plane. Nine years ago, I left performing behind me because I didn't want to be in a career where I was judged for my appearance. I chose psychology because it had always been interesting to me and because I really didn't know what else to do with myself. I figured it was better than just tending bar until I figured it out. If I never figured out what I wanted to do with my life, at least I would have another education. I'd be able to get a job. I'd have accomplished something. I could contribute to society. Yeah, well, I may not be judged for my height, the size of my boobs, or my hair colour -- but boy howdy do those psyc profs ever know how to be judgemental! At the end of each school year, all the profs in the department get together to "discuss" each student's progress. It is supposed to be an academic evaluation, but often it becomes a venue to vent about students and discuss their thinly veiled anxiety about younger students threatening them in some way.
So yeah, Dr. I-love-CBT, choke on my psychodynamic fireball! You don't like me because I am close to your age, don't kiss your ass, and have a backbone. Your issues about "professionalism" are the epitome of projection. Suck on your own defense mechanism and move on with your life.
I now have a rather elaborate Scott Pilgrim-ish fantasy where I must fight 7 evil professors; one for every year of my grad skule experience. Because Psyche is the GREATEST FIGHTER IN THE WORLD!!! Or maybe the fantasy could be a Alan Moore-ish reconceptualization; The League of Extraordinary psychodynamicists! I could team up with... oh forget it. I'm off topic again.
The point is, recently I've begun questioning why-the-fuck-I-am-doing-this. Why am I in a university structure that claims (falsely) to encourage new thinking and challenge minds to debate and explore existing dogma -- when clearly all professors want is to dangle their power over you and make you subscribe to their way of thinking without every questioning it? And why can't I get a decent gewurstraminer anywhere on campus? I'm going to need a lot more gewurstraminer if I'm going to survive this thing!
Right, so the question before me is: WHO is flying this plane? I spend many hours each week working on projects for Dr. Supervisor. I am not in a position to do research that I am actually interested in becuase I have to please Dr. Supervisor and negotiate with The Org and other real-world institutions without their support. I have a very limited selection of courses to choose from that are mostly CBT focused, taught by profs who seem to hate the psychodynamic outlook and who can't come to terms with the fact that CBT was brought into being by (wait for it) psychodynamic theorists (see Ellis, Beck, etc)! You know what, dipshits? (Not you, Dear Reader.) Theories evolve and grow. No one sits around taking piss out of Aristotle or calling Plato a hack, despite their theories being grossly out of date. Yet ignorant, modern psychologists think nothing of calling Freud a sex-obsessed idiot. Why are you all so fucking ANAL? Okay okay... don't get all in a tizzy, Psyche... The point in all of this is just to question your decisions and check in with yourself. Is this really what you want to be doing? Will the ends justify the means? Is it possible to be happy WHILE doing all this? If not, what the heck else do you want to do with your time? Take flying lessons?
Psyche?
And it was usually hilarious. Like the time one of the counsellors rushed into the unsupervised dorm to discover that all his 8-10 year old international (ESL) campers were experimenting with drag and had used some (poisonous) berries to fabricate lipstick. We had the most hilarious trips to the wilderness ER.
But these days, I'm more concerned about who is flying this plane, MY plane, the LIFE plane. Nine years ago, I left performing behind me because I didn't want to be in a career where I was judged for my appearance. I chose psychology because it had always been interesting to me and because I really didn't know what else to do with myself. I figured it was better than just tending bar until I figured it out. If I never figured out what I wanted to do with my life, at least I would have another education. I'd be able to get a job. I'd have accomplished something. I could contribute to society. Yeah, well, I may not be judged for my height, the size of my boobs, or my hair colour -- but boy howdy do those psyc profs ever know how to be judgemental! At the end of each school year, all the profs in the department get together to "discuss" each student's progress. It is supposed to be an academic evaluation, but often it becomes a venue to vent about students and discuss their thinly veiled anxiety about younger students threatening them in some way.
So yeah, Dr. I-love-CBT, choke on my psychodynamic fireball! You don't like me because I am close to your age, don't kiss your ass, and have a backbone. Your issues about "professionalism" are the epitome of projection. Suck on your own defense mechanism and move on with your life.
I now have a rather elaborate Scott Pilgrim-ish fantasy where I must fight 7 evil professors; one for every year of my grad skule experience. Because Psyche is the GREATEST FIGHTER IN THE WORLD!!! Or maybe the fantasy could be a Alan Moore-ish reconceptualization; The League of Extraordinary psychodynamicists! I could team up with... oh forget it. I'm off topic again.
The point is, recently I've begun questioning why-the-fuck-I-am-doing-this. Why am I in a university structure that claims (falsely) to encourage new thinking and challenge minds to debate and explore existing dogma -- when clearly all professors want is to dangle their power over you and make you subscribe to their way of thinking without every questioning it? And why can't I get a decent gewurstraminer anywhere on campus? I'm going to need a lot more gewurstraminer if I'm going to survive this thing!
Right, so the question before me is: WHO is flying this plane? I spend many hours each week working on projects for Dr. Supervisor. I am not in a position to do research that I am actually interested in becuase I have to please Dr. Supervisor and negotiate with The Org and other real-world institutions without their support. I have a very limited selection of courses to choose from that are mostly CBT focused, taught by profs who seem to hate the psychodynamic outlook and who can't come to terms with the fact that CBT was brought into being by (wait for it) psychodynamic theorists (see Ellis, Beck, etc)! You know what, dipshits? (Not you, Dear Reader.) Theories evolve and grow. No one sits around taking piss out of Aristotle or calling Plato a hack, despite their theories being grossly out of date. Yet ignorant, modern psychologists think nothing of calling Freud a sex-obsessed idiot. Why are you all so fucking ANAL? Okay okay... don't get all in a tizzy, Psyche... The point in all of this is just to question your decisions and check in with yourself. Is this really what you want to be doing? Will the ends justify the means? Is it possible to be happy WHILE doing all this? If not, what the heck else do you want to do with your time? Take flying lessons?
Psyche?
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