Thursday, January 15, 2009

General Exam

Oh.

My.

Creator.

I was shut in a room with five men two to three times bigger than me for three solid hours having every soft bit of me kicked and poked and gouged and kicked some more and punched and sliced open and packed with salt.

I made it out of the room. I tended to my wounds while my tormentors decided my fate. Would it be thumbs up, be on your way, valiant gladiator, with our thoughts on how to fight better the next time? Would it be thumbs down, thrown to the lions for the violent death of your dreams? An hour later, I knew.

Thumbs up, with caveats.

I now must meet individually with my tormentors. The beatings will continue.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Countdown to GE Day -- 7 days

::checks clock:: Gads, it's only 6:59 a.m. I've been up for two hours, but it seems like more.

Checklist for General Exam

-- proposal document with figures, tables, and references -- DONE

-- send proposal to dissertation committee -- DONE

-- Powerpoint presentation -- DONE

-- send Powerpoint to advisor for review -- ATTEMPTED (but it bounced back as too big for inbox)

-- practice talk -- TO DO

-- read some literature in a vain attempt to prepare for defense -- TO DO

-- check laser presenter to be sure batteries are good -- TO DO

-- stockpile chocolate as stress reliever -- DONE

-- be nervous -- DONE

-- be extremely nervous -- TO DO

-- take nap -- WANTED BADLY

Friday, January 2, 2009

Countdown to GE Day -- 12 days / Choking / New Year's Lists

So yesterday I accomplished nothing in the Great General Exam Preparation (hereafter referred to as GGEP), not a single Powerpoint slide nor a single scientific word read. I offer no excuses but laziness.

I've had a cold for about a week, and this morning it tried to kill me. Literally. I woke up feeling hot and moved to push down my blankets. That done, I rolled my head from right to left to stretch my neck muscles. (Warning: potential ick factor ahead) When I did so, apparently I shifted a wad of mucus so that it blocked my airway. Unfortunately, this was stuff that had been sitting for a bit and had started to harden, thus it wasn't easy to get even a tiny bit of air around it. I had an initial second of panic in which a whipped my head back and forth a couple of times, and I must have moved it again a bit because I was able to draw a small breath. I used it to cough against the wad, moving it a little more. Another small breath, my brain screaming WANT MORE, but I kept my cool and coughed again. Small breath, cough, a little bigger breath, cough. I was making horrible mucus-y gagging choking sounds, but it occurred to me that I wasn't loud enough for my dad to hear me in the living room. I thought, "I could die on my own mucus right here." As soon as I thought that, a louder thought came through: "F--- THAT! I'm defending my proposal soon!" I coughed a few more times, and I was finally able to start the clearing your throat action. After an hour (really probably 15-20 seconds), I cleared my airway completely and took a gigantic breath. I coughed a few more times just to be sure, then thanked the Higher I got rid of it. I'll be glad when this cold is gone!

Finally, as the New Year begins, I'd like to share this wonderful insight I received on Wednesday from DailyOM. It really affected me, and I hope you enjoy it.


New Year's Resolutions: The Two Lists
A Message from DailyOM Co-Founder Scott Blum

I was fortunate to spend time with an enigmatic man named Robert during a very special period of my life. Robert taught me many things during our days together, and this time of year reminds me of one particular interaction we had.

"Now that you are becoming more aware," Robert said, "you need to begin to set goals for yourself so you don't lose the momentum you have built."

"Like New Year's resolutions?" I asked.

"That's an interesting idea," he smirked. "Let's do that."

By then I was used to his cryptic responses, so I knew something was up because of the way his eyes sparkled as he let out an impish laugh.

"Tonight's assignment is to make two lists," Robert continued. "The first is a list of all the New Year's resolutions you WANT to keep, and the second is a list of all the New Year's resolutions you WILL keep. Write the WANT List first, and when you have exhausted all of your ideas, then write the second list on another sheet of paper."

That night I went home and spent several hours working on the two lists. The WANT List felt overwhelming at first, but after a while I got into writing all the things I had always wanted to do if the burdens of life hadn't gotten in the way. After nearly an hour, the list swelled to fill the entire page and contained nearly all of my ideas of an ideal life. The second list was much easier, and I was able to quickly commit ten practical resolutions that I felt would be both realistic and helpful.

The next day, I met Robert in front of the local food Co-op, where we seemed to have most of our enlightening conversations. "Tell me about your two lists," Robert said as the familiar smirk crept onto his face.

"The first list contains all the things I SHOULD do if I completely changed my life to be the person I always wanted to be. And the second list contains all the things I COULD do by accepting my current life, and taking realistic steps towards the life I want to lead."

"Let me see the second list," he said.

I handed him the second list, and without even looking at it, he ripped the paper into tiny pieces and threw it in the nearby garbage can. His disregard for the effort I had put into the list annoyed me at first, but after I calmed down I began to think about the first list in a different light. In my heart, I knew the second list was a cop out, and the first list was the only one that really mattered.

"And now, the first list." Robert bowed his head and held out both of his hands.

I purposefully handed him the first list and held his gaze for several seconds, waiting for him to begin reading the page. After an unusually long silence, he began to crumple the paper into a ball and once again tossed it into the can without looking at it.

"What did you do that for?!" I couldn't hide my anger any longer.

Robert began to speak in a quiet and assured voice. "What you SHOULD or COULD do with your life no longer matters. The only thing that matters, from this day forward, is what you MUST do."

He then drew a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and handed it to me.

I opened it carefully, and found a single word floating in the middle of the white page:

"Love."