Preppy Productivity.

Okay. We’re going to get on this working thing. Because…well, I just realized that it’s June 15. Which means I have to have a thesis prospectus and be capable of semi-defending it in less than two and a half months and holy cow does that sounds a lot more pressing than “oh, I should do some research this summer…”

(I’ve been…busy.)

When I’m recovering from being…busy, I spend a lot of time on the internet. Reading academic blogs. And they’re all perky and happy and busy and ooh, I’m researching in such-and-such archives this week and have written six chapters of my dissertation and what do you mean you’re watching Arrested Development again, you’ve seen that series like eight times pssh you’re never going to graduate.

Okay. I may be reading a trifle too much into the posts.

But whatever. I felt guilty.

So! I’ve been very productive already this morning. I:

1.) Ordered some books from University Library about my broad topic.

2.) Did a general article search on WorldCat about my broad topic.

3.) Got frightened when it returned approximately eleventy jillion articles, ten jillion of which are written in languages I don’t speak.

4.) E-mailed copies of the four articles that are a. in English, b. readily available online, and c. have titles that vaguely make sense to me to myself and decided that was enough of WorldCat for the day.

5.) Went to amazon and bought this Polish book that my New Jesuit Bestie* suggested because obviously no one writes about the Catholic Church in Poland in English or Latin FOOLS.

6.) Geeked out more over my Amazon Rewards than the possibility of learning a language for my doctorate and expanding my educational horizons.

7.) Perused the latest edition of the Catholic Historical Review. (Very scholarly.)  That I received three weeks ago and has been sitting on my nightstand since then underneath InStyle while I’ve been…busy. (Less scholarly.)

8.) Discovered there were no articles about anything remotely helpful. Considered looking up back editions that probably did contain helpful articles. Figured that was an awful lot of work.

9.) Read an article about the Church in Spain even though I don’t care about Spain but I am going there and even though it’s not for academic reasons, reading an academic article about it may make me feel slightly more scholarly. (ETA: It didn’t.)

10.) Scoured my bookshelves, desk, chairs, closet (???), and various and sundry bags and suitcases (Ohio? Probably? I don’t even know.) and made a pile of all the books I had planned on already having finished.

Whew. And it’s only 10:17.

You’ll notice I didn’t really actually…do anything. Like, all of the reading and research and writing and stuff still…needs to be accomplished. But! The prep stuff is finished! And everybody knows that’s the easiest hardest part. So. Ha!

(Tomorrow’s list will most likely include “Send tearful e-mail to advisor begging for guidance.” It probably won’t include “wash hair.” Which I’ve been avoided for a little while.)

(What? It’s very thick. You can hardly tell it’s filthy.)

(And it looks better when it’s dirty.)

(Not filthy.)

(But still.)

 

 

*Yeah. I need more friends who have taken vows of celibacy.

Working break.

So academics work a 9-month year at their primary positions. Even full professors? Only paid for nine months. That doesn’t mean that they get to kick back and enjoy Netflix for the summer, though. Real academics research and write and present at conferences and prep for classes for the fall and do all sorts of other things that no one understands and/or cares about unless they too are specialists in Ancient Sanskrit or whatever.

I’m not a real academic. I’m a baby academic, but still on the nine-month schedule. No one (except possibly my mom) wants to read what I write, no one wants someone approximately 32 weeks out of undergrad to present anything except coffee at a seminar, and prepping for fall is impossible BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M TEACHING YET.

(My anxiety. Let me show you it.)

Nope, grad TA’s are supposed to spend the summer researching and writing their theses. Awesome. That’s great. I’ve spent way too much time watching Dateline on Investigation Discovery anyway.* I have a vague topic that I love, let’s get going on this bad boy.

Except…uh…how exactly…um…so, should I get some books? I’m kind of not sure…how specific do I have to be? I mean…I’m not even totally sure if I’m doing Poland or the USSR and…wow, this is way harder than it looks.

Yeah. Turns out, I have not made the great strides I had planned. I’ve ordered some books. And then ignored them while I went to movies.

So. We’ll see what the rest of June brings.

 

 

*I’m never getting married. BECAUSE HE WILL MURDER ME ON VACATION.

 

In which I make my mother cry.

So. Hey. It’s been…a few weeks. APPARENTLY being happy isn’t conducive to blogging. Being bitter and obnoxious is, I guess. But happy? No.

But! Today was very special. Because my baby brother went to his last day of high school and he’s growing up and graduating on Sunday and he’s so smart and so awesome and I love him so much and…*sob*

*ahem*

ANYWAY.

Yesterday was his second to last day, and I ended up picking him up from school.

I used to do that a lot, because of various circumstances. (Like the circumstance where I refused to buy a car.) I don’t do it so often anymore- he’s older now and I don’t drive my parents’ cars anymore. But yesterday for whatever reason I did.

I loved picking him up. I loved listening to him talk about his day and his classes and the (perceived) problems he was having with something chemistry- or math-related. I didn’t understand what he was saying, but I tried to murmur helpfully.

(And they were never actual problems. They were more like, oh, this test might knock my semester average down to a 108%.)

I loved hearing him talk about his music and musicians; again, I didn’t know their names, but I knew they were important to him.

Mostly I loved watching him turn into a smart, funny, wonderful young man who makes us all so unbelievably proud, and will pretend to crash the Nativity with me.

 

I love you, buddy.