So I went to a grad students party last night that was thrown by (and comprised of predominately) Comparative Literature people, and I have to say, I was seriously, seriously underwhelmed. C warned me beforehand that a lot of grad parties are like clique-y networking events, and furthermore, every Comp Lit party she'd ever been to was "filled with people talking loudly in various different languages just to show that they can."
She was basically right. While I can't (and wouldn't want to) say that I didn't like the people that I did meet (ok, minus this really creepy German lit guy who hit on me in the most awkward way possible...I think he thought that telling me the Greek or Roman or whatever meaning of his name was supposed to impress me or something), it was really hard to interact with people that I didn't already know beforehand.
On the upside, I met another girl who's in my cohort, and she seems pretty fabulous. She's 30 (!!!), but looks 24 (double !!!!), and has been teaching in LA for the past few years.
All in all, I guess I'm glad that my first experience with a grad party was so lame because it can only go up from there, right? Lets hope, because my orientation is tomorrow, and there is plenty of food, alcohol, and schmoozing that's scheduled throughout the day and night.
Showing posts with label cohort. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cohort. Show all posts
Monday, September 1, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
error! error!
School has not yet started (and in fact is a week away), but I have somehow already managed to commit a faux pas of potentially massive proportions.
To rewind: I had dinner tonight at a cute Korean restaurant with two people in my cohort, two fourth-year students, and an MA candidate. The conversation turned to politics in academic departments/the professors in our program, and in the course of the ensuing discussion, my advisor's name was brought up. Now this man, Professor E, is one of my academic idols. Not only was my personal statement basically an ode to his work, but my specific research interests are completely influenced by his scholarship. In other words, I need to get on his good side and camp out/build a three-story house there, because I will undoubtedly take all of his classes and fully intend on asking him to be my dissertation advisor.
The problem: according to W, one of the fourth-years who is also working with him, Professor E is a "diva" who needs to be massaged (his words, not mine!) more than the other faculty members. To get on his good side, one should constantly bring up topics he's interested in (and let him go on and on about them), and above all, always be respectful/show proper awe of his genius. Key words there: "respectful" and "proper awe."
Now anyone who knows me will know that I have a problem writing emails to professors. For some reason, I don't censor my words whatsoever and the resulting missives look like chummy (read: wildly inappropriate) correspondences that I would send to my closest friends. From admitting that I was cutting a professor's class because I had pulled an all-nighter to write his paper (which, to my defense, I attached in the email) to laying out my relationship drama in another TMI moment, I have basically written an unfortunate number of hilarious, but far from respectful, emails. (For some reason, this never came back to bite me during college, but I suspect that the small liberal arts college environment meant that all of my professors were incredibly friendly/down-to-earth, and oftentimes treated the students like colleagues).
Anyways, halfway through the conversation at dinner, I had a sudden, horrifying realization: I had sent Professor E an email about two days ago regarding a meeting that we were supposed to have during the first week of classes. While I didn't remember exactly what I had said, I knew that it was written in classic "me" fashion, and when I came home and checked the actual text, my worst fears were confirmed. Not only did I apologize for the "somewhat lateness" of the email, but I had blamed this tardiness on "summer senility" and then signed the correspondence with "hope your summer went swimmingly."
Somehow, I don't think that is going to be taken as a sign of respect/proper awe of genius, and as someone who is probably not used to student email-writing styles like mine, I'm not sure how Professor E will take it. In any case, I am terrified that he thinks that I'm disrespectful or else am blowing him off with attitude, and has formed some kind of horrible impression of what type of person/student I am. Oh why did I let our hour-long conversation about trashy reality shows (during the admitted students dinner) lull me into a false sense of security? New end-of-the-summer resolution: learn to write proper, respectful emails ASAP!
To rewind: I had dinner tonight at a cute Korean restaurant with two people in my cohort, two fourth-year students, and an MA candidate. The conversation turned to politics in academic departments/the professors in our program, and in the course of the ensuing discussion, my advisor's name was brought up. Now this man, Professor E, is one of my academic idols. Not only was my personal statement basically an ode to his work, but my specific research interests are completely influenced by his scholarship. In other words, I need to get on his good side and camp out/build a three-story house there, because I will undoubtedly take all of his classes and fully intend on asking him to be my dissertation advisor.
The problem: according to W, one of the fourth-years who is also working with him, Professor E is a "diva" who needs to be massaged (his words, not mine!) more than the other faculty members. To get on his good side, one should constantly bring up topics he's interested in (and let him go on and on about them), and above all, always be respectful/show proper awe of his genius. Key words there: "respectful" and "proper awe."
Now anyone who knows me will know that I have a problem writing emails to professors. For some reason, I don't censor my words whatsoever and the resulting missives look like chummy (read: wildly inappropriate) correspondences that I would send to my closest friends. From admitting that I was cutting a professor's class because I had pulled an all-nighter to write his paper (which, to my defense, I attached in the email) to laying out my relationship drama in another TMI moment, I have basically written an unfortunate number of hilarious, but far from respectful, emails. (For some reason, this never came back to bite me during college, but I suspect that the small liberal arts college environment meant that all of my professors were incredibly friendly/down-to-earth, and oftentimes treated the students like colleagues).
Anyways, halfway through the conversation at dinner, I had a sudden, horrifying realization: I had sent Professor E an email about two days ago regarding a meeting that we were supposed to have during the first week of classes. While I didn't remember exactly what I had said, I knew that it was written in classic "me" fashion, and when I came home and checked the actual text, my worst fears were confirmed. Not only did I apologize for the "somewhat lateness" of the email, but I had blamed this tardiness on "summer senility" and then signed the correspondence with "hope your summer went swimmingly."
Somehow, I don't think that is going to be taken as a sign of respect/proper awe of genius, and as someone who is probably not used to student email-writing styles like mine, I'm not sure how Professor E will take it. In any case, I am terrified that he thinks that I'm disrespectful or else am blowing him off with attitude, and has formed some kind of horrible impression of what type of person/student I am. Oh why did I let our hour-long conversation about trashy reality shows (during the admitted students dinner) lull me into a false sense of security? New end-of-the-summer resolution: learn to write proper, respectful emails ASAP!
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
books, mates, and pests
The great thing about having friends with excellent reading tastes is that you inevitably get introduced to new works of literature (or, in my case, hover above their bookshelves and surreptitiously steal their favorites when they're not looking). Most recently, having crashed with my friend R twice in the past four days (once for a potluck, once for a charming -albeit ultimately boring- silent film in the park near her house), I have had the extreme pleasure of reading Jhumpa Lahiri's Unaccustomed Earth and Rabih Alameddine's The Hakawati. I would recommend both without hesitation--Unaccustomed Earth is, as Lahiri's writing always is, understated but powerfully moving, while The Hakawati had me laughing out loud with its wry, witty humor. (Also: did I just do one of those vague, adjective-driven book reviews that really tells you nothing about the book? Yes. Gross. Please forgive me now.)
Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately?), my classes start on September 3, so I will have less time for engrossing novels, and instead, will probably be suffering my way through Shakespeare or some other incomprehensible and yet canonical work whilst still trying my damnedest to keep up with my theory. The Anthropology professors still haven't emailed me back about the syllabus or the audit, but I'm going to wait a few more days before sending another friendly request (at least for the audit).
Classes starting also means my cohort is starting to slowly trickle into the city. One of the girls in the program (who happens to live in my building) is coming on Friday, while another two that I know are moving in within the week. It's exciting and nervewracking to have them come--I worry about getting along with them (I mean, it's a damned long program and there's so few of us!), but I'm also excited to make new friends. Which is also complicated because hell, I went to school right outside of the city for four years, and guess what, I already have amazing friends in the city that I plan on spending my time with. It's a tricky balancing act, and I'm not sure how it's going to work out...but dammit, I will work it out, I will be a social butterfly (HA), I will be a maker of new friends and a keeper of old ones as well. Go team!
Anyways, on the home front: the mice have managed to eat the peanut butter clean from two of my traps while still remaining alive (and not even setting them off at all!). They are clearly taunting me. I re-baited my traps (alas, more delicious peanut butter lost to the cause!) and am waiting to avenge myself for this latest humiliation. THIS MEANS WAR!
Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately?), my classes start on September 3, so I will have less time for engrossing novels, and instead, will probably be suffering my way through Shakespeare or some other incomprehensible and yet canonical work whilst still trying my damnedest to keep up with my theory. The Anthropology professors still haven't emailed me back about the syllabus or the audit, but I'm going to wait a few more days before sending another friendly request (at least for the audit).
Classes starting also means my cohort is starting to slowly trickle into the city. One of the girls in the program (who happens to live in my building) is coming on Friday, while another two that I know are moving in within the week. It's exciting and nervewracking to have them come--I worry about getting along with them (I mean, it's a damned long program and there's so few of us!), but I'm also excited to make new friends. Which is also complicated because hell, I went to school right outside of the city for four years, and guess what, I already have amazing friends in the city that I plan on spending my time with. It's a tricky balancing act, and I'm not sure how it's going to work out...but dammit, I will work it out, I will be a social butterfly (HA), I will be a maker of new friends and a keeper of old ones as well. Go team!
Anyways, on the home front: the mice have managed to eat the peanut butter clean from two of my traps while still remaining alive (and not even setting them off at all!). They are clearly taunting me. I re-baited my traps (alas, more delicious peanut butter lost to the cause!) and am waiting to avenge myself for this latest humiliation. THIS MEANS WAR!
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
admissions visit OVER
So after worrying myself for weeks about my cohort (too old! too boring! too much love for dead white men!), I am back from my admissions visit, refreshed (ok, not really; there wasn't nearly enough sleep involved) and incredibly excited about the coming fall. To start out with, my cohort = fabulous and not at all what I was expecting/dreading. While there are a good number of people who took time off, got their masters, etc., there are also two others besides me who are still undergrads, and it really wasn't noticeable who was older and/or who had more experience. Best of all, I really bonded with three people (one has my research interests, only flipped -postcolonial with a hint of Asian/American-, one is a totally fabulous qpoc with interests in Asian diasporic writing, one loves shopping and clubbing and is going to be my golddigging buddy -totally kidding, totally kidding-) and even had tentative roommate conversations with two of these lovely ladies.
With regards to the current grad students: again, FABULOUS. A lot of people have diverse interests and are also into theory, but regardless, they're all a really friendly and supportive bunch of people. (Also, apparently the third years are the "queer year," with 9 out of 11 grads self-identifying as queer. While my cohort cannot match these amazing statistics -I think there are only three of us who identify?-, we already have the most skewed gender ratio -at the visit, around 12 women to 2 men-. Dubious distinction, I know.)
As for the faculty...oh the faculty. Let me count the ways to love! They are so incredibly friendly (I know I keep repeating this adjective, but it's so true!) and collegial and it's seriously mindblowing considering the insane academic reputations that are involved. We had a dinner party at Professor L's house the first night, and I think I knew then that I was destined for the program. The crowning moment was when I was outside chainsmoking with Professors L* and E (both, incidentally, the reasons why I applied for the program) and talking about Project Runway, Big Brother, and a myriad of other bad programs (I mean really, who knew that academics were so into trashy reality shows? It was seriously amazing).
I think, more than anything, I was really reassured that my program is where I'm supposed to be. I kept worrying that I was an admissions mistake (I was the ONLY person there who wasn't an English/Literature major in college and seriously glazed over when people were telling me about their interests in Renaissance drama or modernist blah blah blah or whatever), but in the end, it was really good to connect with the professors on a really substantive level and (ego moment!) to be told by Professor S -who was on the admissions committee- that my application was one of the few that really stood out to her.
In any case, I've already turned in my deposit and official acceptance for the program, and at this point, am counting down the days til I get to go back and start my grad school career for real.
*L who, incidentally, "quit smoking" fourteen years ago. Apparently she survives by bumming cigarettes off of her students after seminars. LOVE
With regards to the current grad students: again, FABULOUS. A lot of people have diverse interests and are also into theory, but regardless, they're all a really friendly and supportive bunch of people. (Also, apparently the third years are the "queer year," with 9 out of 11 grads self-identifying as queer. While my cohort cannot match these amazing statistics -I think there are only three of us who identify?-, we already have the most skewed gender ratio -at the visit, around 12 women to 2 men-. Dubious distinction, I know.)
As for the faculty...oh the faculty. Let me count the ways to love! They are so incredibly friendly (I know I keep repeating this adjective, but it's so true!) and collegial and it's seriously mindblowing considering the insane academic reputations that are involved. We had a dinner party at Professor L's house the first night, and I think I knew then that I was destined for the program. The crowning moment was when I was outside chainsmoking with Professors L* and E (both, incidentally, the reasons why I applied for the program) and talking about Project Runway, Big Brother, and a myriad of other bad programs (I mean really, who knew that academics were so into trashy reality shows? It was seriously amazing).
I think, more than anything, I was really reassured that my program is where I'm supposed to be. I kept worrying that I was an admissions mistake (I was the ONLY person there who wasn't an English/Literature major in college and seriously glazed over when people were telling me about their interests in Renaissance drama or modernist blah blah blah or whatever), but in the end, it was really good to connect with the professors on a really substantive level and (ego moment!) to be told by Professor S -who was on the admissions committee- that my application was one of the few that really stood out to her.
In any case, I've already turned in my deposit and official acceptance for the program, and at this point, am counting down the days til I get to go back and start my grad school career for real.
*L who, incidentally, "quit smoking" fourteen years ago. Apparently she survives by bumming cigarettes off of her students after seminars. LOVE
Saturday, March 22, 2008
worrywart, me? hop hop!
So the date of my admissions visit is drawing near (I'm supposed to do the whole wine&dine this coming Monday and Tuesday), and I'm starting to get really worried about meeting my cohort. Now normally, I wouldn't really care so much about this sort of thing, but given the fact that there are only ten other people in my class and I'm going to be with them for the next six years, I think it's pretty fair for me to freak out. In no particular order, my fears are:
1) I'm going to be the youngest person in my cohort (and not youngest like oh hey, we're separated by half a year; more like oh hey, you took three years off after your undergrad, got a masters, and now you're six years older than me and we can't relate to each other at all)
2) They're going to be standard, boring English people (aka those interested in dead white men and little else. I can't help it, my academic background -soc/anth and women's studies- makes me really, really wary of these sorts of people!) and my head will fall off when I try to talk to them (alright, maybe I'm more concerned about the first half of this sentence than the second...)
3) They will be super legit and scarily intellectual and find me totally frivolous/trivial for loving fashion and buying pretty clothes and having an insatiable appetite for things like PerezHilton and ANTM and so on and so forth (the list of the trashy celebrity blogs and reality shows that I keep up with is both utterly phenomenal and utterly embarrassing)
4) They will be old, boring, and engaged/married, and I will be forced to troll around the campus, desperately looking for people who will be my friends and go out to clubs and bars with me (WOE)
Granted some of my worries are admittedly ridiculous, but I can't help it! I'm seriously so nervous to meet everyone, and I just hope that I can find one person (alright, maybe I'm really aiming for three or four. High standards!) who I can really get along/engage with. We'll see how it goes. I'm keeping my fingers crossed, and I will definitely keep you all updated.
1) I'm going to be the youngest person in my cohort (and not youngest like oh hey, we're separated by half a year; more like oh hey, you took three years off after your undergrad, got a masters, and now you're six years older than me and we can't relate to each other at all)
2) They're going to be standard, boring English people (aka those interested in dead white men and little else. I can't help it, my academic background -soc/anth and women's studies- makes me really, really wary of these sorts of people!) and my head will fall off when I try to talk to them (alright, maybe I'm more concerned about the first half of this sentence than the second...)
3) They will be super legit and scarily intellectual and find me totally frivolous/trivial for loving fashion and buying pretty clothes and having an insatiable appetite for things like PerezHilton and ANTM and so on and so forth (the list of the trashy celebrity blogs and reality shows that I keep up with is both utterly phenomenal and utterly embarrassing)
4) They will be old, boring, and engaged/married, and I will be forced to troll around the campus, desperately looking for people who will be my friends and go out to clubs and bars with me (WOE)
Granted some of my worries are admittedly ridiculous, but I can't help it! I'm seriously so nervous to meet everyone, and I just hope that I can find one person (alright, maybe I'm really aiming for three or four. High standards!) who I can really get along/engage with. We'll see how it goes. I'm keeping my fingers crossed, and I will definitely keep you all updated.
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