Stream of consciousness...

I've just been in an odd mood the past several days. Somehow, circumstances have helped with that. I spent a good portion of the day insisting that I am NOT, in fact, a hospital administrator posing as a practicum student. Sigh.

This is a random strema of consciousness post.

Yesterday, some of us were in the office, and we were listening to Dick in a Box. The phone rang. We hit pause, and I stifled a giggle to answer the phone confidently with: "Psychology Clinic!"

In proposal news, I have taken to watching American Idol while working on the dissertation. I think that it's an intellectual stalemate...the show itself decreases my I.Q., but the proposal is intellectually stimulating...so I feel like it kind of evens out or something!

I'm a bit concerned that I am already sick of the project. I was out last night, and another student said that she was looking forward to reading it. I squeaked out just enough enthusiasm to not come off like a total bitch...but I'm kind of going 'eh. yeah. my dissertation. yawn.'

My inner teenager is sneaking out more and more. I can count at least five times this week alone that I've passive-aggressively folded my arms, slouched in a chair, rolled my eyes, and sighed: "It's not like it really matters!!!"

I also broke out a carefully phrased truth (which complements the slouching teenager stuff nicely.) For example, I'm in this absolutely dreadful quantitative methods class. I have not done the reading. It's my last semester of course work...keep in mind that I have taken -- if summer courses count -- 17 semesters of course work in this department. I have not even purchased the damn reading packet. It turns out that next class is the last one before the midterm. We will be spending the time reviewing the *cough* assignments *cough.* Now, the assignments are in the little reading packet that I have not yet purchased. I have another draft of the proposal due on Sunday, and it needs a lot more work. So, I realized that, shit, I'm going to have to do 6 weeks of work this week! Then I realized, wait, maybe we don't have to actually hand in the assignments. So, instead of owning up not having done the work, I instead asked:

"Are our notebook scrawlings acceptable, or should we type up our work to hand it in?"

The professor kindly noted that "notebook scrawlings are fine" because we won't be handing them in. As a classmate later jabbed "oh, yeah, cuz you have TONS of notebook scrawlings, don' t you?" It reminds me of how we'd answer my friend's mothers in high school...they'd ask what we'd be doing that night, and we'd answer, dripping with sarcasm, our actual plans. "We're going to go to the coffee shop, smoke some pot, and ride in cars with boys."

Almost freaked out

So, I got an e-mail from the director today, letting me know that he is now my academic advisor. (This is actually a positive turn of events. I am supposed to meet with my advisor once a semester. I have met with her once. My first week here. She told me to do yoga, and that was about it. Now, when I see her, she guiltily tells me that she'll contact me soon.)

So, the e-mail from my director/advisor tells me that there is a note attached to my file that I still need to take course # whatever. He asks me if I've "cleared that up." At this point, a stream of obscenities leaves my mouth. My eyes well with tears. (The context of this is my current feverish achiness, and the history of my departement Screwing Things Up.) This was immediately tacked on to the list including: forgetting to give me my MA, suddenly realizing that there's a policy requiring me to take another class, and sending me a letter telling me that I passed comps before anyone had actually read my comps.

I took a breath, tried to calm down, but then shouted to where my sick husband was reading in the bedroom: "God DAMNIT, now they're saying I have to take another GOD DAMN class!" At this point, I manage to breathe enough to get it together long enough to grab my graduate manual. With shaking hands, I opened to the page that lists the course numbers.

Oh.

It's the class I'm currently enrolled in.

False alarm.

Sometimes it's hard not to be a smart-ass...

So, student athletes from certain teams have signed waivers to have their coaches know about their academic performance throughout the semester. I just got the form for one of my students. I want to answer the questions, and to do so honestly....but....well....it's hard not to be a smartass on some of the questions.

Attendance to date: "spotty." "infrequent." "rarely attends, and yet still frequently tardy..." "sometimes stands outside classroom without entering."

Student needs further help in: Attendance. Class participation. Remembering to answer all questions on tests.

Specific suggestions for student: "Student, you should attend class more often. On days that you do attend try to get here on time, or at least with more than 10 minutes left in the class period. Oh, and when you get here, you should come IN here. Like, actually enter the classroom and sit down at a desk.

When you take a multiple choice test, you should answer all of the questions. In the future, you should DEFINITELY answer more than half of the questions. You do have a 1 in 4 shot at being right, you know!"

The funny thing is, I really do like this student. He's not stupid, either. It's just, well...to answer honestly makes me sound like an ass! You would think that suggestions would be things like:" spend more time reviewing the textbook," or "try the online tutorial!" But, really, I think the two things that would improve this student's grade are for him to show up, and answer the questions!

Sitcom moments...

It's been a while since I've posted...you know...busy, all that jazz ;). And, of course, last weekend was busy b/c my dear husband was busy defending. :)

But, my clinic-based reality show has new material.

I was on the phone with my friend while I was up in the Psychology Clinic, discussing a dream she had the night before. (We are doctoral psych students, after all!)

Friend: "Hey, I'm driving by the Clinic right now!"
Me: *Goes over to the window* "Oh, hey, I can see you!"
Friend: "Can you? Really?"
Me: "Yeah, I'm waving at you! Can you see me?"
Friend: *Turning to look* Let me see.
(At this point, I watch my friend plow into the car in front of her.)
Friend: "Oh, shit! I just hit that guy! Umm...I'll call you back."
Then, I watch from the window as she and the guy pull over, get out, and assess the damage. (For the record, the occupants and cars were fine!)

The other incident was quite different, but also involved a mixture of comedy and tragedy.
Scene: The library, after my husband's defense and before his outside reader's lecture.
Professor on my committee: *Making attempt at small talk* "So....have your proposal meeting yet?"
Me: "Umm. No..." (Oh...shit! You're ON the committee....oh....fuck!!!....you don't REMEMBER, do you?) *laughing slightly* Ummm....but....I'll tell you when it is!
POMC: "Oh. Am I on your committee?"
Me: (How can you have FORGOTTEN?!? We talked about this for HOURS!!!!) *laughing again, a bit defensively* "Well...you said you were!"
POMC: "Well, okay. I believe you! What's it about?"
Me: *describes briefly* "Sound familiar?"
POMC: No!
Me: (Why the hell do I even bother around here?!?) *Smiles weakly*
POMC: Ummm...am I on anyone else's committee?

In Director Tracking News, I had managed to schedule with the Director earlier in the week. He cancelled. (Well, sort of...he never told me where to meet him, and when I sent him an awkward e-mail asking if we were still on, he swore, apologized, and told me he couldn't make it...)

I have, however, received his comments on my proposal. So, at least I can start working on it.

I think it's time to start taking bets on the odds of getting my committee into one room at the same time to have a proposal meeting!