Thursday, February 09, 2006


Until a revolutionary meeting yesterday, this had been the extent of my relationship with my primary PhD advisor:

Advisor: We need to arrange a meeting to discuss your PhD plan for this term.
Me: Okay. I can meet Mon and Tues of this week or Thu and Fri of the following week.
Advisor: Excellent. Wednesdays are great for me, too.

Yesterday I had a major plan of reverse psychology to march into her office and ask, "So. When was the exact point in time that you decided I was mentally retarded?" But instead she said, Do this; change this; rewrite this. You're doing everything correctly. And to be honest, you've always worked faster than we can keep up with you. You're almost done, you know. I was absolutely floored.

The words You're almost done scrolled through my mind like a bright red digital marquee board all night long. I mean, I had planned on finishing my PhD in at most three years (it's been two as of now), as I am a psychotic workaholic. I completed my three-year MFA in two years. I have problems with stagnancy and boredom - everything must always be in motion and changing all the time. Why do you think I move around and travel so much?

Only question now is: Where the hell am I gonna live when the summer is over? London still? New York again? Pluto? Saturn? Jupiter? Am I really mentally prepared to pack up my life again and haul my ass off somewhere else? Damn my boyfriend for making me fall in love with him and his wanting us to move back to NYC together. 'Cuz I sure as shit am beyond tired of living apart.

In the mean time, this afternoon I will book trips to France, Portugal and Sicily during the weeks of March that I'm not off somewhere in the UK giving conference presentations.

A white boy who makes C's in college can make it to the White House. - Chris Rock