The Only Thing a Dissertation Cares About

So, hubs and I both gave a presentation for our department's Graduate Student Colloquium on Friday.  Here we are pre-presentation:

It was probably the only time we'll ever present together...unless we author a paper together, which might be something we'd consider in the future.  It was a great experience.  We both got a lot of positive feedback, and it reminded me that I'm actually doing something I'm interested in and that I like and that I'm good at.

I'm telling you, writing a dissertation is like one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.  I'm used to getting by on being "smart."  What I'm saying is that I've always defined myself by making good grades, being a good student, etc.  I've basically been a nerd my whole life.  What I'm learning, though, is that you can be the smartest, most intellectual person in the world, but as far as writing a dissertation goes, it means nothing.  Dissertations really don't give a flip about how smart you are.  They really don't.  The only thing a dissertation responds to is getting your butt in a chair and getting your fingers on a keyboard and hammering it out.  That's it.  It takes sheer work.  An iron will.  Showing up.  Consistently getting all your little fancy ideas spelled out into a Word doc.  The only thing a dissertation cares about is your hustle.

I've had some pretty dreary days.  Days where I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing or why I ever thought this would be a good idea.  I have days where I feel uber overwhelmed and where my desired future seems so far away.  I have days where I feel woefully unprepared and like at any minute someone out there who actually has it all together could walk up to me, rip off my facade and expose me as the fraud I am.  Some pretty dark and somber things get cooked up in my brain stew when I'm locked away in this garret of a library carrel.  But presenting like I did last Friday is a little bright spot that reminds me that despite my feelings of insecurity, I must be doing something right.

Another little bright spot: I got my first call back for an interview!  Funny story: I originally applied for a generalist position at this small liberal arts institution about halfway between each of our families. It was the first job I applied for because it had the earliest application deadline.  So, they emailed me back and asked me to apply for another position they had open because it was more in line with my credentials.  When I took a look at it, I realized that it was for Afro-Latin American studies!  There is only one other position I'm applying for specifically looking for someone in that area of specialization.  They must have posted it after I applied for the first one.  It made me feel good because obviously they were interested in me if they asked me to apply for another position in the department.  So, anyway, we'll see.

For now, back to writing...

In the Moment

So, we were riding along on a beautiful autumn afternoon, windows down, admiring the gorgeous fall colors on the trees.  "I love being in this moment with you, baby."  Yes, we unsarcastically say things like this to each other all the time, and it is mushy and gushy and wonderful.

We finally got to a stretch of road where there was a little bit of traffic, and slowed down, almost to a stop. Suddenly, we heard screeching brakes and I remember looking to see where it was coming from when...BOOM!  Someone rear ended the stank out of us.

While adrenaline was coursing through my veins and I was shaking and tearing up, my husband slowly pulls over, puts the car in park and asks if I'm okay.  Then he calmly gets the insurance info out of the glove compartment and gets out to exchange info with the culprit, an old wrinkled up man in a bow tie.  Homeboy tore the bumper almost completely off.

I didn't even get out of the car.  I called the police so we could file a police report, but I just stayed put.

Even though I was a little shaken and highly annoyed at the carelessness of the man who hit us (you "didn't see us"?  Dude, we were practically stopped for about a minute or so before you came plowing into us.  It's almost like hitting a parked car and claiming not to have seen it), I was very thankful for a calm husband who just handled it.

Although it sucks to have a messed up car and now to deal with the insurance stuff (which he's handling now, too), I realized that even though getting rear ended wasn't as beautiful as driving with the windows down and enjoying the fall colors, I was still in the moment with him.  It was a negative moment, but we were in it together.

I know that getting rear ended is probably the least of the negative things we will have to deal with throughout our marriage.  But I'm glad that I won't have to deal with the negative things that come in life on my own.

Confessions

1. Writing my dissertation is hard, and I'm behind on my writing schedule.

2. I should be in my library carrel right now, but I'm not.

3. My hair is dirty and I don't feel like washing it right now, so I'll probably throw on a hat and call it a day.

4. I asked my husband whether he'd had a thing for a certain girl in our department before we started dating, and once he admitted that he had, I immediately regretted asking him.  Now, I feel stupid, not to mention hypocritical, for being bothered by it.

5. When I'm confronted with the fact that I am extremely blessed and have an overabundance of things to be thankful for, I feel convicted and I make a mental note to be more purposefully and explicitly grateful.  God knows I don't take it for granted.  But when I feel the way I feel this morning, it makes me feel bad again because I don't understand why it's so easy for the security of knowing that I am blessed slip away from me.

6. After all this time, I am still uncomfortable with uncertainty and I still struggle with trying to control my life, all the while knowing how futile it is.

7. Sometimes when my husband is asleep and I'm still awake, I look at him and wonder why I married someone so different from me and why he married someone so different from him.

8. A professor took me out to lunch this week to celebrate my getting an article published.  It was originally a paper I wrote for her class.  She was giving me advice about applying for jobs, mentioning that I shouldn't count out applying for posts at flagships on the West Coast even though it's far from where I want to settle because after a year or two I could enter the job market again and it would look attractive on my CV and give me some leverage for a more desirable position in the future.  I wanted to tell her that I don't care about applying to places strategically, I don't care about increasing the attractiveness of my stupid CV, I don't care about being a successful academic.  I want to finish this program, get a job, settle down and start a family.  I'm tired of moving around and feeling unsettled.

Dream Job

So, there's this job I really want.

It just seems perfect.  They're looking for someone who specializes in precisely what I'm writing my dissertation about.  Not just a Latin Americanist who speaks Spanish fluently, but someone who specializes in the African Diaspora in Latin America.  Hello, that is SO me.

The place is a small liberal arts college, which is also so me because the emphasis in those kinds of institutions is teaching and at heart, I am and always will be a teacher.

The place is also on the East Coast and sits snugly between our families.

The place is also near a major metropolitan city but far enough away not to be smack dab in the hustle and bustle.

And, there's a little side story.  So, I came across the job posting, told myself that I was totally going for it, and then came across the posting again in a listserv for current and former holders of the prestigious fellowship I have now.  Soon after the posting went out, a member of the listserv who is a new hire at the dream job institution said, "Hey, if anyone is interested in applying, let me know, I was hired last year in the same department and we can chat about it."  I was like, um, me!  So, I sent him an email expressing my interest.  It also happened that he was going to the conference I just got back from and we arranged to meet up and chat.  It also happened that I was presenting at said conference and he agreed to come to my presentation.  In the end, we chatted, he had lots of positive things to say about the institution and the department and gave me positive feedback on my presentation.  It's not like he's on the search committee or anything, I mean, he was just hired last year, but at least he might put in a good word for me...maybe flag my application and be like, "Hey, I met her, I saw her present, she's also a recipient of the same prestigious fellowship I had, maybe we need to take a good look at her app."  Who knows?

But now, here I am, slogging away at my dissertation, having to apply to mad jobs while slogging away, and knowing that if I'm to land anything desirable in this competitive world of the academic job market, I MUST finish my dissertation.  No bones about it.

I'm trying to be open, trying not to drive myself (and my husband) crazy, and wanting to hope but not wanting to get my hopes up too high.  

If I could JUST finish.  Finish, get a job, and have a baby.  In that order.