Remember this. Well I've finally worked up the courage to try again. A friend got sick recently, and it reminded me that I needed to get a checkup. I related my experience and she told me what a wonderful doctor she had, so easy to get an appointment with, really nice and respectful and what great care she was getting. Call him she said. You won't be disappointed.
So yesterday I called. Here's how it went.
Call #1: There is an automated system, you pick numbers to get you to the right person. When I get to who I think is the right person there is a voicemail box. I start to leave a message and the system hangs up on me.
Call #2: I call back and choose the option to "speak to a person". Someone answers, I tell her my plight and she transfers me to the same voicemail box that hung up on me 5 minutes before. Hang up again.
Call #3: I call press 4, press 1, I'm in and this time, it let me leave a message!
I sit in my office by my phone for an hour. During lunch I go for a walk. During the hours that the automated message say is lunch for the whole doctor's office. I miss the return call.
Call #4: repeat call #1
Call #5: repeat call #3
Wait, 30 more minutes and I have to go to a meeting that lasts the rest of the day.
Return to a voicemail that says: "I have tried to call you several times today to make a new patient appointment with no success, please call us back" -that is a direct quote, I have the google voice transcript to prove it.
GRRRRR. Here's what I think:
When I've had to leave as many messages as you have you don't get to express any type of annoyance.
When part of your job description is to answer the phone and you don't, you certainly do not get to imply any annoyance when I don't answer the phone. I don't get paid to do it. In fact during your working hours, I get paid to work, not hang around waiting for you to call me back.
Well, call #6 was placed to the voicemail box again this morning, I (possibly not so) politely asked if there was a specific time I could call and expect to reach a person since I have many appointments and meetings today.
If I don't have an appointment by the end of the day I guess I'll just randomly start calling doctors from the phone book.
Showing posts with label random rants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label random rants. Show all posts
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
How my healthcare is shortening my life
Today I called a doctor's office to set up a physical. 14 minutes and 27 seconds later, I hung up the phone. I was in tears and I didn't have an appointment.
This seemingly simple task, which should, in theory, be making me healthier in the long term, has now added stress and anxiety. I'm sure that the stress is killing all of my cells just a little faster than nature does on it's own.
What happened? Why is it that, I, an intelligent well-educated women, can't make a doctor's appointment? Well, I'm not entirely sure of all the details, but it was something about the insurance doesn't cover it, and the cost, and but when my husband came we didn't pay that, but that's because he had another condition so it wasn't just a "physical" and the bloodwork at our lab (>$200) versus the lab across campus ($15-and you pick up the results on the 2nd floor, we're on the 3rd). Finally when I said I would pay whatever, we got to picking a date, there was a question about birth control and well then, if you get pregnant we can't take care of you would need to see an OBGYN instead and that's two new patient visits in a year and that's not allowed and ?!?!?!?!?! I can recommend and OBGYN, you should call them instead, what hospital would you like to have your baby at if you did get pregnant? Huh? What?
Before you all freak out, I am not pregnant. I'm not planning to be, we've been batting around the idea. Let's say that we have always known we wanted a kid "someday" and "someday" is starting to seem closer. Right now, I just need a doctor to check my blood, bang my knees and look down my throat, or whatever a physical constitutes these day. I know most people don't do these things, but I have enough family history and friends with freaky illnesses that I think it's worth doing it every now and then.
To be honest I'm so confused and there are so many things wrong with this situation, I don't even know where to start. My blood pressure is raised, I want to cry more and I feel pretty crappy, all from trying to make sure I was healthy. We live in a stupid world. I had really bad experiences with doctors were we lived before this. I thought that it was just the particular location, my "northern" accent, or something else- but maybe it's just me.
Given my past experiences, I had a lot of anxiety about even picking up the phone, which is why I waited so long to do it. This time, I did my research, my husband has been seeing this doctor, many of my colleagues have been seeing this doctor, so, I bit the bullet, called the number and said exactly what everyone told me I needed to say to access the services I wanted. Yet still, I'm not getting those services.
We don't have stellar insurance here, I work for the state, and there is a substantial out-of-pocket amount (~$2500 per person) that you pay before you get covered. They cover really big stuff, but not the stuff most people actually need in order to avoid getting to the really big stuff. That's sucky model, but at least it's something. I suppose something is better than nothing. Although until I actually see a doctor, I feel like actually I have nothing.
I'm rambling, I know, but there has been a lot of talk lately about "healthcare reform" and "access to healthcare". If you don't think that we need it in this country, if you don't think that it's important and that really it's only going to help poor people and screw over the rich, you are wrong.
So healthcare naysayers take this nugget of information: I'm a university professor in my mid-30's with a "good health plan" and it seems that even I don't have "access to healthcare".
This seemingly simple task, which should, in theory, be making me healthier in the long term, has now added stress and anxiety. I'm sure that the stress is killing all of my cells just a little faster than nature does on it's own.
What happened? Why is it that, I, an intelligent well-educated women, can't make a doctor's appointment? Well, I'm not entirely sure of all the details, but it was something about the insurance doesn't cover it, and the cost, and but when my husband came we didn't pay that, but that's because he had another condition so it wasn't just a "physical" and the bloodwork at our lab (>$200) versus the lab across campus ($15-and you pick up the results on the 2nd floor, we're on the 3rd). Finally when I said I would pay whatever, we got to picking a date, there was a question about birth control and well then, if you get pregnant we can't take care of you would need to see an OBGYN instead and that's two new patient visits in a year and that's not allowed and ?!?!?!?!?! I can recommend and OBGYN, you should call them instead, what hospital would you like to have your baby at if you did get pregnant? Huh? What?
Before you all freak out, I am not pregnant. I'm not planning to be, we've been batting around the idea. Let's say that we have always known we wanted a kid "someday" and "someday" is starting to seem closer. Right now, I just need a doctor to check my blood, bang my knees and look down my throat, or whatever a physical constitutes these day. I know most people don't do these things, but I have enough family history and friends with freaky illnesses that I think it's worth doing it every now and then.
To be honest I'm so confused and there are so many things wrong with this situation, I don't even know where to start. My blood pressure is raised, I want to cry more and I feel pretty crappy, all from trying to make sure I was healthy. We live in a stupid world. I had really bad experiences with doctors were we lived before this. I thought that it was just the particular location, my "northern" accent, or something else- but maybe it's just me.
Given my past experiences, I had a lot of anxiety about even picking up the phone, which is why I waited so long to do it. This time, I did my research, my husband has been seeing this doctor, many of my colleagues have been seeing this doctor, so, I bit the bullet, called the number and said exactly what everyone told me I needed to say to access the services I wanted. Yet still, I'm not getting those services.
We don't have stellar insurance here, I work for the state, and there is a substantial out-of-pocket amount (~$2500 per person) that you pay before you get covered. They cover really big stuff, but not the stuff most people actually need in order to avoid getting to the really big stuff. That's sucky model, but at least it's something. I suppose something is better than nothing. Although until I actually see a doctor, I feel like actually I have nothing.
I'm rambling, I know, but there has been a lot of talk lately about "healthcare reform" and "access to healthcare". If you don't think that we need it in this country, if you don't think that it's important and that really it's only going to help poor people and screw over the rich, you are wrong.
So healthcare naysayers take this nugget of information: I'm a university professor in my mid-30's with a "good health plan" and it seems that even I don't have "access to healthcare".
Thursday, February 3, 2011
the biggest lie - part 2
I feel a little bit like I should apologize for that last post. It was...well....a bit angry. But, then when I think about that I get even angrier. Because the second part of the big lie is this: people make you feel like somehow it's your fault. Sure they express some sympathy, often coupled with some mumbled words of encouragement. But it's more then readily obvious that what they are really thinking...and likely what you are all really thinking is either a) this crazy ass-b**^$h clearly made some really bad choices, I'll nod and smile, but really she dug this hole for herself - that could never happen to me. or b) why is she whining so much at least she's the one who choose to move, really it's her fault.
Well world, stop lying to yourself. This could happen to you too. It was not our fault. In fact we were guilty of nothing more than bad timing. Actually there is a whole cohort of people who just happen to have bad timing. That's not our fault. We made the best decisions that we could. Based on this huge lie. A lie so big that most of the world holds it as truth - as I once did. The simple sad fact is this: we will never have it as good as we were raised to believe we would. We won't retire when we thought we would. We won't be able to send our kids to college like we thought we would. In fact, we might not even be able to afford kids at all. Straight-up we just got screwed. A whole damn generation of us. If you are part of my generation and you didn't get screwed, it's time to wake up and realize that you are just lucky. One different decision, one different perfectly rational viable choice and you could be me. It's just dumb luck, that's all. Dumb luck that I thought that maybe I would try to contribute to the world by teaching the next generation - so that they could find jobs.
And when it comes down to it that's what's really eating me. That universal belief that the lie perpetuates and the world or people I meet project right back at me: That I've done something wrong. Or if you believe in Karma or fate or whatever I must have brought this upon myself. Well I'll admit that I'm not a saint, but I'm certainly not the devil either. And if I get another life - man I'm going to whoop it up and make every bad, irresponsible choice I can think of, because it certainly doesn't seem to make a difference to keep making the rational ones.
So here it is:
Dear World,
I know that we all live with our choices, and I live with mine everyday. I don't regret them and 90% of you would have made the same ones in my shoes. Yes, I chose to become a professor and I knew that would require me to move. Yes, I chose to move again, because the financial nightmare of owning two houses is actually preferable to the horrid sexual harassment and all around just crappy treatment I received at my old job. I know what I've done to myself. Sometimes I get a little b*(%chy about it and for that I apologize. But just shut the hell up because I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG.
Thanks,
Dr. Rini
P.S. Just so you don't think I've lost my sparkling personality entirely - mostly I'm just all out of anything good on this particular issue - I leave you with this fantastic link found via ashpags on pinterest today. I'm trying to track down a way to buy it for my office - cause you know I teach all about air being "something".
Well world, stop lying to yourself. This could happen to you too. It was not our fault. In fact we were guilty of nothing more than bad timing. Actually there is a whole cohort of people who just happen to have bad timing. That's not our fault. We made the best decisions that we could. Based on this huge lie. A lie so big that most of the world holds it as truth - as I once did. The simple sad fact is this: we will never have it as good as we were raised to believe we would. We won't retire when we thought we would. We won't be able to send our kids to college like we thought we would. In fact, we might not even be able to afford kids at all. Straight-up we just got screwed. A whole damn generation of us. If you are part of my generation and you didn't get screwed, it's time to wake up and realize that you are just lucky. One different decision, one different perfectly rational viable choice and you could be me. It's just dumb luck, that's all. Dumb luck that I thought that maybe I would try to contribute to the world by teaching the next generation - so that they could find jobs.
And when it comes down to it that's what's really eating me. That universal belief that the lie perpetuates and the world or people I meet project right back at me: That I've done something wrong. Or if you believe in Karma or fate or whatever I must have brought this upon myself. Well I'll admit that I'm not a saint, but I'm certainly not the devil either. And if I get another life - man I'm going to whoop it up and make every bad, irresponsible choice I can think of, because it certainly doesn't seem to make a difference to keep making the rational ones.
So here it is:
Dear World,
I know that we all live with our choices, and I live with mine everyday. I don't regret them and 90% of you would have made the same ones in my shoes. Yes, I chose to become a professor and I knew that would require me to move. Yes, I chose to move again, because the financial nightmare of owning two houses is actually preferable to the horrid sexual harassment and all around just crappy treatment I received at my old job. I know what I've done to myself. Sometimes I get a little b*(%chy about it and for that I apologize. But just shut the hell up because I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG.
Thanks,
Dr. Rini
P.S. Just so you don't think I've lost my sparkling personality entirely - mostly I'm just all out of anything good on this particular issue - I leave you with this fantastic link found via ashpags on pinterest today. I'm trying to track down a way to buy it for my office - cause you know I teach all about air being "something".
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
The biggest lie
I've decided that the biggest lie that has ever been told to me is this:
"Real estate is always a good investment - you are building equity - rent is just throwing money out the door"
If you say this to someone, or something similar you are a Big. Fat. LIAR. Even if you believe this to be true - or by some miracle it was true for you - it is a LIE.
7 years ago we ventured into the realm of homeownership under this seriously misguided notion. The rent was going up, we were less and less happy with our landlords, interest rates were low, housing prices were reasonable. The conventional wisdom was that with 20% down you needed to stay in a home for ~3 years to balance it out and we were planning to stay in the area for at least 4 more years so it all made sense. I calculated it all out, we looked at a lot of houses and finally we went to the bank and gave them everything we had (and some we didn't) for the down-payment on a cute, little bungalow. Yea! - We were grownups! - Living the American dream. And if I'm going to be completely honest I loved that house - loved everything about it - it's old house quirks and tiny spaces - it was our home and it felt great to know that every penny I had saved during my working life was safely over our heads.
That is what you do. This is what we condition people to believe they are supposed to do. You by a "starter home" and "start" your life. "Real estate is always a good investment - you're building equity and not just giving you money away to some landlord"
5 years later, two PhDs in hand, we had to move, and we put our house on the market. About 30 nanoseconds later the news broke that there was a "global financial crisis" created by some a-holes somewhere. Turns out real estate was not a good investment - prices were down - way down. But we were so stupid that we just kept believing the lies the world kept feeding to us. Over the next 9 months we heard it all:
"starter homes are keeping their value" - LIE.
"small homes are still selling" - LIE
"it's picking up this month" - LIE
And so, still being brainwashed by that mantra "rent is a waste - your building equity" and believing the lies, we did what was quite possibly the stupidest thing ever and bought another house. The house we were going to live in forever - I was going to get tenure - we were going to have a baby - it had a spare bedroom for people to come visit. We were making this move in good faith and thought that we were on our way. It seemed important on many levels to have a real home - rent was more than the mortgage payment unless we wanted to live in a ghetto and the people at the bank gladly gave us the mortgage - "oh you're small house will sell soon - that part of the market is doing fine - you have so much equity in it that it's no problem"
Six months in, two mortgage payments became a burden, and this was turning out to be a giant disaster. These were the worst times of my life. The stress was unbelievable and somehow people just kept telling us this was our fault. Our fault - we did what we were supposed to do - we had 20% down - we made all of our payments - we weren't flipflopped - but if you were having housing trouble somehow you were part of the problem and not just a victim. Turns out the world really does love to lie to you.
Finally, we threw in the towel and reluctantly became landlords - we kept "building more equity" - in both our homes. Since we were still just starting out, equity in our multiple houses was really all we had, savings were quite limited and we were contending with that damn two-body thing so they weren't growing at any rate to speak of. But it was ok, we were building equity in real estate! I was optimistic that it would all work out. We were just investing our money someplace else, some people invest in stocks and bonds and mutual funds. We were investing in real estate (reluctantly) but "real estate is always a good investment", "real estate is how all the rich people got rich" LIES! LIES! LIES! They are all lies.
So here we are - 6.5 years after buying our first home. We own two houses - we don't live in either of them - in fact we are living in someone else's house -essentially we are squatters. We are two people who are addressed as Doctor on a regular basis and we don't even have a home of our own.
For most of you this is not really news, so why am I bitching about it. Well, our renters are leaving, so we're putting the first house back on the market and trying to find a renter for the second house and to be honest, I am officially out of optimism. I'm no longer beleiving the lies, and you shouldn't either. Real estate is not a good investment - we were not building equity - and I've run the numbers - 6 years of rent just about equals what we stand to lose by selling our two homes at "fair" market value. That is if we can find someone to offer us "fair" market value. If we took the last offer we would lose even more because it was so low we wouldn't even be able to pay of the mortgage - it would cost us MORE money. Building equity my butt. Yup you read that right. I would have more money in the bank if I had just "thrown it all away" to rent.
Many of my older acquaintances have said - well that just the way it is - cut your loses and run. Which is likely what we'll end up doing. That, however, is a very hard thing to swallow. I know that everyone is losing money - investments are shrinking - retirements are being delayed. But here's the thing - we made our "start" by giving it all we had. We're not talking about losing some money on paper - or retiring a year later - or not taking a vacation. We're talking about losing everything we have. We'll be better off then some, I know that and I'm grateful. We'll find another roof to put over our heads - likely an apartment smaller than the one we started off in years ago - We'll put food on the table - and we'll start all over and save every penny so that in a year or two - in our mid-30s we can buy another starter home. Maybe. Right now the only benefit I see to home ownership is that you can paint the walls - so I'm not so sure I want to do it again.
But one thing is for sure - I'll never ever again believe that "real estate is always a good investment - that we're building equity or that rent is just throwing away money".
Maybe our luck will change - maybe in 6 months I'll be doing what I'd like to be doing and settling into a home - a home were we can think about having a kid and living our life and growing old. But for now all of those things are on hold. So, I think the whole world should do the next generation a favor and JUST STOP LYING. I know I not singing that song anymore.
I don't regret my choices, I made them in good faith and I believed at the time that I was making the right ones. I'm just hoping that someday I'll no longer be haunted by them.
ETA: I almost forgot the best part - a few weeks ago it looked like we were going to have renters in both houses - so just out of curiousity we called a bank to see what the possibility of getting a third mortgage would be given the other two essentially become investments. The kind lady told us they would approve us for a loan up to. Wait for it.
$400,000. That, my friends, is more then we paid for the other two houses - combined?! A loan of that value - the purchase price would be higher. So all that BS you hear about no one giving mortgages and that's killing the housing market...it's a lie too.
"Real estate is always a good investment - you are building equity - rent is just throwing money out the door"
If you say this to someone, or something similar you are a Big. Fat. LIAR. Even if you believe this to be true - or by some miracle it was true for you - it is a LIE.
7 years ago we ventured into the realm of homeownership under this seriously misguided notion. The rent was going up, we were less and less happy with our landlords, interest rates were low, housing prices were reasonable. The conventional wisdom was that with 20% down you needed to stay in a home for ~3 years to balance it out and we were planning to stay in the area for at least 4 more years so it all made sense. I calculated it all out, we looked at a lot of houses and finally we went to the bank and gave them everything we had (and some we didn't) for the down-payment on a cute, little bungalow. Yea! - We were grownups! - Living the American dream. And if I'm going to be completely honest I loved that house - loved everything about it - it's old house quirks and tiny spaces - it was our home and it felt great to know that every penny I had saved during my working life was safely over our heads.
That is what you do. This is what we condition people to believe they are supposed to do. You by a "starter home" and "start" your life. "Real estate is always a good investment - you're building equity and not just giving you money away to some landlord"
5 years later, two PhDs in hand, we had to move, and we put our house on the market. About 30 nanoseconds later the news broke that there was a "global financial crisis" created by some a-holes somewhere. Turns out real estate was not a good investment - prices were down - way down. But we were so stupid that we just kept believing the lies the world kept feeding to us. Over the next 9 months we heard it all:
"starter homes are keeping their value" - LIE.
"small homes are still selling" - LIE
"it's picking up this month" - LIE
And so, still being brainwashed by that mantra "rent is a waste - your building equity" and believing the lies, we did what was quite possibly the stupidest thing ever and bought another house. The house we were going to live in forever - I was going to get tenure - we were going to have a baby - it had a spare bedroom for people to come visit. We were making this move in good faith and thought that we were on our way. It seemed important on many levels to have a real home - rent was more than the mortgage payment unless we wanted to live in a ghetto and the people at the bank gladly gave us the mortgage - "oh you're small house will sell soon - that part of the market is doing fine - you have so much equity in it that it's no problem"
Six months in, two mortgage payments became a burden, and this was turning out to be a giant disaster. These were the worst times of my life. The stress was unbelievable and somehow people just kept telling us this was our fault. Our fault - we did what we were supposed to do - we had 20% down - we made all of our payments - we weren't flipflopped - but if you were having housing trouble somehow you were part of the problem and not just a victim. Turns out the world really does love to lie to you.
Finally, we threw in the towel and reluctantly became landlords - we kept "building more equity" - in both our homes. Since we were still just starting out, equity in our multiple houses was really all we had, savings were quite limited and we were contending with that damn two-body thing so they weren't growing at any rate to speak of. But it was ok, we were building equity in real estate! I was optimistic that it would all work out. We were just investing our money someplace else, some people invest in stocks and bonds and mutual funds. We were investing in real estate (reluctantly) but "real estate is always a good investment", "real estate is how all the rich people got rich" LIES! LIES! LIES! They are all lies.
So here we are - 6.5 years after buying our first home. We own two houses - we don't live in either of them - in fact we are living in someone else's house -essentially we are squatters. We are two people who are addressed as Doctor on a regular basis and we don't even have a home of our own.
For most of you this is not really news, so why am I bitching about it. Well, our renters are leaving, so we're putting the first house back on the market and trying to find a renter for the second house and to be honest, I am officially out of optimism. I'm no longer beleiving the lies, and you shouldn't either. Real estate is not a good investment - we were not building equity - and I've run the numbers - 6 years of rent just about equals what we stand to lose by selling our two homes at "fair" market value. That is if we can find someone to offer us "fair" market value. If we took the last offer we would lose even more because it was so low we wouldn't even be able to pay of the mortgage - it would cost us MORE money. Building equity my butt. Yup you read that right. I would have more money in the bank if I had just "thrown it all away" to rent.
Many of my older acquaintances have said - well that just the way it is - cut your loses and run. Which is likely what we'll end up doing. That, however, is a very hard thing to swallow. I know that everyone is losing money - investments are shrinking - retirements are being delayed. But here's the thing - we made our "start" by giving it all we had. We're not talking about losing some money on paper - or retiring a year later - or not taking a vacation. We're talking about losing everything we have. We'll be better off then some, I know that and I'm grateful. We'll find another roof to put over our heads - likely an apartment smaller than the one we started off in years ago - We'll put food on the table - and we'll start all over and save every penny so that in a year or two - in our mid-30s we can buy another starter home. Maybe. Right now the only benefit I see to home ownership is that you can paint the walls - so I'm not so sure I want to do it again.
But one thing is for sure - I'll never ever again believe that "real estate is always a good investment - that we're building equity or that rent is just throwing away money".
Maybe our luck will change - maybe in 6 months I'll be doing what I'd like to be doing and settling into a home - a home were we can think about having a kid and living our life and growing old. But for now all of those things are on hold. So, I think the whole world should do the next generation a favor and JUST STOP LYING. I know I not singing that song anymore.
I don't regret my choices, I made them in good faith and I believed at the time that I was making the right ones. I'm just hoping that someday I'll no longer be haunted by them.
ETA: I almost forgot the best part - a few weeks ago it looked like we were going to have renters in both houses - so just out of curiousity we called a bank to see what the possibility of getting a third mortgage would be given the other two essentially become investments. The kind lady told us they would approve us for a loan up to. Wait for it.
$400,000. That, my friends, is more then we paid for the other two houses - combined?! A loan of that value - the purchase price would be higher. So all that BS you hear about no one giving mortgages and that's killing the housing market...it's a lie too.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Drive by blogging
Well, It's been awhile since I've blogged about anything. This is mainly because I've been quite busy and never seem to have the time to sit down and write a full-on post. So I'm going to try something new this year. I will only write what I can write in 10 minutes. Hopefully this will lead to more posts and less lengthy reads. If I feel like I really want to go in depth on something I might, but I won't put it off until I find the hour to do it. Instead I'll do the 10 minute version. This has been inspired by my friend who just started her first blog. She is attempting to walk more miles then she drives her car this year and is only going to commit 5 minutes a day to any particular blog post about the experience. (As a side note: I might join her in this venture, or at the very least keep track of how much I bike/walk in comparison to how much I drive this year).
So in the spirit of my new drive-by blogging style here is the list of things I wanted to blog about in the last few months but didn't because I never really felt I'd give them justice.
1) The GQ "rock stars of science": many, many, many, many people have many things to say about this campaign. I for one applaud the effort but am mighty offended that GQ and Geoffrey Beene seem to think science = medicine. Let's clarify that: Medicine is a subset of science. If we want to encourage young people to enter science we should show them that. Let's face it, there's never a shortage of people who want to become doctors and make money. But finding those who want to save the climate, clean the air we breathe and the water we drink, learn how people relate to each other, grow our food better....or about a billion other issues that area really relevant to society to day...we have a severe shortage of candidates for those jobs. Science is bigger than the medical fields. WAY bigger. And all of it is just as important and saves just as many lives, although in a less tangible way. Where are those rock stars?
2) This guy. I could rant for way more than 10 minutes about this. Since the average american doesn't even understand what science is (as evidenced by #1 above), how about we just leave the peer-review process to the actual scientists. NSF is really respected and has one of the most rigorous review processes around. Actual scientists regard it as some of the hardest funding to get. Ugh, just Ugh America.
Times up for now, but man I really had some stuff to say about those science cheerleaders too...
So in the spirit of my new drive-by blogging style here is the list of things I wanted to blog about in the last few months but didn't because I never really felt I'd give them justice.
1) The GQ "rock stars of science": many, many, many, many people have many things to say about this campaign. I for one applaud the effort but am mighty offended that GQ and Geoffrey Beene seem to think science = medicine. Let's clarify that: Medicine is a subset of science. If we want to encourage young people to enter science we should show them that. Let's face it, there's never a shortage of people who want to become doctors and make money. But finding those who want to save the climate, clean the air we breathe and the water we drink, learn how people relate to each other, grow our food better....or about a billion other issues that area really relevant to society to day...we have a severe shortage of candidates for those jobs. Science is bigger than the medical fields. WAY bigger. And all of it is just as important and saves just as many lives, although in a less tangible way. Where are those rock stars?
2) This guy. I could rant for way more than 10 minutes about this. Since the average american doesn't even understand what science is (as evidenced by #1 above), how about we just leave the peer-review process to the actual scientists. NSF is really respected and has one of the most rigorous review processes around. Actual scientists regard it as some of the hardest funding to get. Ugh, just Ugh America.
Times up for now, but man I really had some stuff to say about those science cheerleaders too...
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Go Vote
This morning, I was thinking about what I should post today. I annually remind you to vote, and list lots of reasons why you should. Those reasons haven't changed and I still believe in them. If you need some motivation read the archives, or better yet, just GO VOTE.
I had decided to write just that small snippet above. My yearly public service message, but this morning I took my own advice and went to vote, and it seems I have yet another polling place funny to tell you. I guess this is one benefit of moving around, a normally mundane task, like voting, can be new and exciting all the time!
We did the motor voter thing when we got our new licensees, so I knew I was registered. I had actually been quite impressed with the speed and efficiency with which our voter registration cards came in the mail. The location where you vote is printed on there, nice and clear, "you vote at: Local High School" is what is says. We live a few blocks from there and drive by it every day, so I knew exactly where to go. Yesterday I had also received several flyers from various candidates with YOUR VOTING LOCATION IS: LOCAL HIGH SCHOOL printed in bold letters on them, so I was feeling pretty confident about my ability to carry out the basic task of voting, which I've been doing for nearly 15 years.
This morning at 8:09 I showed up at my appointed voting location, pulled into the parking lot, right under the sign that say "Local High School", parked my car in a very sparsely populated lot and started to get a little nervous, it was awfully quiet. Hub and I got out and walked up the steps under the big granite engraved letters proclaiming "Local High School". We marched on up to the front doors: Which were locked.
Yes. Locked. Not a soul in sight. No sign of voting or people or anything. A small yellow sign on the street corner had said "vote here", so I was pretty sure that we were in the right place, but yet, the doors were locked.
We were in the middle of deciding to drive around back (in the manner of a married couple, early in the morning, slightly annoyed about this situation and without enough caffeine might do), when another women popped up behind us and said, "Are those doors locked. There is a door back there propped open with a chair maybe we go there."
So we did.
And we found, an empty gym.
We pressed on.
We found basketball tryouts.
Thankfully, the coach (?) was kind enough to show us the way. At this point we parted ways with the other voter, we opted to return to our car and drive around the building, while she pressed on through the hallways of our (very nice) local high school.
In the end, we all voted (on those new electronic machines) and no harm was done. But thinking about it made me really upset. What if someone else comes to vote and doesn't find their way back there? Access to the polls is the only way the process works. I did my best to do my civic duty and inform the polling people of what had happened and encourage them to fix up some signage for the rest of the day. But by that time I was pretty agitated and just wanted to vote, so I'm not sure I got my point across. I don't know what will happen and I'll likely write a letter to the county voting commission to let them know they can do better. I wasn't able to find an email address for them, or I would be doing that instead of writing this.
I don't think that this was intentional. It was merely a case of election officials assuming that everyone knew there was a back entrance to the high school. I guess it's an honest mistake, but still frustrating. I can only hope that everyone finds there way back there and doesn't just give up and go home.
So go vote, maybe you'll learn something new. Like your local high school mascot is the blue devils (emblazoned on the gym floor), or that you have a really nice high school. Or that the voting gatekeeper guy lives down the street...if you can get over the fact that it is a little weird that he asked what house I live in. I'm slightly suspicious that he wouldn't have let me in if I said a certain one that has certain political signs in front of it, but maybe I was just jumpy after the locked door thing.... Hub ensures me that he was just a nice old gentleman practicing good southern manners....
I had decided to write just that small snippet above. My yearly public service message, but this morning I took my own advice and went to vote, and it seems I have yet another polling place funny to tell you. I guess this is one benefit of moving around, a normally mundane task, like voting, can be new and exciting all the time!
We did the motor voter thing when we got our new licensees, so I knew I was registered. I had actually been quite impressed with the speed and efficiency with which our voter registration cards came in the mail. The location where you vote is printed on there, nice and clear, "you vote at: Local High School" is what is says. We live a few blocks from there and drive by it every day, so I knew exactly where to go. Yesterday I had also received several flyers from various candidates with YOUR VOTING LOCATION IS: LOCAL HIGH SCHOOL printed in bold letters on them, so I was feeling pretty confident about my ability to carry out the basic task of voting, which I've been doing for nearly 15 years.
This morning at 8:09 I showed up at my appointed voting location, pulled into the parking lot, right under the sign that say "Local High School", parked my car in a very sparsely populated lot and started to get a little nervous, it was awfully quiet. Hub and I got out and walked up the steps under the big granite engraved letters proclaiming "Local High School". We marched on up to the front doors: Which were locked.
Yes. Locked. Not a soul in sight. No sign of voting or people or anything. A small yellow sign on the street corner had said "vote here", so I was pretty sure that we were in the right place, but yet, the doors were locked.
We were in the middle of deciding to drive around back (in the manner of a married couple, early in the morning, slightly annoyed about this situation and without enough caffeine might do), when another women popped up behind us and said, "Are those doors locked. There is a door back there propped open with a chair maybe we go there."
So we did.
And we found, an empty gym.
We pressed on.
We found basketball tryouts.
Thankfully, the coach (?) was kind enough to show us the way. At this point we parted ways with the other voter, we opted to return to our car and drive around the building, while she pressed on through the hallways of our (very nice) local high school.
In the end, we all voted (on those new electronic machines) and no harm was done. But thinking about it made me really upset. What if someone else comes to vote and doesn't find their way back there? Access to the polls is the only way the process works. I did my best to do my civic duty and inform the polling people of what had happened and encourage them to fix up some signage for the rest of the day. But by that time I was pretty agitated and just wanted to vote, so I'm not sure I got my point across. I don't know what will happen and I'll likely write a letter to the county voting commission to let them know they can do better. I wasn't able to find an email address for them, or I would be doing that instead of writing this.
I don't think that this was intentional. It was merely a case of election officials assuming that everyone knew there was a back entrance to the high school. I guess it's an honest mistake, but still frustrating. I can only hope that everyone finds there way back there and doesn't just give up and go home.
So go vote, maybe you'll learn something new. Like your local high school mascot is the blue devils (emblazoned on the gym floor), or that you have a really nice high school. Or that the voting gatekeeper guy lives down the street...if you can get over the fact that it is a little weird that he asked what house I live in. I'm slightly suspicious that he wouldn't have let me in if I said a certain one that has certain political signs in front of it, but maybe I was just jumpy after the locked door thing.... Hub ensures me that he was just a nice old gentleman practicing good southern manners....
Saturday, February 7, 2009
I spoke too soon...
Just when I was seduced back into my optimism, the new culture strikes back, and I have the crooked hair to prove it.
One of the hard things about moving to a place is finding the new stuff. New doctors (ugh, we aren't even going to talk about that), new shopping places, new bank, new everything, including the dreaded hair dresser. I've had an ongoing battle with my hair and some struggles with maintaining a consistent hairdresser even back home, and some really bad haircuts as a result, so I had been a little gun shy about this particular process, but hair grows and needs to be cut.
The first try was really bad. When you have an entire conversation with the guy about how you have really straight thin hair and need products to add more volume and then he takes out a flattening iron...bad only begins to describe it. I finally got around to making another appointment before the holidays, and despite some confusion and cancellations, a really nice women cut my hair really well. She took time and care and it was very nice and I was very happy with it. So much so, I made a second appointment in 8 weeks time before I left (something I never do.) The management of this particular salon was a mess, but I figured the good haircut was worth the hassle. That was 8 weeks ago. Yesterday I realized that I knew my appointment was today, but I didn't know what time, it took 2 phone calls to the salon to figure it out, but again, I knew my haircut would be ok so I went with it. Today, after a lovely morning of exploring the city a little, Hub dropped me off at 1pm (the appointed time) and was going to pick me up an hour later, so we could continue our day together with a little antiquing.
My hairdresser was running a bit behind because someone had "called in". At 1:30 I sent a text to hub to say take his time, I hadn't gone in yet. At 1:40 she started to wash my hair, and put in some kind of free conditioning treatment, then left me under the heat lamp for it to cure (?). At 2 she told me to get out from under the lamp and sit by the sink, she'd be "right with me". ~10 minutes (I gave up on paying attention at this point) later she came and rinsed me and brought be out front. Where I sat for another 15 or 20 minutes while she finished up flat-ironing another patron who had shown up sometime during this process. She started combing my hair when hubby showed up at 2:30 and assured him it would be quick, just a trim and reshape, "15 minutes or so". At 3:02 I finally got into the car. Agitated as could be.
I'm not a girly girl, and while I enjoy a good pampering now and then, 2 hours for a trim is WAY beyond my comfort zone. I read an entire In-Style magazine, cover to cover, admittedly not alot of actual reading in such a publication, but still. We have just reached the point were we can start to expect and plan for the phenomenon that we are calling "southern time", everything moves much slower here than it does back home, but this was well outside of the parameters.
And, the haircut, the one that I was willing to put up with a little BS for becuase I was going to be happy with? Terrible. So bad, that I for the first time in my life, went back to have it fixed. Somewhere in between her ordering lunch, discussing color options with the next client and searching for her round brush, the entire left side of my head was left uncut. Leaving it a full inch longer than the right side. And the bangs that had reached that really annoying place where they hit you right in your eye: yup, still right in the eye. After about 20 minutes, hub convinced me to go back, which I hate doing, and get it fixed. Which she kindly did and we left at 4:00. The three hour ordeal was awful and we never did get to go antiquing.
And, there is still a chunk of hair uncut, which Hub will take the sisscors too for me in the morning.
That'll teach me to get too optimisitic.
One of the hard things about moving to a place is finding the new stuff. New doctors (ugh, we aren't even going to talk about that), new shopping places, new bank, new everything, including the dreaded hair dresser. I've had an ongoing battle with my hair and some struggles with maintaining a consistent hairdresser even back home, and some really bad haircuts as a result, so I had been a little gun shy about this particular process, but hair grows and needs to be cut.
The first try was really bad. When you have an entire conversation with the guy about how you have really straight thin hair and need products to add more volume and then he takes out a flattening iron...bad only begins to describe it. I finally got around to making another appointment before the holidays, and despite some confusion and cancellations, a really nice women cut my hair really well. She took time and care and it was very nice and I was very happy with it. So much so, I made a second appointment in 8 weeks time before I left (something I never do.) The management of this particular salon was a mess, but I figured the good haircut was worth the hassle. That was 8 weeks ago. Yesterday I realized that I knew my appointment was today, but I didn't know what time, it took 2 phone calls to the salon to figure it out, but again, I knew my haircut would be ok so I went with it. Today, after a lovely morning of exploring the city a little, Hub dropped me off at 1pm (the appointed time) and was going to pick me up an hour later, so we could continue our day together with a little antiquing.
My hairdresser was running a bit behind because someone had "called in". At 1:30 I sent a text to hub to say take his time, I hadn't gone in yet. At 1:40 she started to wash my hair, and put in some kind of free conditioning treatment, then left me under the heat lamp for it to cure (?). At 2 she told me to get out from under the lamp and sit by the sink, she'd be "right with me". ~10 minutes (I gave up on paying attention at this point) later she came and rinsed me and brought be out front. Where I sat for another 15 or 20 minutes while she finished up flat-ironing another patron who had shown up sometime during this process. She started combing my hair when hubby showed up at 2:30 and assured him it would be quick, just a trim and reshape, "15 minutes or so". At 3:02 I finally got into the car. Agitated as could be.
I'm not a girly girl, and while I enjoy a good pampering now and then, 2 hours for a trim is WAY beyond my comfort zone. I read an entire In-Style magazine, cover to cover, admittedly not alot of actual reading in such a publication, but still. We have just reached the point were we can start to expect and plan for the phenomenon that we are calling "southern time", everything moves much slower here than it does back home, but this was well outside of the parameters.
And, the haircut, the one that I was willing to put up with a little BS for becuase I was going to be happy with? Terrible. So bad, that I for the first time in my life, went back to have it fixed. Somewhere in between her ordering lunch, discussing color options with the next client and searching for her round brush, the entire left side of my head was left uncut. Leaving it a full inch longer than the right side. And the bangs that had reached that really annoying place where they hit you right in your eye: yup, still right in the eye. After about 20 minutes, hub convinced me to go back, which I hate doing, and get it fixed. Which she kindly did and we left at 4:00. The three hour ordeal was awful and we never did get to go antiquing.
And, there is still a chunk of hair uncut, which Hub will take the sisscors too for me in the morning.
That'll teach me to get too optimisitic.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Choosing a School: Tips for New Faculty. The snarky edition
I hate it here. I hate it here. I hate it here. Why can't I have magical shoes to click my heels and go home. These suede boots I've got on are hot, but I'd take magic over hot any day.
There now it's out of my system. I don't hate it here. The newness just makes every stupid inconvenience boil my blood just faster than necessary. I thought that I was at a football school. It's January, we don't play Football in January, bowl season is over, campus is safe again. I should be able to be at my office any time without fear of the traffic-sports clusterf*@&. Buzz. WRONG! Having stayed late at the office today to prep for class tomorrow (I'm finding new an unique challenges associated with teaching to the much smaller class size at my much larger U-no the irony is not lost on me), I was shocked to be stuck in campus traffic at 9:00 pm. Which is when it dawned on me that we are also a basketball school. Ugh. Haveing spent the majority of my academic breeding at the Mecca of College Basketball, I should know better than to stay late on campus on a bball game night. I adeptly scheduled around these events for years. Now that I know that this situation exisits, I can adapt, but for the love of god why didn't anyone warn me????
In light of this new development (and a few others of recent weeks) I present my top three tips for choosing a tenure track faculty position...should you of course find yourself luckier than I and with an actual choice...unlikely in this current economic time, I know, but I'm sure you lucky ones are out there, and I'm equally sure that you are reading my little blog. ;)
1) The two-body situation. (I know I promised more on this topic and really it's coming). Negotitate it up front. Ask for a dual career office, if they hedge, don't have one, or try to brush you off, get uppity.
2) Start-up funds. Make sure that a) they aren't in any way tied to the stock market in some hinky incomprehensible funding sort of way and b) that they won't be the first thing attacked in budget cuts leaving you with plans you may not be able to follow through on.
3) Sports. Ask the real questions. How will the sports teams impact my chances of tenure? How often will I be unable to get to or from campus in a reasonable time frame because of sporting events. How many home games are there? Should I plan my teaching around them in order to get the best possible ratings (e.g. no exams the week before or after homecoming, opening game, senior night, etc.) From my own personal experience I would shy away from any University that has won or come very close to a National Championship in the last 5 years and those that are > 1 hour away from any other professional sporting teams, making the U the defacto team spirit for all of the surrounding population.
I wonder if there is a correlation between home games and tenure rates? Maybe I should do a study. Do you think I could get grant money for that? If I could my chances of tenure would really go up, but then that would skew the results. Two complicated. I'll just settle with the N=1 sample I have now. Yes, tenure is impacted by sports. Of course, with such a small sample size, it wouldn't hold up to peer-review...but hey it's my blog, I don't have go through peer review. I save that hell for my real life. :)
There now it's out of my system. I don't hate it here. The newness just makes every stupid inconvenience boil my blood just faster than necessary. I thought that I was at a football school. It's January, we don't play Football in January, bowl season is over, campus is safe again. I should be able to be at my office any time without fear of the traffic-sports clusterf*@&. Buzz. WRONG! Having stayed late at the office today to prep for class tomorrow (I'm finding new an unique challenges associated with teaching to the much smaller class size at my much larger U-no the irony is not lost on me), I was shocked to be stuck in campus traffic at 9:00 pm. Which is when it dawned on me that we are also a basketball school. Ugh. Haveing spent the majority of my academic breeding at the Mecca of College Basketball, I should know better than to stay late on campus on a bball game night. I adeptly scheduled around these events for years. Now that I know that this situation exisits, I can adapt, but for the love of god why didn't anyone warn me????
In light of this new development (and a few others of recent weeks) I present my top three tips for choosing a tenure track faculty position...should you of course find yourself luckier than I and with an actual choice...unlikely in this current economic time, I know, but I'm sure you lucky ones are out there, and I'm equally sure that you are reading my little blog. ;)
1) The two-body situation. (I know I promised more on this topic and really it's coming). Negotitate it up front. Ask for a dual career office, if they hedge, don't have one, or try to brush you off, get uppity.
2) Start-up funds. Make sure that a) they aren't in any way tied to the stock market in some hinky incomprehensible funding sort of way and b) that they won't be the first thing attacked in budget cuts leaving you with plans you may not be able to follow through on.
3) Sports. Ask the real questions. How will the sports teams impact my chances of tenure? How often will I be unable to get to or from campus in a reasonable time frame because of sporting events. How many home games are there? Should I plan my teaching around them in order to get the best possible ratings (e.g. no exams the week before or after homecoming, opening game, senior night, etc.) From my own personal experience I would shy away from any University that has won or come very close to a National Championship in the last 5 years and those that are > 1 hour away from any other professional sporting teams, making the U the defacto team spirit for all of the surrounding population.
I wonder if there is a correlation between home games and tenure rates? Maybe I should do a study. Do you think I could get grant money for that? If I could my chances of tenure would really go up, but then that would skew the results. Two complicated. I'll just settle with the N=1 sample I have now. Yes, tenure is impacted by sports. Of course, with such a small sample size, it wouldn't hold up to peer-review...but hey it's my blog, I don't have go through peer review. I save that hell for my real life. :)
Sunday, October 12, 2008
A punishable offense
One of the random things I'm finding difficult about my new(ish) professor status and my new climate is my attire. When you are 5'2", and the youngest member of your faculty by almost a decade, dressing age appropriate, professional and comfortable all at once can be a challenge. I have been mistaken for a new student at least half a dozen times since I've been here, and been complimented on my attire just as many other times. I'm at about a 50% success rate if you ask me. I think of this as one of those little things that women deal with and men don't. On it's own, it's not a really big deal, but alot of those little things add up to a pile more of stress that a woman TT prof deals with and a man doesn't.
Anyways, given the unknown appropriateness factor, coupled with a body type that is not the one most clothing companies design for an a very limited budget, and it's a struggle. Don't get me wrong, I like to shop, so it hasn't been too much of a burden, just something extra on my plate.
I found myself in need of some new shoes. Brown flats that could work with skirts and pants, and weren't too tall to make my pants look like the wrong length, but weren't too flat to make them drag on the floor. That also were comfortable enough to get around campus without falling on my face. I searched for awhile and finally settled on a pair I liked. I ordered them, they came and I'm quite happy with them.
Well, on Thursday, I wore them to work for the first time. Somewhere between the office and the vending machine I apparently stepped in gum! A really gooey nasty wad of gum. That in and of itself would usually be bad enough. I, however, was so engrossed in my world, that I did not know that this gum was on my shoe, and settled in on my nice chair, to read a journal article...with the gummed shoe tucked nicely under my butt. Sitting like this is an awful habit I just can't seem to break. I'm 30, I know better, but I do it anyways. I figure it's less offensive than some bad habits (like the improper dispoal of gum), so whatever.
So here we are, gum shoe and butt of my favorite pair of pants all merged on the chair for the 20 minutes it takes for me to read the article. I'm glad no one was around to see what happened when I tried to get up and all of the above components were rather stuck together. Chair is ruined, pants are probably ruined, and my loving husband spent some considerable time saving the shoes so they survived.
The next politician to support a ban on gum like the one in Singapore has my full support!
Anyways, given the unknown appropriateness factor, coupled with a body type that is not the one most clothing companies design for an a very limited budget, and it's a struggle. Don't get me wrong, I like to shop, so it hasn't been too much of a burden, just something extra on my plate.
I found myself in need of some new shoes. Brown flats that could work with skirts and pants, and weren't too tall to make my pants look like the wrong length, but weren't too flat to make them drag on the floor. That also were comfortable enough to get around campus without falling on my face. I searched for awhile and finally settled on a pair I liked. I ordered them, they came and I'm quite happy with them.
Well, on Thursday, I wore them to work for the first time. Somewhere between the office and the vending machine I apparently stepped in gum! A really gooey nasty wad of gum. That in and of itself would usually be bad enough. I, however, was so engrossed in my world, that I did not know that this gum was on my shoe, and settled in on my nice chair, to read a journal article...with the gummed shoe tucked nicely under my butt. Sitting like this is an awful habit I just can't seem to break. I'm 30, I know better, but I do it anyways. I figure it's less offensive than some bad habits (like the improper dispoal of gum), so whatever.
So here we are, gum shoe and butt of my favorite pair of pants all merged on the chair for the 20 minutes it takes for me to read the article. I'm glad no one was around to see what happened when I tried to get up and all of the above components were rather stuck together. Chair is ruined, pants are probably ruined, and my loving husband spent some considerable time saving the shoes so they survived.
The next politician to support a ban on gum like the one in Singapore has my full support!
Friday, February 29, 2008
S is for Security
Well, here I am, looking like a yuppy in the fancy coffee shop, drinking tea and typing away on my macbook, in the Cedar Rapids Airport. Yup, Cedar Rapids, Iowa. With snow everywhere, I'm very glad to be headed toward slightly warmer clims. Texas here I come baby.
This leg of the trip was pretty successful. We got the equipmentSe up and running, took it all apart, put it all back together, took it apart and packed it up. Then loaded it in the van that left home the same time I did, but arrived two days later. Just in time to watch the snow start to come down again, which very politely stopped in time for my drive to airport today. Since I ran out of stuff to do, I'm here and checked in 3.5 hours before my flight. Thank goodness the Eastern Iowa airport is much more forward thinking than say, Chicago O'Hare and provides free WiFi, so I can blog for you today.
Speaking of what else the airport can provide. How about some visual interest:
That is a fancy old car for sale right here in the airport lounge. It's a sweet ride, and given the amount of snow on the ground here I'm posting it so dear hubby can see getting his own old beauty is possible, even in the bad weather. :)
So, while the goal of the trip was accomplished and overall it was a success, I did have a bit of logistical issues getting here, which I alluded to last time. The short story is my orignal flight was canceled so I was last minute rebooked on another airline, evoking, what I like to refer to as the evil S on my boarding pass. It's actually a set of four capitol letter S's in a row along the bottom, which makes the security agents get out their red pens, and sends you to the special line, with full bag search, triple ID check, and full body pat down. This is the first time I got the S for a legitimate reason (last minute booking), but I'm numbering over a dozen of the Ss in my time. It's not really evil, just inconvenient and raises the heart rate just a tad. As much as I follow the rules there is always a little voice that says what if you left your pocket knife in the bottom of your bag, being scrutinized that closely is never fun. It is a post 9/11 security measure, some Ss are assigned randomly, some are assigned on itineraries that have been flagged and some are just because you might be on a list. For a period of time I think I was on that list, I got the S 2 out of every 3 times I flew, then sometime in the last year and half, the Ss stopped, I've taken 4 or 5 trips without the intense scrutiny. (I think the list was active for 5 years and hence after all those inspections the list expired. I personally don't think there was any logic in the system, just bad luck on my part, or good luck depending on how you view the situation.)
Why am I telling you all of this? Well, because I was reminded of the whole security issue in a roundabout way this morning. I woke up at the hotel this AM to the people in the room screaming. At each other. Loudly. The couple was fighting. Loudly. It was scary. The girl was crying and shreiking, the man was yelling. Loudly. It started off simple enough, a heated discussion in another language. At first, I thought maybe it was the TV next door, I had heard the TV from across the hall the other night, so it was a plausible explanation. Then I realized that there were no foreign language channels on the hotel's cable system. The argument got louder, and more heated. There was more yelling and a loud bang. By this time a little over 20 minutes had passed. So I called my husband, who convinced me that yes I should call the front desk. Who then called the police. In less than 5 minutes, the police where knocking loudly on the door, waking up anyone in the vicinity that had not been awoken by the initial argument. They separated the couple and another 15 minutes of interviewing ensued. (The walls in this hotel were particularly thin, and much of the interviewing occured just outside my door, so I heard almost all of the details).
Then, what I had been dreading from the start happened. Someone was knocking on my door. It was very kind police officer who nicely asked if he could come in an talk with me. Hello heart rate. Here I was, with nothing to fear, having tried to do what I believed to be the right thing, and suddenly I could feel my whole body go into fear mode. I was suddenly like a awkward teenager who didn't know how to talk to anyone. My voice was barely above a whisper as I explained what I heard, why I had called, apologized for calling, etc. Why is that? I am a pretty self assured individual, a law abiding citizen with absolutely nothing to hide. But there it is, a fear of authority. I felt unbelievably vulnerable. And it can't just be because I was still in my pajamas, because it's the same feeling I have every time I'm marked with the evil S, and I never go to the airport in my PJs. Anyone have any good theories on why I apparently have a fear of authority? Anyone else have it? Police and security agents are there to protect us, shouldn't that envoke feelings of safety and calmness, not clammy plams and hot flashes? Anyways, just some random musings I thought I would share. I think we have maybe done something wrong in our society if someone like me has such a stressful reaction in situations that should be just fine.
Anyways, I've rambled long enough, it's time to face the security line. The kind cop did explain that they had been arguing, their stories aligned, there was no evidence of physical violence and that probably something just fell against the wall. He thanked me for calling. Left my room and told the man that the fighting needed to stop because it was disturbing other hotel guests, etc. My breathing returned to normal. Then my alarm clock rang. It was quite a way to start the day!
This leg of the trip was pretty successful. We got the equipmentSe up and running, took it all apart, put it all back together, took it apart and packed it up. Then loaded it in the van that left home the same time I did, but arrived two days later. Just in time to watch the snow start to come down again, which very politely stopped in time for my drive to airport today. Since I ran out of stuff to do, I'm here and checked in 3.5 hours before my flight. Thank goodness the Eastern Iowa airport is much more forward thinking than say, Chicago O'Hare and provides free WiFi, so I can blog for you today.
Speaking of what else the airport can provide. How about some visual interest:
That is a fancy old car for sale right here in the airport lounge. It's a sweet ride, and given the amount of snow on the ground here I'm posting it so dear hubby can see getting his own old beauty is possible, even in the bad weather. :)
So, while the goal of the trip was accomplished and overall it was a success, I did have a bit of logistical issues getting here, which I alluded to last time. The short story is my orignal flight was canceled so I was last minute rebooked on another airline, evoking, what I like to refer to as the evil S on my boarding pass. It's actually a set of four capitol letter S's in a row along the bottom, which makes the security agents get out their red pens, and sends you to the special line, with full bag search, triple ID check, and full body pat down. This is the first time I got the S for a legitimate reason (last minute booking), but I'm numbering over a dozen of the Ss in my time. It's not really evil, just inconvenient and raises the heart rate just a tad. As much as I follow the rules there is always a little voice that says what if you left your pocket knife in the bottom of your bag, being scrutinized that closely is never fun. It is a post 9/11 security measure, some Ss are assigned randomly, some are assigned on itineraries that have been flagged and some are just because you might be on a list. For a period of time I think I was on that list, I got the S 2 out of every 3 times I flew, then sometime in the last year and half, the Ss stopped, I've taken 4 or 5 trips without the intense scrutiny. (I think the list was active for 5 years and hence after all those inspections the list expired. I personally don't think there was any logic in the system, just bad luck on my part, or good luck depending on how you view the situation.)
Why am I telling you all of this? Well, because I was reminded of the whole security issue in a roundabout way this morning. I woke up at the hotel this AM to the people in the room screaming. At each other. Loudly. The couple was fighting. Loudly. It was scary. The girl was crying and shreiking, the man was yelling. Loudly. It started off simple enough, a heated discussion in another language. At first, I thought maybe it was the TV next door, I had heard the TV from across the hall the other night, so it was a plausible explanation. Then I realized that there were no foreign language channels on the hotel's cable system. The argument got louder, and more heated. There was more yelling and a loud bang. By this time a little over 20 minutes had passed. So I called my husband, who convinced me that yes I should call the front desk. Who then called the police. In less than 5 minutes, the police where knocking loudly on the door, waking up anyone in the vicinity that had not been awoken by the initial argument. They separated the couple and another 15 minutes of interviewing ensued. (The walls in this hotel were particularly thin, and much of the interviewing occured just outside my door, so I heard almost all of the details).
Then, what I had been dreading from the start happened. Someone was knocking on my door. It was very kind police officer who nicely asked if he could come in an talk with me. Hello heart rate. Here I was, with nothing to fear, having tried to do what I believed to be the right thing, and suddenly I could feel my whole body go into fear mode. I was suddenly like a awkward teenager who didn't know how to talk to anyone. My voice was barely above a whisper as I explained what I heard, why I had called, apologized for calling, etc. Why is that? I am a pretty self assured individual, a law abiding citizen with absolutely nothing to hide. But there it is, a fear of authority. I felt unbelievably vulnerable. And it can't just be because I was still in my pajamas, because it's the same feeling I have every time I'm marked with the evil S, and I never go to the airport in my PJs. Anyone have any good theories on why I apparently have a fear of authority? Anyone else have it? Police and security agents are there to protect us, shouldn't that envoke feelings of safety and calmness, not clammy plams and hot flashes? Anyways, just some random musings I thought I would share. I think we have maybe done something wrong in our society if someone like me has such a stressful reaction in situations that should be just fine.
Anyways, I've rambled long enough, it's time to face the security line. The kind cop did explain that they had been arguing, their stories aligned, there was no evidence of physical violence and that probably something just fell against the wall. He thanked me for calling. Left my room and told the man that the fighting needed to stop because it was disturbing other hotel guests, etc. My breathing returned to normal. Then my alarm clock rang. It was quite a way to start the day!
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
learning something new
Today I learned that my husband has an alarmingly expansive vocabulary, and donated 2000+ grains of rice. Go have fun.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
It's a block party!
I know, I have been AWAL for a little while. I have not be delingintly posting progress on my November goals like some people. I'm going to blame it on the interview. It sucked up 3 days last week, plus the time to prepare and then the time to recover. I had planned to catch up on my internet life in the evenings while I was there. In my past experience interviews of this nature are an exhausting experience and planning to do brain work in the evenings is a bad bad bad idea. It is, however, the perfect time to sit in front of a TV and catch up on blogging, blog reading and emails to all the friends that you want to write real emails to (not the "hey how are you I'm great life's busy hope to see you soon" kind). A grand master plan foiled by staying in a 1960's era home with GASP! NO INTERNET!
The interview:
I think it went well. My talk seemed to be well received and the people were nice. I don't think that it's the job for me though. I'm not ready to activate plan B quite yet. The house was the highlight. This was the first time I have seen teal and avocado paisley print wallpaper complete with matching curtains. The place was a hoot.
The paper:
I am half way through the data analysis. This is a bit behind where I wanted to be. I have been slowed by a couple of factors. First, the interview. Second, %#&@ing Windows. I had a very bad day yesterday. It seems that an 80 gig hard-drive shouldn't really ever hold 80 gigs unless they are stored under multiple windows profiles or some other BS like that. I came into the office yesterday morning all prepared to be in an environment where I could get a lot of work done. Total paper focus. Turns out I had a corrupt windows profile, which took ~5 hours for the IT guy to kindof fix. None of the data is lost, it's just in the wrong place. I'm an anal backup person, so I'm not worried about anything that might be lost. It's just that I really need the damn computer to function. Multiple phone calls and 2 hours or so with the IT guy did not jive well with total paper focus, so very little got done.
Random rant:
Am I getting old, or are those IT guys getting young? I mean seriously, when this kid, who looked like he was about 12 and had some kind of metal bar sticking out through his eyebrow, started telling me that I shouldn't have 30 gigs of data stored on this computer because blah blah blah, I almost blew a gasket. Where exactly would you like me to store the data? This is the computer it's analyzed on, therefore it needs to be on this computer, would you like to come rewrite the 70,000 or so lines of Pascal code that collects this data to see if you can compress it in some way the 4 or 5 other computer experts that wrote the code were somehow unable to figure out. Don't tell me that my desktop shouldn't have any files on it, "it's just like a messy desk you can't get any work done". Here's a hint, you don't like messy, comb your hair! Man it's a good thing I keep that internal monologue internal I might have made this kid cry. I'm getting old. No doubt about it.
The knitting:
The sweater is done and blocking. I pretty much had the exact same experience as the yarn harlot last night. Lot's of seaming, but I was too lazy to rip back the inch I should have on the arms so it's just going to stay that way. I even watched last weeks bionic women on the web, it's weird to read an almost exact count of your own evening written by a famous person. (I didn't have wine and had some dinner with friends)
The fit is good, and the moving mud closure Mom bought for me at Rhinebeck is the perfect color. I'll try to post pictures from Thanksgiving so you can get the full effect. This sweater is a brilliant pattern to knit. Kate Gilbert is truly genius. Many have said this before so I won't expound further than that. The yarn is Primo by Filatura Di Crosa. I bought it at Webs summer sale in June. I have 6 balls leftover, I don't know what to do with it. It's nice to work with, except it's one of those yarns that the ends don't really stay under after they are woven in. It comes in small balls so there are alot of ends. I LOVE the color. This is my best "for me" knit yet.
Since I had to drag the blocking board out, I finally got around to blocking the pea pod sweater that I knit over the summer as well. It's a Kate Gilbert Block party right here in my living room:
The interview:
I think it went well. My talk seemed to be well received and the people were nice. I don't think that it's the job for me though. I'm not ready to activate plan B quite yet. The house was the highlight. This was the first time I have seen teal and avocado paisley print wallpaper complete with matching curtains. The place was a hoot.
The paper:
I am half way through the data analysis. This is a bit behind where I wanted to be. I have been slowed by a couple of factors. First, the interview. Second, %#&@ing Windows. I had a very bad day yesterday. It seems that an 80 gig hard-drive shouldn't really ever hold 80 gigs unless they are stored under multiple windows profiles or some other BS like that. I came into the office yesterday morning all prepared to be in an environment where I could get a lot of work done. Total paper focus. Turns out I had a corrupt windows profile, which took ~5 hours for the IT guy to kindof fix. None of the data is lost, it's just in the wrong place. I'm an anal backup person, so I'm not worried about anything that might be lost. It's just that I really need the damn computer to function. Multiple phone calls and 2 hours or so with the IT guy did not jive well with total paper focus, so very little got done.
Random rant:
Am I getting old, or are those IT guys getting young? I mean seriously, when this kid, who looked like he was about 12 and had some kind of metal bar sticking out through his eyebrow, started telling me that I shouldn't have 30 gigs of data stored on this computer because blah blah blah, I almost blew a gasket. Where exactly would you like me to store the data? This is the computer it's analyzed on, therefore it needs to be on this computer, would you like to come rewrite the 70,000 or so lines of Pascal code that collects this data to see if you can compress it in some way the 4 or 5 other computer experts that wrote the code were somehow unable to figure out. Don't tell me that my desktop shouldn't have any files on it, "it's just like a messy desk you can't get any work done". Here's a hint, you don't like messy, comb your hair! Man it's a good thing I keep that internal monologue internal I might have made this kid cry. I'm getting old. No doubt about it.
The knitting:
The sweater is done and blocking. I pretty much had the exact same experience as the yarn harlot last night. Lot's of seaming, but I was too lazy to rip back the inch I should have on the arms so it's just going to stay that way. I even watched last weeks bionic women on the web, it's weird to read an almost exact count of your own evening written by a famous person. (I didn't have wine and had some dinner with friends)
The fit is good, and the moving mud closure Mom bought for me at Rhinebeck is the perfect color. I'll try to post pictures from Thanksgiving so you can get the full effect. This sweater is a brilliant pattern to knit. Kate Gilbert is truly genius. Many have said this before so I won't expound further than that. The yarn is Primo by Filatura Di Crosa. I bought it at Webs summer sale in June. I have 6 balls leftover, I don't know what to do with it. It's nice to work with, except it's one of those yarns that the ends don't really stay under after they are woven in. It comes in small balls so there are alot of ends. I LOVE the color. This is my best "for me" knit yet.
Since I had to drag the blocking board out, I finally got around to blocking the pea pod sweater that I knit over the summer as well. It's a Kate Gilbert Block party right here in my living room:
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
A sea of grey
I must be the only nearly 29 year old in the world that wishes I was at least 5 or 6 years older.
I mean shouldn't I be lamenting the loss of my 20's, not wishing them away?
This meeting I'm at was supposed to be for young faculty, early career scientists, particularly post-docs and graduate students. It's about getting funding from NSF, the process, available programs, etc. Since NSF funding seems to be the second half of your union card into the world of being a full fledged scientist and/or professor, I signed up immediately. I was pretty excited, the post-doc thing is well, I talked about that yesterday, so I won't waste the space here. But the opportunity to be with other people in or about my cohort was pretty exciting. Talking about science and the future directions is always stimulating and refreshing, and I though the energy of "younger" people would make it even better. I new that there would be many of the well respected icons of the field here too, but I thought the focus would be on getting the "new blood" involved. So imagine my surprise and frustration to find myself the only one under, let's conservatively say 37. Now, I'm not complaining or anything, I love to listen and learn, that's part of why I do what I do, but it's very difficult to always feel like your outside in the cold knocking on the door. When I finally did work up the courage to take that damn mic and express and opinion I was blatantly ignored. All those old men looked at me like I was an alien. My comments didn't even make it into the plenary session review, even though others came up to me after and said they were good ideas. So it seems good ideas from the "early career" scientists this workshop was supposed to help embrace aren't good enough. That's not making us feel welcome. Yet you can devote entire sessions to the educational needs we should be meeting to "save the future of the field". The future is right here in the room, how about paying attention!
Sorry that was a bit ranty, but it was hard to sit and listen to that today, and to hear them say things like "I see a lot of grey out there, maybe we don't understand the virtual world that students live in today", and in the welcome, "we really want to get the new scientists involved, this has been an old boys club for a long time and it's time to change that". The keynote speaker for crying out loud. One of the main reasons I came her was to get recharged to feel like there was a future for me in this field. I've been thinking a lot about leaving lately. There are about a billion reasons some revolving around my specific work environment right know, and those I know will change as soon as I find a new job. Those pesky problems aside, it's still a hard road, there are alot of obstacles, that seem to grow exponentially when you are a women, and when you are younger than the average PhD out there (I'm no Dougie Howser or anything, but I am the youngest PhD I know) they seem to grow even more. Midway through day three, I almost walked out, leaving that sea of seemingly brilliant but horrifically ignorant grey behind. I have better things to do than be ignored. But I stayed, mainly because I'm half a country away from home and had nowhere else to go, but partly because my love of science will not die and I still have some silly hope that I will discover something new and meaningful and to do that, you some how have to break into the club. So I'll keep trying. I'm kind of stubborn like that.
At least now I know who to submit the proposals to, how to request use of the sites, and navigate the endless pit of paperwork to get my ideas to that panel of my grey haired "peer" reviewers. Maybe they're more receptive when the future isn't standing in front of them looking so damn young and womenlike and instead is some "anonymous" scientist on a piece of paper. Sometimes I think we live in a mad mad world.
I think this post came out more negative then I meant it to be. But this gig really is hard sometimes. The conference wasn't all bad. I did get through to a couple of the scientists here and I had a very exciting conversation with one of the scientists here, one I respect quite a bit and he was very receptive to my ideas, and offered a lot of help and collaboration and told me I should apply for a very competitive post-doc program and offered to sponsor my application, so that's all good...but another post-doc??? That's a musing for another day.
I mean shouldn't I be lamenting the loss of my 20's, not wishing them away?
This meeting I'm at was supposed to be for young faculty, early career scientists, particularly post-docs and graduate students. It's about getting funding from NSF, the process, available programs, etc. Since NSF funding seems to be the second half of your union card into the world of being a full fledged scientist and/or professor, I signed up immediately. I was pretty excited, the post-doc thing is well, I talked about that yesterday, so I won't waste the space here. But the opportunity to be with other people in or about my cohort was pretty exciting. Talking about science and the future directions is always stimulating and refreshing, and I though the energy of "younger" people would make it even better. I new that there would be many of the well respected icons of the field here too, but I thought the focus would be on getting the "new blood" involved. So imagine my surprise and frustration to find myself the only one under, let's conservatively say 37. Now, I'm not complaining or anything, I love to listen and learn, that's part of why I do what I do, but it's very difficult to always feel like your outside in the cold knocking on the door. When I finally did work up the courage to take that damn mic and express and opinion I was blatantly ignored. All those old men looked at me like I was an alien. My comments didn't even make it into the plenary session review, even though others came up to me after and said they were good ideas. So it seems good ideas from the "early career" scientists this workshop was supposed to help embrace aren't good enough. That's not making us feel welcome. Yet you can devote entire sessions to the educational needs we should be meeting to "save the future of the field". The future is right here in the room, how about paying attention!
Sorry that was a bit ranty, but it was hard to sit and listen to that today, and to hear them say things like "I see a lot of grey out there, maybe we don't understand the virtual world that students live in today", and in the welcome, "we really want to get the new scientists involved, this has been an old boys club for a long time and it's time to change that". The keynote speaker for crying out loud. One of the main reasons I came her was to get recharged to feel like there was a future for me in this field. I've been thinking a lot about leaving lately. There are about a billion reasons some revolving around my specific work environment right know, and those I know will change as soon as I find a new job. Those pesky problems aside, it's still a hard road, there are alot of obstacles, that seem to grow exponentially when you are a women, and when you are younger than the average PhD out there (I'm no Dougie Howser or anything, but I am the youngest PhD I know) they seem to grow even more. Midway through day three, I almost walked out, leaving that sea of seemingly brilliant but horrifically ignorant grey behind. I have better things to do than be ignored. But I stayed, mainly because I'm half a country away from home and had nowhere else to go, but partly because my love of science will not die and I still have some silly hope that I will discover something new and meaningful and to do that, you some how have to break into the club. So I'll keep trying. I'm kind of stubborn like that.
At least now I know who to submit the proposals to, how to request use of the sites, and navigate the endless pit of paperwork to get my ideas to that panel of my grey haired "peer" reviewers. Maybe they're more receptive when the future isn't standing in front of them looking so damn young and womenlike and instead is some "anonymous" scientist on a piece of paper. Sometimes I think we live in a mad mad world.
I think this post came out more negative then I meant it to be. But this gig really is hard sometimes. The conference wasn't all bad. I did get through to a couple of the scientists here and I had a very exciting conversation with one of the scientists here, one I respect quite a bit and he was very receptive to my ideas, and offered a lot of help and collaboration and told me I should apply for a very competitive post-doc program and offered to sponsor my application, so that's all good...but another post-doc??? That's a musing for another day.
Friday, July 6, 2007
A sign
Is it time to leave work when you are still long enough for the automatic lights to shut off?
And come to think of it...who unplugged my fan?
And shut the windows?
hmmm? Weird day.
Anyways, I'm taking the automatic lights as a sign. If you are staring at something long enough for the lights to think you don't exist, it's time to move on. I think it's time to accept the reality that this manuscript will not get submitted before I leave for vacation. I'm still waiting to hear from other people on things, and the staring indicates to me that I really can't do it myself, no matter how hard I try. It's very hard to use data you didn't collect. Or, to use it well that is. I could very easily just plug in some numbers and output some others, but the numbers don't really make sense, and not being there puts me at a disadvantage in the interpretation process. Time to move on I suppose...
And come to think of it...who unplugged my fan?
And shut the windows?
hmmm? Weird day.
Anyways, I'm taking the automatic lights as a sign. If you are staring at something long enough for the lights to think you don't exist, it's time to move on. I think it's time to accept the reality that this manuscript will not get submitted before I leave for vacation. I'm still waiting to hear from other people on things, and the staring indicates to me that I really can't do it myself, no matter how hard I try. It's very hard to use data you didn't collect. Or, to use it well that is. I could very easily just plug in some numbers and output some others, but the numbers don't really make sense, and not being there puts me at a disadvantage in the interpretation process. Time to move on I suppose...
Friday, June 8, 2007
I'm getting all girlie...
I am becoming a feminist.
I've always been a feminist on some level. It was always one of those small self-identity things that was there, just not a big part of me. By the most basic definition of a feminist being one who beleives in equal rights for women, I think all women must be feminists. (I know that this is not true but I'd like to believe it is). So, it's always been there. I once did go see Gloria Steinman give a talk and found her truly inspiring. I didn't change my name when I got married. But I never really considered myself a "FEMINIST". You know what I mean...the ones with the bad raps. The ones who are vocal and almost unladylike about the cause. The ones without bras.
To me, believing in equal rights was enough, fighting for them was too much. I always just figured I'd get through it. That the need for feminism would dye out with time, the world would get more welcoming as older generations moved pass and the bulk of the population had grown up in a more enlightened time. During my years of engineering education, I did realize that I was a minority, but I mostly just ignored it. I encountered a few old school professors that gave me a hard time and I chalked it up to a generational gap, a few classmates from cultures and religions that don't respect women well and just let it slide. I had a rare uppity moment, but mostly just let it fly by and grew a tough skin. I refused to join the women only societies because I believed they were making the problem worse. To me, excluding men was just as bad and bringing the problem to light actually made the problem worse in some ways. I guess I mostly just developed selective hearing and went about my studies. Don't get me wrong, the occasional tear was shed, there was a burden to bear, I didn't enjoy the situation, but it was what it was.
During my master's program it got harder, there were fewer women, and I found the state I was in to be less liberal then the northeast where I had grown up and done my BS. The lack of women was probably a factor in my decision to leave engineering and switch to science. Not a major factor, not THE factor, but it was a consideration. I found my PhD program more welcoming, from a grad student perspective at least. I felt well-respected by my peers and faculty and I was no longer self conscious about being a women. The comfort I felt was probably a small factor in my staying in that same department to be a post-doc.
Now, in the limbo-land of post-doc, I am suddenly acutely aware of my being a women and the different treatment I receive because of it. And, I'm becoming more vocal about it. And more pissed off about it. In the last three years we have hired two new faculty, both male, one of whom has been fairly anti-female. I'm running into some major problems with a collaborator from another country who will tell me I'm wrong, ignore my work, or worse yet do it over. But will praise the same techniques when presented to him by my advisor. I'm finding the prevailing attitude to be that I'm only doing this to bide my time until my husband finishes his degree. I think Am I a Women Scientist states it best in her profile. "if you ever forget that you’re a woman, someone will always be around to remind you."
So why? What is up with the world? Why is this anti-lady attitude making a comeback in young PhDs? Was I right that all the feminism pissed them off too much? Will it get better? Why should I stick it out?
So I'm a feminist. While this self discovery is a good thing. I'm note sure it's a great thing. On some level, I'm becoming paranoid. I've started to attribute almost every action that offends me as an anti-feminine gesture. I'm touchy and uppity and a bit mouthy about it. This is not helpful. This behavior makes it worse for others who follow. But without a little uppitiness can it get better? What's the balance?
The feminist in me is part of the reason for the new blog, without my real identity attached. I think these thoughts are important to share, but I can't share them without fear of repercussions in my non-blog life. The parts that make me whole seem to be socially incompatible. Maybe by writing about them I'll change those social perceptions. I can be a feminist who knits. I can be a wife with a career. I can be a scientist who wears a bra. The rules of decades past need not apply anymore.
I've always been a feminist on some level. It was always one of those small self-identity things that was there, just not a big part of me. By the most basic definition of a feminist being one who beleives in equal rights for women, I think all women must be feminists. (I know that this is not true but I'd like to believe it is). So, it's always been there. I once did go see Gloria Steinman give a talk and found her truly inspiring. I didn't change my name when I got married. But I never really considered myself a "FEMINIST". You know what I mean...the ones with the bad raps. The ones who are vocal and almost unladylike about the cause. The ones without bras.
To me, believing in equal rights was enough, fighting for them was too much. I always just figured I'd get through it. That the need for feminism would dye out with time, the world would get more welcoming as older generations moved pass and the bulk of the population had grown up in a more enlightened time. During my years of engineering education, I did realize that I was a minority, but I mostly just ignored it. I encountered a few old school professors that gave me a hard time and I chalked it up to a generational gap, a few classmates from cultures and religions that don't respect women well and just let it slide. I had a rare uppity moment, but mostly just let it fly by and grew a tough skin. I refused to join the women only societies because I believed they were making the problem worse. To me, excluding men was just as bad and bringing the problem to light actually made the problem worse in some ways. I guess I mostly just developed selective hearing and went about my studies. Don't get me wrong, the occasional tear was shed, there was a burden to bear, I didn't enjoy the situation, but it was what it was.
During my master's program it got harder, there were fewer women, and I found the state I was in to be less liberal then the northeast where I had grown up and done my BS. The lack of women was probably a factor in my decision to leave engineering and switch to science. Not a major factor, not THE factor, but it was a consideration. I found my PhD program more welcoming, from a grad student perspective at least. I felt well-respected by my peers and faculty and I was no longer self conscious about being a women. The comfort I felt was probably a small factor in my staying in that same department to be a post-doc.
Now, in the limbo-land of post-doc, I am suddenly acutely aware of my being a women and the different treatment I receive because of it. And, I'm becoming more vocal about it. And more pissed off about it. In the last three years we have hired two new faculty, both male, one of whom has been fairly anti-female. I'm running into some major problems with a collaborator from another country who will tell me I'm wrong, ignore my work, or worse yet do it over. But will praise the same techniques when presented to him by my advisor. I'm finding the prevailing attitude to be that I'm only doing this to bide my time until my husband finishes his degree. I think Am I a Women Scientist states it best in her profile. "if you ever forget that you’re a woman, someone will always be around to remind you."
So why? What is up with the world? Why is this anti-lady attitude making a comeback in young PhDs? Was I right that all the feminism pissed them off too much? Will it get better? Why should I stick it out?
So I'm a feminist. While this self discovery is a good thing. I'm note sure it's a great thing. On some level, I'm becoming paranoid. I've started to attribute almost every action that offends me as an anti-feminine gesture. I'm touchy and uppity and a bit mouthy about it. This is not helpful. This behavior makes it worse for others who follow. But without a little uppitiness can it get better? What's the balance?
The feminist in me is part of the reason for the new blog, without my real identity attached. I think these thoughts are important to share, but I can't share them without fear of repercussions in my non-blog life. The parts that make me whole seem to be socially incompatible. Maybe by writing about them I'll change those social perceptions. I can be a feminist who knits. I can be a wife with a career. I can be a scientist who wears a bra. The rules of decades past need not apply anymore.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
hmmm...
So after reading this post about this article, I got to thinking. Mostly about my currently unfulfilled dream to find a faculty position. Could the current "flight of faculty" be the cause of my multiple applications being returned with a nicely worded you are fabulous and we'd love to hire you but the other applicants had more experience note in them. (A note for full disclosure, my particular rejection letter from UW-Madison was just that...a straight out you suck kind of rejection...not the we love you but kind)
Given my recent encounter with the age old can't get experience without a job and can't get a job without experience brick wall I started to wonder what was really happening. Are these supposed fleeing faculty fleeing to jobs that would otherwise have gone to young, energetic faculty candidates? And if so, what does the mean for the fate of all the Universities? To me it has implications beyond the shrinking reputation of UW-Madison. I'm assuming that most of these fleeing faculty are tenured and therefore fleeing to other tenured positions. Does this mean that the dwindling number of pre-tenure positions are a direct result of faculty just jumping from University to University and leaving no room for new comers? I sure hope not, because that means we will come to a point were all of these hopping faculty will retire, and if no one new has been let in, then every school that wasn't proactive and just happy to accept faculty from a school with a supposed better reputation will be screwed in the long run, with no faculty to fill up the ranks.
To me the tenure system works because of it's revolving nature. And the advances in science, arts, literature, etc that we make are directly fed by the combination of young professors producing the solid kind of we'll definitely get results and therefore many papers stuff so they can get tenure, and "older" (don't like that what that word implies but can't think of a better one...I personally never met an "old" professor...and let's remember that my major advisor is retired now) professors with secure jobs allowed to pursue the more experimental, risky types of experiments because their whole career isn't riding on the formula of X grants to produce Y papers, where X and Y are arbitrarily assigned by a tenure committee at some upper level of the university who really only cares about Z dollars. I hate to believe it, because everyone wants to think that everything they do is the hottest thing out there, but the truth is the most amazing science, often comes either from a) tenured faculty whose tenure gives them the ultimate freedom to pursue the science they dream of b) people who have given up on the tenure system, do whatever the hell they want, win some big prize/award for their work and are granted automatic tenure or c) those with extraordinary luck. This is not to say those of us still hoping to get a tenure track position and eventually tenure don't produce good, valid, important and ground-breaking science, but in the grand academic scheme we are still children learning to walk on our own.
But if the system stops revolving, doesn't let the young pups in, what will happen? Will it be the death of science? I see more and more young PhD's opting out of the academic lifestyle, mostly because it's becoming next to impossible to find a job, and hopping from post-doc to post-doc being asked to pursue a new topic each time doesn't allow anyone to build up enough work to truly be productive...and then it doesn't really help the paper and grant count that is needed to get into the tenure system. They just get tired and say screw it. I myself have come to the conclusion that the lack of women professors is directly do the the Post-Doc stage of the career coinciding with prime child bearing years, and I could go on about that for a whole other post.
Personally, I think Universities, should stop worrying about who they are losing and start worrying about who they aren't getting the first place.
just some thoughts.
Given my recent encounter with the age old can't get experience without a job and can't get a job without experience brick wall I started to wonder what was really happening. Are these supposed fleeing faculty fleeing to jobs that would otherwise have gone to young, energetic faculty candidates? And if so, what does the mean for the fate of all the Universities? To me it has implications beyond the shrinking reputation of UW-Madison. I'm assuming that most of these fleeing faculty are tenured and therefore fleeing to other tenured positions. Does this mean that the dwindling number of pre-tenure positions are a direct result of faculty just jumping from University to University and leaving no room for new comers? I sure hope not, because that means we will come to a point were all of these hopping faculty will retire, and if no one new has been let in, then every school that wasn't proactive and just happy to accept faculty from a school with a supposed better reputation will be screwed in the long run, with no faculty to fill up the ranks.
To me the tenure system works because of it's revolving nature. And the advances in science, arts, literature, etc that we make are directly fed by the combination of young professors producing the solid kind of we'll definitely get results and therefore many papers stuff so they can get tenure, and "older" (don't like that what that word implies but can't think of a better one...I personally never met an "old" professor...and let's remember that my major advisor is retired now) professors with secure jobs allowed to pursue the more experimental, risky types of experiments because their whole career isn't riding on the formula of X grants to produce Y papers, where X and Y are arbitrarily assigned by a tenure committee at some upper level of the university who really only cares about Z dollars. I hate to believe it, because everyone wants to think that everything they do is the hottest thing out there, but the truth is the most amazing science, often comes either from a) tenured faculty whose tenure gives them the ultimate freedom to pursue the science they dream of b) people who have given up on the tenure system, do whatever the hell they want, win some big prize/award for their work and are granted automatic tenure or c) those with extraordinary luck. This is not to say those of us still hoping to get a tenure track position and eventually tenure don't produce good, valid, important and ground-breaking science, but in the grand academic scheme we are still children learning to walk on our own.
But if the system stops revolving, doesn't let the young pups in, what will happen? Will it be the death of science? I see more and more young PhD's opting out of the academic lifestyle, mostly because it's becoming next to impossible to find a job, and hopping from post-doc to post-doc being asked to pursue a new topic each time doesn't allow anyone to build up enough work to truly be productive...and then it doesn't really help the paper and grant count that is needed to get into the tenure system. They just get tired and say screw it. I myself have come to the conclusion that the lack of women professors is directly do the the Post-Doc stage of the career coinciding with prime child bearing years, and I could go on about that for a whole other post.
Personally, I think Universities, should stop worrying about who they are losing and start worrying about who they aren't getting the first place.
just some thoughts.
Saturday, June 2, 2007
Why I Didn't Buy a Prius
After reading Paul's blog yesterday, I was thinking a lot about what I should post on my new science and craft blog. I decided to go with Sciencey thoughts today. Maybe tomorrow they will be crafty.
Since we recently bought a new car, (VW Rabbit), which I'm totally in love with...and I am a atmospheric scientist, and therefore should understand the fossil fuel problem intimately. The first question I'm asked is why didn't I buy a Prius.
The simple straightforward answer is the cost. We test drove a Prius, I drove a Corolla for years and was very happy with it and therefore Toyota, and I really liked driving the Prius...but it costs $6000 more then the car we bought. The common response is that I would save that in gas. Well after hearing this many times, I did the math. Considering that we would be financing that extra $6000, it actually translates to an increase in price of $6926.22 over the life of the loan. Assuming all else to be equal (maintenance, reliability, safety, both cars are PZEV, etc) Driving each car for 100,000 miles with gas being $4.00/gal, which it isn't yet and I think some federal relief is going to kick in before it gets there and if it gets there it won't stay there consistently for the duration, but we'll figure and average price of $4 over the next 10 years or so results in these costs, now I admit these numbers might be biased, because I used a 45 mile/gal figure for the Prius, which is not the rated value, but what average drivers report, and 28 miles/gal for the VW which is what I'm getting.: Prius $8,888, VW:$14,285. Difference: $5,397. Making the VW overall ~$1500 less then the Prius. Now, this may not seem like a big difference, but 1) Have you seen what they pay young scientists these days? Not enough to be fully environmentally friendly that's for sure. 2) I'm debt conscious, and may or may not have to qualify for another mortgage in the next year or so, an extra $7000 in the debt category makes a difference to me. 3) DH hated driving the Prius, and was determined to see how terrible he could do on gas mileage...meaning I doubt we'd ever see 45 mpg Also, we never got the real time gas mileage meter above 32 miles/gallon on a fairly long test drive...so the 55 they advertise is suspicious to me. 4) For us that difference was even greater since we had $725 in VW credits and they gave me nearly $1000 more then Toyota was going to for my old Corolla.
Now, does this make me un-environmentally friendly? Many people would say yes. I say no. I did seriously consider buying the Prius, if for no other reason than to support the alternate technology that I very strongly believe in. But, life is a balance, and making a purchase that large involves a lot of decisions, right now the big one being, can we afford the monthly payment and still put food (most of which is organic) on the table. Prius: No, VW: Yes.
So I continue to alter my life style in ways I can both feel good about and afford. Envirosaxs, locally grown food, carpooling almost everyday, recycling, high efficiency light bulbs, regulated thermostats, etc. I'm considering a TerraPass for the cars, but I need to spend some time doing the research on that before I purchase.
Maybe once I'm not a "young" scientist anymore I can truly afford to Go Green all the way.
Since we recently bought a new car, (VW Rabbit), which I'm totally in love with...and I am a atmospheric scientist, and therefore should understand the fossil fuel problem intimately. The first question I'm asked is why didn't I buy a Prius.
The simple straightforward answer is the cost. We test drove a Prius, I drove a Corolla for years and was very happy with it and therefore Toyota, and I really liked driving the Prius...but it costs $6000 more then the car we bought. The common response is that I would save that in gas. Well after hearing this many times, I did the math. Considering that we would be financing that extra $6000, it actually translates to an increase in price of $6926.22 over the life of the loan. Assuming all else to be equal (maintenance, reliability, safety, both cars are PZEV, etc) Driving each car for 100,000 miles with gas being $4.00/gal, which it isn't yet and I think some federal relief is going to kick in before it gets there and if it gets there it won't stay there consistently for the duration, but we'll figure and average price of $4 over the next 10 years or so results in these costs, now I admit these numbers might be biased, because I used a 45 mile/gal figure for the Prius, which is not the rated value, but what average drivers report, and 28 miles/gal for the VW which is what I'm getting.: Prius $8,888, VW:$14,285. Difference: $5,397. Making the VW overall ~$1500 less then the Prius. Now, this may not seem like a big difference, but 1) Have you seen what they pay young scientists these days? Not enough to be fully environmentally friendly that's for sure. 2) I'm debt conscious, and may or may not have to qualify for another mortgage in the next year or so, an extra $7000 in the debt category makes a difference to me. 3) DH hated driving the Prius, and was determined to see how terrible he could do on gas mileage...meaning I doubt we'd ever see 45 mpg Also, we never got the real time gas mileage meter above 32 miles/gallon on a fairly long test drive...so the 55 they advertise is suspicious to me. 4) For us that difference was even greater since we had $725 in VW credits and they gave me nearly $1000 more then Toyota was going to for my old Corolla.
Now, does this make me un-environmentally friendly? Many people would say yes. I say no. I did seriously consider buying the Prius, if for no other reason than to support the alternate technology that I very strongly believe in. But, life is a balance, and making a purchase that large involves a lot of decisions, right now the big one being, can we afford the monthly payment and still put food (most of which is organic) on the table. Prius: No, VW: Yes.
So I continue to alter my life style in ways I can both feel good about and afford. Envirosaxs, locally grown food, carpooling almost everyday, recycling, high efficiency light bulbs, regulated thermostats, etc. I'm considering a TerraPass for the cars, but I need to spend some time doing the research on that before I purchase.
Maybe once I'm not a "young" scientist anymore I can truly afford to Go Green all the way.
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