what Was, what Is, and what Will Be

Of all the things that have been on my mind recently pun intended, ranging from fevers, commitment to work, time management priorities, the subjectivity of pain, and the trouble of miscommunication, headaches are probably the most fun topic I could choose to talk about now.  Yes, I know I said I wouldn’t use this space to whine, and maybe I am and maybe I’m not, but holy shit, do I hate headaches.  They are pointless, and they ruin days.

Take today.  I have been sick recently, which is what it is, lots of people are sick right now.  I also haven’t been sleeping well, what I’m now labeling “insomnia”, maybe even “stress induced insomnia” after a couple visits to the school health center.  Neither of those two things get me much sympathy.  I’m expected to still do my job because everyone gets sick and all grad students have insomnia.

But headaches.  Headaches are different.  I get them.  Others don’t .  And that really confuses me.  I can’t remember the last time I’ve gone for more than a week without a headache, and that distance between pain is pretty unusual.  In general, I get some type of headache every other day, a pretty bad one once a week, and a migraine at least once a month.  Yes, I’m finally doing something about this issue and talking to a doctor who knows things, even trying out some fun drugs and prevention / fixes.

That’s nice in the long term (hopefully), but in the short term, migraines fucking suck.  I dreamed the most crazy stuff last night (part of that was probably due to the fact that I dream a lot anyway meaning I’m not getting into the right kind of sleep, that I spent most of the night coughing fun things up from who knows where so really wasn’t sleeping anyway, and that I woke up with a slight fever that I probably had during the night).  But mostly, I had a headache.  And headaches aren’t fun.  It will go away eventually, and then it will be like nothing happened.

I can’t wait.

As anyone who has browsed this blog enough or has known me in the last, oh, 15 years might remember, I like to take pictures and, more recently, draw birds.  See exhibits A and B for a refresher course.  These things make me happy.  They may make me happy for one or a combination of a number of reasons, I don’t really care about the exact mechanisms of contentment.  I like pictures, and I really like pictures that have come from my own hands.

And now we come to the point of my post.  Would I still like photography and drawing if they were actually my job?  I am currently being paid (well enough to live but not as much as I should be) to  sit at a computer and write about things I’ve already done, research I’ve already finished, and data I’ve already analyzed.  That is better than having to analyze the data (which I did last semester) but not as fun as collecting it in the first place (and by collecting it, I mean playing in a greenhouse and paddling a kayak).  But maybe those two other activities were fun because I was getting to take pictures and look at living things at the time as opposed to word smithing said biology into numbers and letters on the virtual page.

Well, there’s nothing I can do about my current career choice.  I am a graduate student, and I need to graduate.  So enough stalling, back to the thesis.

Don’t worry, I’ve got some Trini birds to draw later.  Pictures to follow.

And no, it’s not because I wear “sky-high heels all day”…  Which would look pretty funny with my usual outfit of fairly unwashed (aren’t you lucky that none of you live close to me) and therefore comfy jeans, some sort of t-shirt (some are dressyish, I swear I’m getting better) and, since its winter, a sweatshirt.  I can’t really fathom doing to yourself what feudal societies did to their women so they couldn’t run away, but that’s a topic for another post.

Anyway, I ran yesterday and did the set of stretches I can remember from the various sports I’ve played in the past, but my calves still feel like they are being grabbed and twisted.  A slight exaggeration, I suppose, but still.  I’m looking into how I’m really supposed to stretch to address said issue that makes me walk like an idiot for the first minute or two after I get up from sitting, and I’m going to assume that my body will stop rebelling at some point and accept the fact that I’m going to use it on a daily basis. This site seems pretty useful, plus I’m starting to stretch before bed in an effort to fight this wonderful insomnia I’ve developed (yes, I blame grad school…).  Oh, and that move at 1:30, I seriously can’t even start to do.  Yes, it’s sad, but I’m working on it.

That’s about all I’ve got for now, other than that it’s seriously dumb out (i.e. cold, cloudy, and snowing again).  So in order to pretend I’m not in Indiana, I’m going to need some help.  Sing it, Wolverine.

So I turn to my go to happy music.  Rock it, guys.

Time is a squirrely little beast.

This is not the first time I’ve expressed my dislike for this confluence of perception and reality.  I mean, the thing doesn’t really actually exist.  It goes fast or it goes slow.  You can make it, you can take it, you can use it, and you can loose it.  What a silly concept.

Perfect example is sleeping, of which I have not been doing much lately.  I try, and time passes, but I seem to be awake or semi-awake for most of the time spent laying in bed.  Not a good thing.  Unless you happen to enjoy dreaming and remember them when you wake up, which I do and can.  Not the most restful of sleep, but pretty darn interesting in my opinion.  I like the waking world just fine, but the dreaming world is full of adventure and confusion leading to never dull and always ridiculous situations.  But, the longer I sit here, the more sluggish my body gets (mind is still kicking like a fiend), so, sleep is good, evidently.

As a side note, I can’t believe I almost let dark chocolate marzipan go stale.  Blasphemous, that is.

A friend of mine just posted a blog entry about Saturdays, and basically how nice they are.  I very much agree, even though I rarely actually feel like I can enjoy the weekend myself.  This is a choice, I am now willing to admit.  A choice which I am going to reverse.  I am going to enjoy weekends, and enjoy myself, and still be a functioning member of the graduate school community.  Yes, you people will get your papers and I will get my thesis, but I’m going to come out a balanced individual if it takes every ounce of effort in my mind and body.

One of the main things that came out of my last committee meeting (i.e. me, a computer, and a projector in a smallish, very purple room with four professors I respect and like but are gently intimidating when they’re together all paying attention to me and only me, in theory) was that I should seriously consider / reconsider going on for a PhD.  They told me to take that as a compliment, and I’m trying my darndest to do so, because that means I’m good at this school and learning and publishing papers thing.  I’m going to have a conversation with one of those professors next week that will run along the similar theme.

And my point of frustration is this.  I’ve never been out of school.  I’ve always had tasks to do at every point in the day on every day of the week because yes, the tasks had deadlines, but it would be better if I did them sooner or put more time into them because everything can be better with more work.  I, I don’t think I like this.  I am not the kind of person who takes responsibilities lightly, and my mindset for the last threeish years has been that I am here for school and school alone, so therefore that is what I should be doing at all times.

That conversation should be interesting.  I do see the point of further education and further degrees, but I also need to see the point of my own life.  This, as many people tell me, is a choice.  I know a number of grad students that choose time for themselves and appear to be relatively sane.  But that number is not very large.  The vast majority of grad students I interact with on a daily basis have a hard time balancing themselves with the work they need to do.  One of my main advisors has told me on a few occasions that graduate school is not the place to find yourself.  And while I agree with him, I also hate it and think its a dirty lie at the same time.  I’m learning a lot about myself by struggling through the hoops placed in front of me.  I’m also learning a lot about the person I want to be, which is that of one who is balanced and finds worth in both things I would do purely for myself as well as in the things I do for others that benefit me on paper in the long run.

We shall see what happens.  As for right now, I am going to do what I think will make me feel good and content.  Which means at the moment writing a bit on my thesis so I can go run / walk / be somewhere not at a computer.  I apologize slightly if I’ve broken the rule of no whining on this virtual space of mine, but not too much, because I consider this a cathartic musing more than a rant.  It is what it is, right?