Yesterday was my 24th birthday. This seems neither too old nor too young for me, but somehow the wrong age anyway. Then again, I am the girl who when quizzed on her age by strangers sometimes still accidentally answers that she is 18, an age I have had the pleasure of not being for many years now.
My birthday was good for a lot of reasons. I spent the morning at the library looking at old photos, then took a long walk. I got a card from my mother, many calls and emails from friends and family (including a priceless voicemail from my brother in which he admitted that he 1) had initially forgotten my birthday 2) didn't know how old I was at first and 3) didn't know what city I currently live in), and went out for a ridiculously delicious dinner with Bron.
The best part about my birthday is that I'm gearing up for a lot of changes. Soon I'll be leaving one of my library jobs (the unpaid one), which is sad, because I really adore the work I do there--leaving so I can have that time to work on graduate school applications, including revising my master's thesis from last summer (more on that in a moment). I've also recently quit my job at the cafe, which is somewhat less prudent financially, but personally is like a dead weight lifted from my shoulders.
I'm excited about the fall and having a little more free time (or, at least, self-scheduled time). I baked a pie last week (peach pie with cornmeal crust) and realized how little I've had time to bake in the past year.
I've been surprised as I've started looking over my research and writing for my thesis just how much I love the topic I chose, and just how much more I have to say about it. The fact that I still have so much enthusiasm for Sigurd is galvanizing--in some false small way it makes me feel justified for wanting to undertake a PhD, like my ability to resurrect enthusiasm for a project I had spent so much time on and then not looked at for months is somehow proof that I'm cut out for it. Truth is there is no way to prove that I'm cut out for anything, except to try it on, give it a good go, and see if it fits.
I'm also considering submitting an abstract, based on my thesis, to NEMLA. The deadline is at the end of September, and there is a panel on spatio-temporal shifts in 19th century literature that I think my thesis would speak to well--there's a large section in the beginning about Morris's ellision of landscape, mythos/storytelling, and past-ness that I was planning on fleshing out more.
It's just too bad I can't think of a plausible way to tie the project to the panel on "The Politics of Meat in the 19th Century Novel."
According to Bron, there are quite a few of us baby Academes-in-training who are hoping to hop to NEMLA this year. Are you?
Showing posts with label grad school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grad school. Show all posts
12 August 2009
20 April 2009
Grad School: Bad School or Glad School?
Yes, I've been a bit lazy about updating my little blog recently--noticed perhaps only by Shiloh, my one faithful reader. Shi has recently settled on a graduate school program, gotten a scholarship for it, and is beginning the process of moving herself, her husband, and her insanely cute doggie across the county--I think congratulations are in order, and I thought I'd start with those since this post is about beginning the search for my own graduate program.
Last year, I completed a Master's degree at the University of London--I did this straight out of undergrad, which gave me a kind of mixed bag of experience. I should perhaps have listened more closely to friends and professors who advised me to wait a year before setting off into graduate study, because my goals upon entering that program and my goals now have definitely shifted--but on the other hand, as a personal experience, living in London, getting that degree, meeting my lady, and just generally having a year of study and reflection rather than sloth and dejection after getting my BA--these were all good things.
Anyway, this year has been a lot about figuring out professional goals, and I think I have a fair handle on what I want to do, and now I'm looking at schools that can help me get things done.
It's funny to be applying to graduate school again and to notice how much my methods and thinking about it have changed. The last time around, I was much more haphazard--I pretty much just relied on the universe to work things out for me, and went with my gut reaction to a school most of the time. I didn't look very closely at things like financial aid or the specific research interests of the school/faculty, and I went for quantity much more than quality in terms of my own applications. I guess in the end the universe has the last laugh--I do think things worked out for me, but not the way I expected.
This time around I'm trying to be more thorough. Funding is more important to me now than I realized last time around, so that's something I've paid more attention to, in addition to checking out faculty interests, course listings, institution's resources outside their department, resources in the surrounding area, and chances for internships and graduate research.
But, in the end, sometimes it does come down to a gut reaction--why do some programs stick in my mind while other similar ones fall by the wayside? Why are some programs so exciting that I am willing to overlook the fact that they are located in a cornfield surrounded by a windswept tundra of Midwesternness, while others remain only frustratingly place-bound? Trying to analyze these reactions can be confusing, and sometimes only comes down to good or bad website design (although, since I'm looking at MLIS programs, I DO think usability and clear information access are more important than they would be for, say, an English department website).
Other times, though, I think it has to do with voices--whose voice comes through the summary descriptions of two years or more of what my life might be? Is the voice the cold checklist of ALA-accreditation, or is it the warm voice of interest, scholarship, and history? Is the voice the voice of the bureaucracy of an institution, or is it the voice of the professors and department chairs who make up the fabric of the program? Sometimes, rarely, it can be the voice of the students themselves--today looking through the website of a program I'm kind of on the fence about, I found my way to the online publication of the MLIS students--articles about libraries and books, interviews with interesting professionals, photographs of great libraries around the world; all written and compiled by students, and showcased by a proud department. Suddenly, the search stopped being about what kind of classes were offered or how perfectly suited the catalog was to my interests, but rather about wanting to be in a place where students are interesting, thinking creatures, and a department filled with faculty who are capable of recognizing that and promoting it.
And in the end, that is exactly what I want from a school, you know.
Last year, I completed a Master's degree at the University of London--I did this straight out of undergrad, which gave me a kind of mixed bag of experience. I should perhaps have listened more closely to friends and professors who advised me to wait a year before setting off into graduate study, because my goals upon entering that program and my goals now have definitely shifted--but on the other hand, as a personal experience, living in London, getting that degree, meeting my lady, and just generally having a year of study and reflection rather than sloth and dejection after getting my BA--these were all good things.
Anyway, this year has been a lot about figuring out professional goals, and I think I have a fair handle on what I want to do, and now I'm looking at schools that can help me get things done.
It's funny to be applying to graduate school again and to notice how much my methods and thinking about it have changed. The last time around, I was much more haphazard--I pretty much just relied on the universe to work things out for me, and went with my gut reaction to a school most of the time. I didn't look very closely at things like financial aid or the specific research interests of the school/faculty, and I went for quantity much more than quality in terms of my own applications. I guess in the end the universe has the last laugh--I do think things worked out for me, but not the way I expected.
This time around I'm trying to be more thorough. Funding is more important to me now than I realized last time around, so that's something I've paid more attention to, in addition to checking out faculty interests, course listings, institution's resources outside their department, resources in the surrounding area, and chances for internships and graduate research.
But, in the end, sometimes it does come down to a gut reaction--why do some programs stick in my mind while other similar ones fall by the wayside? Why are some programs so exciting that I am willing to overlook the fact that they are located in a cornfield surrounded by a windswept tundra of Midwesternness, while others remain only frustratingly place-bound? Trying to analyze these reactions can be confusing, and sometimes only comes down to good or bad website design (although, since I'm looking at MLIS programs, I DO think usability and clear information access are more important than they would be for, say, an English department website).
Other times, though, I think it has to do with voices--whose voice comes through the summary descriptions of two years or more of what my life might be? Is the voice the cold checklist of ALA-accreditation, or is it the warm voice of interest, scholarship, and history? Is the voice the voice of the bureaucracy of an institution, or is it the voice of the professors and department chairs who make up the fabric of the program? Sometimes, rarely, it can be the voice of the students themselves--today looking through the website of a program I'm kind of on the fence about, I found my way to the online publication of the MLIS students--articles about libraries and books, interviews with interesting professionals, photographs of great libraries around the world; all written and compiled by students, and showcased by a proud department. Suddenly, the search stopped being about what kind of classes were offered or how perfectly suited the catalog was to my interests, but rather about wanting to be in a place where students are interesting, thinking creatures, and a department filled with faculty who are capable of recognizing that and promoting it.
And in the end, that is exactly what I want from a school, you know.
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