PhD Anxieties & Enjoying the Moment

Last week I went to a forum for prospective PhD students. We spoke with students currently enrolled in PhD programs, as well as young professors who recently graduated from PhD programs. While there was positive feedback from most, there are inevitably some rather gloomy details about graduate school that tend to sometimes weigh out the good, including (but not limited to) the extreme stress of obtaining a degree and writing a dissertation, a very bad job market, very competitive PhD programs, and a lack of tenure teaching jobs. While I am painfully aware of such realities, the forum brought so many “What if?” questions to the forefront of my mind.

I came back to my apartment and called my mother (aka Ultimate Source of Wisdom and Encouragement) and she said, "Are you enjoying what you're doing right now? If so, let that be enough." Although at first it seemed like overly simple and sentimental advice, when I sat down at my kitchen table that night to write a paper, her words returned to me. Am I enjoying what I am doing right now? Right in this moment? Well, yes. Yes, I am. 

I am reading many new books--some that I love, some that I don't love, but all that I appreciate. I am being exposed to new sets of ideas that can inform my life both within and beyond the walls of the university. I am engaging in deep discussions about race, gender, and sexuality with like-minded people. I am becoming a better writer and researcher. I am writing about the relationship between ideology, culture, and literature. I am developing a new vocabulary. I am being taught how to be an active and critical reader. My mind is being stretched and I am learning something new every day. And I am doing that all for free, because I’ve been blessed with complete tuition remission. How many people have the privilege of taking two years of their life to dedicate solely to reading, writing, researching, and discussing that which is meaningful to them? There may be no other time in my life that I can do something like this, and some never get the luxury at all.

It dawned on me that even if I don’t get my PhD—even if I were to go in a completely different direction after my MA degree—I am still blessed with the unique experience to study what I love, with no financial hardships. PhD or no PhD, I still graduate as a richer person, equipped with a broader vocabulary and knowledge, as well as a unique set of experiences that both challenged and fulfilled me. Most importantly, here in this very moment (all that's truly guaranteed anyway) I am enjoying what I am doing. And for now, that's enough.

Election Reflections

This past Tuesday, I sat in my apartment and watched as the words, "President Obama Re-Elected!" flash across my television screen. I voted for President Obama months ago via absentee-ballot, and since then had no other choice but to wait patiently while my fellow Americans decided who should be our next Commander in Chief. After watching Mitt Romney's concession and the president's acceptance speech, I tossed and turned in bed that night until close to 4am reflecting on everything that I learned this election season.

I learned that politics are personal. I think I always knew this, but it became even more profound during this election with issues such as gay marriage and abortion/women's health being important topics in political discourse. There were moments when I read Facebook statuses from my conservative friends about gay marriage and I would feel mentally and physically drained, exhausted from arguing and defending the rights of my gay loved ones. I was reminded that as much as we like to separate ourselves from "political" issues, we are forever attached to them. The personal is political. It's tied to everything important to us: our religions, our experiences, our present and future lives, and our values concerning life, death, faith, ethics, sexuality, and work. The immense significance that such topics can hold reveals why it is so important to make sure we talk about them, and especially that we talk about them in constructive ways.

This election taught me how grateful I am for intelligent and respectful debate. I have many people who disagree with me, but only a few who can disagree with me constructively and politely. I have a few Republican/moderate friends in particular--Gene and Rachel--who are always willing to dialogue with me, share ideas with me, and listen to my point of view. I must admit that sometimes it's nice to sit around with my most passionate liberal friends and rant about how "utterly stupid" we think Republicans are. Sometimes you need that. But, at the end of the day, we all know that while such dialogue is momentarily gratifying, it's not productive; it doesn't make me or anyone else better. The kind of discussions I have with people like Gene and Rachel, however, hold potential to do something powerful: they can force us to see another perspective and/or force us to are-evaluate our own. I especially experienced the latter this election season. While most if not all of my ideas stayed the same even while being put under question, they did nonetheless actually strengthen after being tested. I walked away with a renewed commitment to my own values. I would hope that even if I did not change my conservative friends' minds, that they too felt a deeper, more thoughtful and reasonable investment in their own principles. 

Additionally, I learned that I am still a believer. Obviously, I am careful not to fall into the "One Leader Solves All" trap, because I know that neither Barack Obama nor Mitt Romney have the power to single handedly destroy or fix an entire country. I know that true world-changers are not politicians, but rather, activists who receive a hell of a lot less money and fame. However, despite this realization, I am still a believer in the power and ability of my government to make and maintain positive change. I still believe that I can elect leaders who will defend my rights and the rights of my loved ones. I am still honored to be able to have the freedom to participate in this messy yet wonderful democracy.

And lastly, I learned that this "belief" can be rewarded, because when I woke up on November 7th 2012, I had more reason to hope in my society than I did the day before. After that election night, I had four more years of a president who I believe is doing good things for my country. I had more women representing me in Congress than ever in American history. A record number of young people showed up at the polls and voted. A record number of Latino, African American, and female voters showed up at the polls and voted. My gay friends could get married in three new states--Maryland, Maine, and Washington. For the first time in American history, gay marriage was passed by popular vote. The first openly gay female senator was elected. Elizabeth Warren was elected. And, Todd Akin--the man who made some brutally stupid comments about rape and pregnancy earlier in the year--lost reelection by a landslide.

I told a friend recently that I will have so much more time to dedicate to other things now that the election over. She looked at me and said, "You're freaking insane." She's right. I am freaking insane for arguing over the same issues again and again with people who may never change their minds. I am insane for reading the articles, the opinion columns, the political comics, and the polls. I am insane for believing that a flawed yet powerful system can create positive change. I am insane for looking forward to doing it all over again in 2016; not because the process in itself is enjoyable, but simply because I still hold onto the irrational yet self-sustaining hope of this democracy: that my vote and my voice can somehow make a difference.

One Month Update

It has been exactly one month since I started graduate school. I have not blogged mostly because there has been much I have been processing and experiencing that I didn't feel I had the ability to put into actual words. Living in a new place, starting a new school, and a new job were major changes in themselves, but even they were somewhat eclipsed by a recent family situation that has left me rather imbalanced. Until I am able to write something more profound, I will instead offer a basic update on the last 30 days.

I am currently taking two courses: Lit Theory & The Profession of Literature, and Women & Skepticism: Early American Literature. So far both of these courses have been difficult (especially the reading load and level of writing), but also incredibly rewarding. The graduate school classroom has offered me a safe place where like-minded people strive to understand and challenge the complex ideas within our field. It has only been four weeks, and I already feel that I have learned so much about my discipline.

A part from my schooling, I am enjoying my part time job as the head graduate assistant in the university's Gender and Women's Studies department. It is different from my work in the Women's Center during undergrad in that it is an academic department rather than a resource center, but it seems to do a decent job at offering programs that cater to both activism and academics. I help manage the major/minor (which is relatively small at this point), as well as plan/coordinate events that relate to gender and women's issues. Tomorrow, for instance, we have an event that is a joint lecture and poetry reading that focuses on Anna Douglass. I am slowly being given more responsibilities and am especially looking forward to the opportunity of leading a pop-culture book club for undergraduate students. I'm starting with Fifty Shades of Grey. Go big or go home, right?

In closing, a quote in one of my theoretical articles found great resonance with me: "Although time can always be studied scientifically and broken up into equal units, time is also always lived subjectively. As we know, one minute of routine work is lived very differently than a moment of a passionate kiss." Time has always perplexed me, but that mystification has now only grown more profound. In many ways, the last 30 days have felt like years; yet in another breath, like days. For the relatively short amount of time it has been, I have already learned and experienced so much. It is difficult for me to imagine all of what is still to come.

(Until then, I extend an ever-grateful "thanks" to my loved ones who have supported me, cheered for me, prayed for me, listened to my complaints, and stood by me as I continue to adjust. It is no exaggeration to say that I survive--and have any chance at succeeding--everyday in the classroom and in the office because of the people who offer me such steadfast support.)

Right Places

I call this blog a "new write place" with the hopes of acknowledging that prior to this new stage of life, there was another place that I felt was truly right. The four years I spent at a small liberal arts college were some of the very happiest of my entire life. I was not only having fun, enjoying the people I was with, studying what I love, and feeling like I was making a difference, but I was also overwhelmed with this deep rooted sense that I was in the right place. I had an unwavering peace and contentment that I was in the absolute right place at the right time, being exactly who I wanted to be, and doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing. I never had this kind of contentment before, and truth be told, it was somewhat intoxicating.

One of my main fears then about graduating was that I would lose that peace and never again be able to find it. (This may sound dramatic to some, but keep in mind that this was in fact a fear and most fears are not rational.) In response to this, I have really tried to reflect on the importance of appreciating the stage of your life that you are in rather than pining for the better one behind you (or the supposed better one ahead of you). In Yoga class, we are asked to quietly reflect on a particular word and I will often dwell on "contentment"; that is, contentment to be here, in this place, at this moment, whatever that place and that moment happens to be.

But, that's really easy to utter in Yoga class and a hell of a lot harder to actually live out. I must admit that yesterday at my new university's orientation it was difficult for me not to compare this academic community to my old one. Often times I will find criticisms and negative comparisons floating across my mind. I was telling a friend about this and she encouraged me to do what I constantly long for others to do politically and ideologically: embrace difference. What this means is that I don't expect my new institution, new home, new friendships to be the same as what I had before; rather, I embrace that one is not necessarily better or worse than the other, they are just different.

This is profound advice. When those sneaky and unfair comparisons rage, I have to consciously remind myself although this place certainly isn't the same, it can still be right and good.  Besides excelling in my studies, that is my number one goal; to make right and feel right in the place that I am in. Like embracing and celebrating any kind of difference, this will have moments of discomfort, but it will also reap great personal expansion. I know that the key to real contentment is willingness to grow and be stretched as I embrace different experiences even while I continue to cherish the ones that are behind me.

Beginnings

The months of January-May 2010 make up what I lovingly refer to as my “magical semester.” This was the spring semester of my sophomore year, the 19th year of my life, and it was a time of great awakening, inspiration, and fulfillment. I switched my concentration to Literature. All of my classes were related to my majors. I took a class called Literary Theory that challenged every belief, idea, and understanding of the world that I possessed. Ideologically, I was shaken to the core. I formed a couple friendships that remain some of the most important relationships in my life. For the very first time, I held leadership positions in different activism roles. I also officially decided that my dream was to go to graduate school and get my PhD.

Since that afternoon in March when I sat with my academic advisor and declared, “This is what I want,” I have worked effortlessly to make sure I get into graduate school. After two years of writing, studying, and applying, I was finally accepted into three schools and chose one with the best financial package. Now my reality is that in exactly one week, I will move to a new city all by myself, start a job as a head graduate assistant, and begin work on my MA degree in English.

I mention my “magical semester” because I believe that’s where this journey was birthed. If my academic journey were a narrative, I would say that my “magical semester” was the chronological beginning. Like the most classical beginnings in a narrative, its role is to a set story into motion; it is a catalyst; it is, as the Oxford Dictionary would define, a moment or series of moments that brings something “into being.” While I would argue that life is made up of a constant stream of endless beginnings (many we don’t even realize), my “magical” semester was a markedly conscious beginning that set this new journey of mine into movement.

This upcoming journey is the reason why I felt that I needed a new blog. My older site was full of entries that reflect some of the most meaningful happenings in my life, but I feel that they are a collection of moments that ultimately compose a very different part of my life. A different chapter in my story. I felt that a new job, a new degree, a new city, and a new stage of life called for a different writing “space.” I am dwelling in a new place physically—in an apartment, a city, and different academic community. My writing needs a figurative space in which it can explore, grapple with, and process these new physical spaces.

I wish that I could end this first entry will something incredibly profound or meaningful, but the truth is I can’t. I have many feelings as I enter this stage of life—more conflicting feelings than I have ever had about any transition—and all I can do is feel each emotion as it comes. I have no idea what to expect, and because of that, I’ve decided not to expect much at all. The very most I can say is that I am immensely thankful to have been given this opportunity to pursue my dream, to study what I love, and to be privileged enough to embark on a journey that is fully about my own aspirations. May I take these next few years and live them well.