Since I threw my hat in the ring, I have to say I've been a little bit excited. Just the thought that I might get a job doing something that is so much closer to what I went to school to do - while maintaining all the positive aspects of my current job (aside from most likely the awesomest boss in the world). At this point, I don't think it even matters if I get the job*, I'm just enjoying basking in the glow of possibilities.
Oh, and the possibility of relocating to Dream State.
Kind of like what I hear playing the lottery is like - the ability to dream about what you'd do with the money if you won is worth the $1 you spent on the ticket.
Except, I spent 9 hours of sick time and $15 in faxing my educational evidence. And, if I won the lottery I'd make more money than at any of the jobs I applied to, and I'd have to work at the job that paid less than winning the lottery...perhaps I should reevaluate this whole job vs lottery thing...
*I can say this safely on this side of hearing they don't want me. If I get a rejection, which is highly probable given the competition for the type of work I'm trying to do, I will probably be depressed for a while.
Showing posts with label Academ-a-what?. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Academ-a-what?. Show all posts
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Making a deal with the Devil
One of the major requirements of my advisor upon signing that little piece of paper that says I am done with grad school, is the promise to publish the dissertation.
Like most, I was willing to promise anything just to make the grad school hell end. And, part of me knew my diss was pretty damn good. And, frankly, I find publishing a secret addiction. I love the affermation that I wrote something worth putting in print and the possibility that someone somewhere will site me.
As a first step toward meeting this promise, I submitted a poster on a very very small part of my diss. Something that was clean and easy to write up. Something that came out as expected, but interesting to a broader audience.
At the poster itself, I had quite a few people stop to chat. Asking where this is being published because it's a great contribution. Then, running into advisor at the conference-watering-hole, I was again asked when I was publishing.
My answer was "Eventually" or "Soon" or something to that effect.
Then, I got an email from the conference folks asking to conduct an interview about the paper to be published on their website and 'selected other media outlets'.
Holy shit! Really?!?!
And that is when I caved. I emailed Advisor to ask where to send the paper to begin the reviewing process for publication. And, that is when the guilt associated with doing all the formating and eventual responses to reviewers was placed right back on my head.
Future-self is going to HATE me.
Like most, I was willing to promise anything just to make the grad school hell end. And, part of me knew my diss was pretty damn good. And, frankly, I find publishing a secret addiction. I love the affermation that I wrote something worth putting in print and the possibility that someone somewhere will site me.
As a first step toward meeting this promise, I submitted a poster on a very very small part of my diss. Something that was clean and easy to write up. Something that came out as expected, but interesting to a broader audience.
At the poster itself, I had quite a few people stop to chat. Asking where this is being published because it's a great contribution. Then, running into advisor at the conference-watering-hole, I was again asked when I was publishing.
My answer was "Eventually" or "Soon" or something to that effect.
Then, I got an email from the conference folks asking to conduct an interview about the paper to be published on their website and 'selected other media outlets'.
Holy shit! Really?!?!
And that is when I caved. I emailed Advisor to ask where to send the paper to begin the reviewing process for publication. And, that is when the guilt associated with doing all the formating and eventual responses to reviewers was placed right back on my head.
Future-self is going to HATE me.
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