Tag Archives: colleagues

Party-induced Realizations; or; Why Academics Should not get their Hands on a Slip and Slide

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Wednesday evening, at a party which answered the age-old question “what happens when a group of academics have access to a large house, copious amounts of booze, and a slip and slide?” (hint: the answer involved me re-evaluating how any child survived the

greasy little death-traps they are, but oh so much fun!

nineties, and mentally writing several obituaries beginning with the words “Promising academic [John Smith] perished in tragic slip and slide accident this fourth of July….”), I realized several things.

Realization one: Having survived my first year, I am now officially a “grizzled old-timer” of the department.  I’m debating investing in a flat cap and a cane.

Realization two: Come September, there will be a whole new crop of first-years, as wide-eyed and nervous and excited as I was last September, all ready and willing to begin their journey into academic theatrics.  This will mean many things in terms of atmosphere in the department, and I truly hope that those who do show (I’ve had the good pleasure to meet/exchange e-mails with/chat with some of them) add as much to the environment round these parts as we did.  Folks who pursue a PhD in Drama are interesting types; loud, smart, occasionally obnoxious, always eccentric, charming, witty, we’re all so very different from each other that when we’re put in the same room there’s the very real possibility of spontaneous combustion.  Here’s hoping we make fireworks and not forest fires.

Realization three: In just one short, arduous year, I too will join the ranks of those who have fondly galloped forth into the sunset of dissertation land.  Heck, a year from September and with any luck I’ll be ABD.  That thought is only vaguely terrifying.  Mostly because all thoughts about my dissertation at this juncture can only be vague.

Realization four: Summer is a time when academics get less work done than they had hoped to, more than they had planned to, and just enough to keep themselves going for the coming year.

while this is always what I imagine work-on-vacation to look like, it’s really not anything resembling reality.

Realization five:  Summer is also a time when academics are allowed to occasionally take a much-needed break.  When is the last time I walked away from my desk for more than a day and a half and not thought about work?  Normal people take weekends every week…. I’m allowed to have a day or two off (and should take them on a regular basis).  I also should not feel guilty about the week-long vacation I have planned.  I also should avoid bringing work with me (…but will I follow through on this?  Probably not).

Realization six:  When attending a party with colleagues, try to come armed with conversation topics that are not your work.  This is much more challenging than one may think.  Academia can be extremely isolating; most of my work is done at my own desk without anyone else around.  The true kernel of my research is not something that I have occasion to discuss very frequently.  As a result, whenever I’m around folks whom I feel will get it, I’m so eager to talk about it that I lose sight of all other topics of conversation.  Suddenly I become a machine, a cyber-man, a single-minded zombie of academia with only one thought to drive my actions: SHAAAAKKKEEESSSPPPPEEEAAARRREEEEE.  It’s extremely easy for me to forget that my colleagues are people too who may prefer to have real-life conversations than talk about work constantly.  Next time; pocket-sized cue cards with tips for things that normal people talk about.  What do normal people talk about?

Realization seven: Wow, I know some really smart people.  Like… really smart.  Like… totally smart.  God, have I told you how smart you are recently?  And pretty.  You’re pretty.

Realization eight: When drinking sangria, don’t eat the fruit.

Gettin’ by with a Little Help from my Friends

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Since things are firmly set in motion and I think I’ve finally gotten into a good rhythm with my class reading, you know what that means.

Time to start thinking about final papers.

And, ideally, time to start doing more than thinking about final papers.

In my case, I’ve begun preliminary research on all three of my finals and am pending final approval on my (albeit currently vague) topics.

This means meetings.  Meetings with Professors.  During office house.

One of my Professors happens to be the chair of my department, so our little sit-down also meant that I had to opportunity to catch up on certain administrative particulars about my Tufts career.  The meeting was going so well, and was so brief, that at the end I had the opportunity to ask a few questions.  Really, the only thing that I could articulate at 10AM before I had finished my coffee was a broad and sweeping statement assuring that I covered my own bum in case of giant blind spots…  “So… is there anything else I should be worried about?”

He smiled and said, “Well, is there anything else you are worried about?  Some students find their first semester overwhelming, but you seem to be doing pretty well.”

I’m not going to lie, the vote of confident was nice.

However.  I had to laugh.

“Well, yes.”  I said, once I could manage a sentence again.  “But I was an actor in a former life.”

…. Oh yes, cool, calm, collected on the outside.  Let me assure you, Professor, it’s not just

We're gonna need a bigger boat...

“some” students who find their first semester overwhelming.  In many ways, the first semester has been akin to walking into a room and sitting in what you thought was a nice comfy chair.  Then there emerge straps from the chair which twine themselves around you and hold you firmly and securely in place.  After the initial shock of that, you realize that the chair is still comfortable; it simply cares for your well-being (clearly) and doesn’t want to let anything bad happen to you.  Just are you begin to wonder why it would be that a CHAIR would have PREHENSILE STRAPS and the vague notion stirs in your mind that maybe sitting in this particular chair wasn’t your most brilliant plan, the chair begins to toss and turn like the Minnow on that fateful stormy sea at the tail end of its three hour tour.  You become dizzy.  You become sick.  You become tired.  Everything is brand new, and there’s so much of it, shape, form, color, it threatens to swallow you whole…

…and then just as you begin to think that your sanity is done for, the chair steadies out a bit.  Oh it’s not smooth sailing, and there are definitely some rough patches, but you begin to get a feel for navigating.  You begin to understand where you have to exert pressure to help keep yourself from tipping.  You begin to anticipate the least comfortable positions that the chair could be in and learn how to prepare for them.  You even begin to think about how to fit this chair into your own living room so that the rest of your life can go on during the brief glimpses of calm ocean.

And (perhaps most importantly) you begin to spot other chairs.  You begin to get advice from those who have traveled further down this path.  You begin to learn from their mistakes, to let them guide you because they probably know what they’re talking about.  You bring your chair into synch with some of the chair-sitters next to you.  You all paddle together for a while so you don’t feel so alone.  You give each other advice about things you’ve found out during your sojourns on the open ocean by yourself.  You have a support network.

My colleagues have proven an invaluable resource in this journey so far, and I look forward to many years of that continuing.  It is strange and funny to think about how long I will potentially know these people, and how much they will influence my sanity (or lack thereof).  The department has provided multiple opportunities for academic boozefests (which, trust me, I have indulged in as much as so-far possible).  These have turned into a wealth of information-sharing, sanity-retention, and overall comfort-regaining in this crazy thing that I’ve decided to do with my life.

I suppose the moral of today’s story is such: learn to rely on those around you and provide as much support to them as you can because, trust me, you’re going to need their support in return.  Work hard, try to keep your eyes on a still point in the turning world, and above all remember the Hitchhiker’s credo.