Tuesday, April 19, 2011

a lot can happen in one day...

The countdown has begun, 4 days left until the day when...well, the day when I'm not sure what to do after it. What will I do when there is no dissertation to write, no looming deadlines, *gasp* an entire weekend where I may not need to be in my office? Truly, I'm not sure I remember how to handle a life like that.

For you to really get the full picture of this story, we need to go all the way back to December. Picture a day when I needed to be up north to run a scan at the imaging center in the early afternoon, and had tickets to see an early evening movie downtown. My scan was canceled at the last minute, after I was already up north, so I did a few errands and made my way home around 2:30pm. I wasn't in a particular rush, I wasn't stressed out, I was just enjoying a nice, sunny, December afternoon. I was heading west on MLK Dr, about to turn left onto my street. I waited for traffic to slow on the eastbound side, then all of a sudden, there was a motorcycle cop on the eastbound side who stopped before my street and waved me to turn. So I did. Because, when a cop tells you to turn, you do. Although, I was mighty confused as to why he stopped in the middle of the road, in the left hand lane, and made me turn across traffic. But I did it. As it turns out, he also turned and put his lights on. I live about 4 houses in from MLK, and so by the time I realized what was happening, I was pulled into my driveway. The motorcycle cop right behind me. What? Had he pulled me over? From the other side of the street? Going the opposite direction? on a motorcycle? In my driveway?! Turns out, he had. He says I was speeding, in a school zone. Which, I was in a school zone. He "clocked" me at 30 mph. The normal speed limit is 35, the school zone limit is 20. The school zone starts one street west of my own, so I had been in that school zone for all of 20 feet (ok, 302 feet according to google maps). In that span I came to a complete stop (to make my left hand turn) and the cop was equally as far away going the opposite direction. I'm unsure HOW this happened. But, I am not one to question authority, so I just sat there. In my own driveway, while he wrote a HEFTY ticket for going 10 miles over the speed limit IN A SCHOOL ZONE.

In TX, you can opt out of one ticket per year by taking a Defensive Drivers Training. You have to pay something like $130 to the court for this option, but then it won't get reported to insurance. The $130 was cheaper than the price of the ticket, and avoids all the increases in insurance premiums. So, I opted for that. In order to request this option you need to mail the court a copy of your insurance card, a copy of your license and a notarized form from the ticket. This all happened right before I was to leave for RI for Christmas, so the day before I left I decided to make copies, find a notary, and send this sucker off. As if it wasn't bad enough that I was given a speeding ticket in my driveway, this next bit was infuriating.

I headed off to school to make my photocopies, and find a notary. I started with the notary. There are supposedly 3 in the bulding next door to ours. Turns out, each office sent me to one of the other offices, because no one actually had a notary. Then finally one lady just recommended I go to a bank. Turns out, I'm wasn't at a bank, I was on the University of Texas campus, where there are supposedly 100+ notaries. But, she suggested I just try a bank. This ordeal had wasted about an hour, and it was lunch time, so I quickly made a copy of my license, my insurance card, and went off to meet a friend for lunch. After lunch I made a quick stop at the grocery store on my way to the bank. At the grocery store I needed to return some items (I know, I know, who returns things to the grocery store....) and they needed to see my license. My license. That I just photocopied. I couldn't find it ANYWHERE. Panic set in, because I was getting on a plane at 6 the next morning, and while I had a passport, that wouldn't do any good for all the driving I was planning to do on my visit home. I searched everywhere - my backpack, my car, my office, the copy machine, the place I ate lunch, the various offices without notaries. Nothing. Anywhere. In my search though, I did find an insurance card in my backpack that had the correct date on it, which made me wonder about the card I had photocopied and returned safely to my glovebox. Yes, expired. So here it is, I have been given a ticket in my driveway. I have a photocopy of a license that has been lost, a photocopy of an insurance card that is expired, and no notary. It's closing in on 2:30, and I have a flight in 18 hours. I'll save the goory details of having to go to two different DMVs, and stopping at a bank on the way because the DMV only takes cash - a bank that probably had a notary, but I was there without my things that needed notarizing. I'll also save you from the conversation I had with my mother who suggested I "be sure not to lose my passport too", as I didn't find her suggestion very humorous at the time. And I will conclude this portion of the tale by saying I received a new temporary license at 4:15pm, 15 minutes before the DMV closed, and my photo resembles a raging lunatic. Seriously.

At about 5pm, I returned home and began packing for Christmas. I was sure to bring my temporary license, a copy of my unexpired insurance card, the thing to be notarized, and the court address, and once in RI I would find a notary and mail this all out.

Turns out, the court was expecting a check in there too. Who knew? I thought I paid that fee when I enrolled in defensive driving. But, no. I returned from Christmas to a letter from the court. It contained everything I sent them, and indicated I was missing a check. I was to write them a check, and send everything back to them. So I did that. And they received it on January 24th. At which point the clock starts. Ninety-days.

Shortly thereafter, a little thing called my dissertation took over my brain. And I had forgotten all about this ticket. It was in the back of my mind, a looming "to-do" list item. But, certainly not dire. I had 90 days. An eternity.

Except January flew by, and February came and went, and then March started slipping away. I lost sight of the timeline of anything but my latest dissertation draft. When all of a sudden, another happy notice appeared. Reminding me of my need to take and pass Defensive Driving. Failure to do so by April 24th could result in a warrant for my arrest. (over a SPEEDING TICKET, where I was going THIRTY miles an hour IN MY DRIVEWAY!) I giggled at the date. They could issue a warrant for my arrest on April 25th, if they didn't receive things by the 24th. April 25th, the day of my dissertation defense. Coincidence?!

So, naturally, I waited some more before taking the course. Because that dissertation draft was due soon, and I just needed to get this one more thing done. Finally, one Friday I sat down to start the online course, and they promised I would receive my certificate of completion within 20 days of passing the course. TWENTY DAYS? I'd left myself little over two weeks to get it all in to the court. So I sat through 6 grueling hours of boring drivers tips, and passed the final exam with a score of 100%. Here they promised to send it in the mail the following business day, and promised it would arrive in 20 days. Now, I know the mail in Austin isn't that slow, so I hoped it would arrive in time.

It arrived, and with a sigh of relief I went through the last hoop - ordering a driving record from the DoT. Which, oh Christ, could take up to TWO WEEKS to be delivered. At about this point in this whole ordeal I became angry. Angry at that stupid cop, angry at the school zone, angry at my misplaced license, angry at my angry new license picture, angry at the fees, angry at the boring drivers course, angry at this stupid driving record. Never once though, was I angry at myself for putting it off so damn long.

I was able to print out an official driving record, and I had everything ready to go. Except that, it was now one week before the deadline of April 24th. and dropping this silently into the mail seemed...irresponsible. What if it got lost, what if I never knew it was delivered, what if they showed up the morning of my defense to take me away in handcuffs? Would they at least sit there and wait for me to finish, so I could get charged as Dr. Jennifer "speeds in school zones" Pacheco? Because, if I need a criminal record for speeding into my driveway, I sure as hell want Ph.D. to follow my name.

I waited patiently until the post office was opened, and I mailed it certified mail. Which left me with a receipt of post-mark, and would give me delivery confirmation. Confirmation which I got this morning, April 21st. I will not be hauled away in cuffs from my defense. But, really, I kinda cut that one a little close.

Sadly, I think the moral of this story is - learn to question authority. Also, when stopping at a traffic light stop far enough away from the car in front of you so that you can see their tires connecting with the ground. According to the defensive driver's training, this leaves you with adequate space to maneuver around them if you'd like to change lanes at the last second!

Friday, April 01, 2011

what to expect when you're dissertating

I've had a few friends who have had babies, I've babysat for babies, I know enough about babies to know that most people really like this book. Now, I don't know if the What To Expect people have already written a book about dissertating, because frankly I didn't even consider googling that until this very moment. But, for the sake of this blog post, let's assume they haven't!

Someone should write the book What To Expect When You're Dissertating, because really, there are things I would have liked to have known. And, having never had a baby myself, there are things I suspect are very similar to being pregnant. Let's discuss.

The things I got used to months ago:

Dissertation brain - I have no ability to maintain a coherent thought outside of science. I frequently send a very similar email twice, sometimes three times, having forgotten I already sent it. I agree to things, and then instantly forget I've agreed to them (this is how I managed to be signed up for a road race I didn't really know about for a few weeks). It sounds just like bad memory, but as a memory expert I can say it's worse than that. Like the time I tried (several times in a row) to gain access to my car by flashing my school ID in the air near the door. Turns out, that move only really works at the building card-readers. Or that time that I drove a car full of prospective psychology students to my house instead of to their hotel. Luckily, they had no idea, being that none of them are from Austin!

Snackies - Frequently I miss lunch. Or dinner. It depends where and when I've become productive that day. And I find myself snacking, almost constantly, on ridiculously terrible snacks. Yesterday morning I think my breakfast was a poptart and a coke zero, and I think that's the healthiest I've been all week! I reached an all time low when I realized the fridge in my office had more food than my house, and I should stay here longer because I could eat a bagel for dinner rather than go home where I'd be forced to eat ice cream.

One Track Mind - When I do venture out and attempt participation in social events, everyone had better be ready to discuss one thing and one thing only. My dissertation. I am constantly updating people on the thing, how long it is, how many chapters are done, what the new title is, how many appendices it has at the moment, the latest comments I received on it, what my plan is for progress in the next day/week/month. I hear myself doing it, and I can't stop. There is nothing else in my mind to discuss, and I can't imagine that this isn't on the forefront of everyone's mind.

Here are the things I am still not used to:

Cleanliness, what's that?! - On a normal morning I do a few things regularly. I make my bed, I close my closet doors, and I generally make sure there aren't shoes and other crap strewn about my floor. I don't think my bed as been made in over a month. At the moment, in fact, I am sure that the comforter is balled up at the foot of the bed, and I'd be lucky if 2 of the 4 pillows were even at the head half of the bed. A purple rubbermaid bin of sweaters has been perched beside my bed for 5 weeks now, and I have a pile of dirty laundry exploding out of my closet so badly that I can't close the closet doors if I wanted to. But, that doesn't mean to indicate I've even tried doing so. I consider it a win when I get myself into the shower on an every-other-day schedule. And luckily, I don't have dishes to do because as I mentioned, I'm not really eating meals.

Holy Nightmares, Batman! - These have really done me in. I've had some doozies, and they range from terrifying: One involved me visiting my parents in Rhode Island, but we had to flee the state because people were lighting it on fire, and we were scurrying out past burning buildings, burning people, and lots of terrible devastation. To hilarious: One showcased a CEO of the Nike company who got very angry with a labmate of mine for enrolling him in a study that he didn't want to be in. I jumped in to help her out and he began yelling at me. At this point the very large angry CEO of Nike ripped my red external hard drive (with my dissertation data) from the computer, claiming the data now belonged to him. I've never been as strong or as mean as I was when I beat that guy to the ground to get my hard drive back! To absolutely insane: Last night all my friends that were in my dream were enormously obese. But, not like enormously obese versions of themselves. Just random, obese people. Everyone.

Sniffle, Sniffle - Is it cliche to say I'm more emotional? Perhaps. But it's not just that, it's not an overall emotionality, but rather completely irrational reactions to things. Sometimes, I'm just fine. But then sometimes, I might get stuck watching a show on lifetime about soldiers coming home to their families, and I might cry for an hour straight. I might cry so much that at the end of the hour I've got to change my t-shirt and towel off my stomach because it's covered in tears. maybe. There was also a time when I was watching Toddlers and Tiaras at 3 in the morning and listening to some wretched woman talk about entering her 2-year-old into a pageant because it was about time she learn how to be beautiful and a good wife. Normal people might react with rage towards that lady, I on the other hand found myself angry with my own mother for a moment. Why hadn't she taught me these things at the age of 2, because then maybe I wouldn't be lying awake at 3am watching toddlers and tiaras while stewing over my dissertation. Turns out, after a little sleep, I'm happy to not have been in pageants at the age of 2, Mom. So, thank you!

The good news is, one week from today that thing will be written and turned in. And I will probably forget about all the pain and suffering and whining and complaining I've done, as I look proudly down at my beautiful dissertation. All 124 pages of glory. Complete with 13 figures, 6 tables, and 4 Appendices. "Characterizing the age-related change of memory monitoring: Neuroimaging and genetic approaches" has never rolled off the tongue quite as sweetly as it will next week.

And after a (hopefully extensive) nap, I will be sending out a slew of Thank You cards, sent to all of you who have patiently listened to my endless whining, dramatic story telling, crying threats of quitting all together, and all the other ridiculous nonsense that has gone on. Really, I had no idea this would happen.