one year
Damn blogger for being down. My rather rare impulse to post has been thwarted repeatedly over the last few days by a combination of fever, exhaustion, work, and blogger. One year and two days ago I submitted my thesis. It seems impossibly long ago, in so many ways, and just yesterday in others.
Application season is upon me, and I'd like to ask a perhaps overly reasonable question. Why do all of these institutions insist on slightly different versions of the same thing? For the past few days, I've been negotiating demands for "no more than a 2 page research proposal" and "four to six pages on your research." With "a single spaced page on your teaching interests" and "no more than three double spaced pages on your teaching interests, including two proposed courses for our perverse departmental requirements." Admittedly the departments and institutions demanding these things all want to feel special, but they ultimately all want the same damn thing - someone good, who will fit well. And all I'm saying, as I re-invent myself (and the wheel) over and over and over and over again, is "I'm good! Check me out! I'll fit well!" But the process is vastly over-complicated by the niggling differences between requirements, when the expectations are in fact identical. It's a bloody cottage industry, not a process. Not to mention "submit online," "submit 3 hard copies by post," and "submit online and 5 copies by post." These are post-docs, while the wheels of time turn closer to proper jobs, and some of them have an application fee, which I find utterly reprehensible. How _dare_ they ask 20 or 30 dollars of me for consideration? From the (disheartening) numbers they provide on the websites, these postdoctoral fellowships receive 400 or 1000 applications for 4 positions. There is no fucking way (pardon my French) that the 12,000 or 30,000 dollars in application fees is necessary to pay for the processing of these applications. Plus it's not as if the private institutions in question are in any way underfunded.
End rant. A year ago was the last time I was in love. Even in the midst of the craziness of finishing the degree, of applications, of working a shite job, I met someone at the worst possible time and it just worked. I miss that, terribly, as it seems it will continue to be the worst possible time for at least another year or so, yet this time there's a line I can't allow myself to cross. Or there's simply been nobody to cross it for. Normally I withdraw when up against the wall of stress, self-scrutiny, and deadlines. But I remember what it was to go through the process looking out, rather than in, and a large part of me laments the difference this year. "I'm moving to New York. And, oh yeah, I think we should end things." Ineptitude in the break up scene taken to spectacular new lows last November. And ludicrous drama with the woman in question a year ago today. Regrets. I tend to be opposed to them on general fucking principle, but they sneak in around the edges.
Application season is upon me, and I'd like to ask a perhaps overly reasonable question. Why do all of these institutions insist on slightly different versions of the same thing? For the past few days, I've been negotiating demands for "no more than a 2 page research proposal" and "four to six pages on your research." With "a single spaced page on your teaching interests" and "no more than three double spaced pages on your teaching interests, including two proposed courses for our perverse departmental requirements." Admittedly the departments and institutions demanding these things all want to feel special, but they ultimately all want the same damn thing - someone good, who will fit well. And all I'm saying, as I re-invent myself (and the wheel) over and over and over and over again, is "I'm good! Check me out! I'll fit well!" But the process is vastly over-complicated by the niggling differences between requirements, when the expectations are in fact identical. It's a bloody cottage industry, not a process. Not to mention "submit online," "submit 3 hard copies by post," and "submit online and 5 copies by post." These are post-docs, while the wheels of time turn closer to proper jobs, and some of them have an application fee, which I find utterly reprehensible. How _dare_ they ask 20 or 30 dollars of me for consideration? From the (disheartening) numbers they provide on the websites, these postdoctoral fellowships receive 400 or 1000 applications for 4 positions. There is no fucking way (pardon my French) that the 12,000 or 30,000 dollars in application fees is necessary to pay for the processing of these applications. Plus it's not as if the private institutions in question are in any way underfunded.
End rant. A year ago was the last time I was in love. Even in the midst of the craziness of finishing the degree, of applications, of working a shite job, I met someone at the worst possible time and it just worked. I miss that, terribly, as it seems it will continue to be the worst possible time for at least another year or so, yet this time there's a line I can't allow myself to cross. Or there's simply been nobody to cross it for. Normally I withdraw when up against the wall of stress, self-scrutiny, and deadlines. But I remember what it was to go through the process looking out, rather than in, and a large part of me laments the difference this year. "I'm moving to New York. And, oh yeah, I think we should end things." Ineptitude in the break up scene taken to spectacular new lows last November. And ludicrous drama with the woman in question a year ago today. Regrets. I tend to be opposed to them on general fucking principle, but they sneak in around the edges.
posted by itinerarium at 12:28 PM
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