9.22.2010

Rachel:

I can't believe September is almost over. Looking outside, some trees are already nearly bare, yet it was in the upper 80's earlier this week.

It's been a month of transition and schedules. I was promoted into a new position at my company at the end of August. I'm still a financial counselor, but instead of working in a call center completely over the phone with 60 other counselors in a cubicle farm, I work in a cozy little office in Ann Arbor with three great coworkers. My drive is 15-20 minutes now, instead of the typical 50 minute commute I had before. And I'm part time, working anywhere from 20-30 hours weekly depending on appointments.

I also started my Graduate Assistant (GA) position, which is 10 hours a week. Currently, I'm helping with an honors intro to women's studies course, planning a retreat for the winter for scholars in different Women's & Gender Studies departments across the country, and helping out with a research project.

On top of this, classes started three weeks ago. Let me say this: 9 credit hours of grad school is not 9 credits of undergrad, especially when you are maintaining two part-time positions. I will also admit that there is more work and the work is harder than what I was expecting. It's true, it's a whole lot of theory and philosophy. And if you've ever read any serious feminist literature, it's full of (ridiculous) jargon, such as "othering," "utopic," gendernormativity"... and LOTS more.

Since my starting school, the apartment has fallen into greater chaos than usual. Anyone who knows Ian and I well understand that we're not neat freaks. While we're not what I would call 'dirty' people, we have and maintain a constant flow of clutter. I now have almost no time to help out with any cooking or dishes, let alone other household tasks. Poor Ian is taking on the role of househusband, but with a cheery disposition and a whole lot of love. I am forever grateful I married such a giving, kind man.

Ian:

All of September has been leading up to one big day: September 24th, which is the day I'm supposed to give a "brown bag" talk to my department. We call it that because it happens over lunch time. It'sa practice job talk, the kind we'll be expected to give if any of the departments to which we job-seekers apply like us enough during our interview to fly us out to their campuses.

I've given plenty of talks before, and had even given a version of the paper I'm going to present, but there's a special kind of fear that creeps in when it's your own department, the people you've spent years around but who have, in all likelihood, a minimal idea of the kind of work you do or whether you're any good. I've spent a good deal of the last 5 or so years around many of these people, but it still feels like I'm some kind of debutante (which I am: 6 years of school or no, I've yet no career to speak of).

Well, let's hope it goes well. It's still the calm before the storm: October 10 is the day that the big job posting hits and we all start feverishly scrambling to apply to as many places as possible. Until then, it's like preparing for a siege; ordering envelopes, polishing application materials, and hoping against hope that the market is not as dreary and despondent as the two years past. These things which I have no control over: why must they determine the whole course of my life?

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