The Morning After The Day Before

Although I had topped up both my UK and Belgian phones in anticipation of the post-viva communication flux, I hadn't quite forseen the 63 text messages and 5 incoming roaming calls that required a response and both phones ran out of credit rather more quickly than I had anticipated. I appologise profusely to those of you whom I didn't manage to reply to yesterday evening with the outcome of my viva. But I shall make you wait no longer... Pew has indeed been awarded "doctorandus" status after 4 gruelling hours of inquisition *grin*

The whole ordeal hasn't quite sunk in yet. Instead of a wild night of celebrating, I crash-landed on my mates' bed around midnight, after a few beers that went straight to my head. The fact that I'd only managed to get down one toast all day probably didn't help. After a few hours of feverish sleep, I found myself awake at 4a.m. physically sobbing for a good half hour. It's all rather pathetic, but I suspect the stress had really gotten to me rather a lot more than I was aware of.

Though the relief is tremendous, I can honestly say that this PhD viva is one of the more traumatic experiences in my life so far. I had planned to write a humoristic account of the whole procedure, but I simply can't get myself to do so at this point just yet. While the viva process might be considered a "formality" procedure, the fact of the matter is that when you're locked into a room with two interrogators, formality or not, you have to live up to the standard of degree you're about to be rewarded and swallow any criticism (positive or negative) these people choose to dish out.

I can count myself lucky with two examiners who had a genuine interest in the subject matter but it inevitably meant they'd combed through my thesis in an extensively detailed fashion. While they repeatedly pointed out to me that I'd managed to achieve a tremendous amount of work and that they considered the work to be of an excellent standard of which I should be proud, I found it hard to take that on board while I was sat there trying to bounce back all the challenges they threw my way. It is ridiculously hard to think on your feet for four whole hours. Especially if one examiner is a physicist and the other's a physiologist and both are keen to test your knowledge on their respective fields to the limit.

I was offered a cookie by one of them at one point because I apparently looked like I was about to pass out. I sure felt like I was going to, but declined the cookie all the same for fear of not being able to hold it down. I'm sure with enough therapy I'll come to terms with the inevitable aggressive nature of the viva line of questioning and my own insecurities related to it all ;-)

There is, however, one particular incident during the whole ordeal, which makes me feel all riled up thinking back on it now. I don't deal well with imposed authority at the best of times, but a viva puts you in this incredibly vulnerable superior-inferior position: you need to do your best to defend your own viewpoint but ensure not to cross your examiners. So inevitably, out of politeness, you swallow a few comments which you normally wouldn't let someone get away with. At one point, one of my examiners pointed out a spelling mistake in what I consider to be a rather derisory way and as most of you are aware, I'm particularly touchy about this type of stuff. I am all up for constructive criticism when it comes to my use of the English language, but I had to do my very best to stop the stroppy rebellious foreigner in me from shouting: "I'd like to see you write a 37,000 word thesis in a language that's not your own and see you succeed with a mere three spelling mistakes, you effin' wanker." Of course I didn't shout *grin*. And the guy most definitely doesn't deserve the label wanker, because both of my examiners were actually top blokes who strangely managed to combine the sort of "I'm pushing you in a corner now, but I'm still smiling at you nicely to put you at ease" type of attitudes. Once my stress-levels have resettled I'm sure I'll realise that the spelling comment wasn't meant in a derisory fashion at all. But part of me wishes I had stood up and shouted "wanker" or "twat" at no one in particular every now and then. It would certainly have released some tension. People with Tourettes must thrive at vivas, what with the repeated excusable release of frustration by expletives *grin*

RAAAAAH

Anyway, I need to get the built-up energy out of my system today. The shedule as it stands starts off with a Champagne drink in the lab courtesy of Steve, who'd been so thoughtful as to put Champagne on ice in case of a good outcome, but had equally stashed a bottle of Jagermeister in his drawer in case of a bad outcome. Thinking like a true mate there, bud ;-)
Then there's a wee goodbye lunch with my prof, which will be sad because I have really enjoyed working with him. And then I have to hand in my key-fob, which will mark the defo ending of my time here at the PGM. I'm driving straight to Manchester afterwards to meet an old friend and to beat off the blues.

Good times gone past, good times just around the corner.

(PS: I will have to post a wee pic sometime this week of the lil prezzie that Disco had made for me. It's particularly fitting)

Viva Voce

Well folks, that's it. My bag is packed. Come tomorrow, I'm off across the channel to go defend that PhD thesis on Wednesday-afternoon. I suspect I won't have internet access until a while after the actual viva, so here's to hoping the next blogpost comes to you written by Doctor Pew rather than by Gutted Pew. Fingers crossed.

Morituri Te Salutent!

Sympathy Stress

I can tell by my web-statistics that my dad has sympathy-stress about my impending viva. So erm: dear Dad... I'm OK, really. It's all going to be OK. But thanks for watching over me so closely ;-)

Luv ya! ;-)

AaAaAaAaAaAaAaAaAaAaRgH!!!

Humidity

It figures that I would have to start prepping my viva in the midst of a full-fledged heatwave. With expected local temperatures in the mid-to-high thirties over the next four days and a relative humidity of 80% you can imagine how overjoyed I am at the prospect.

Thankfully, Flatland is blessed with a tendency for thunderstorms and we've had one last night as well as this morning, which brings temporary relief. All the windows of the house are open, I'm sat at my desk in my undies, I've a spraybottle of water and a large bottle of Vittel at the ready. I'm now looking to hire a few midgets to stand on my desk flapping a few sheets of paper in my direction as a form of lo-cost airco. The real stuff only ever makes me ill. For applications, please use the "comments" section.

Viva Date Confirmed

Well guys, this is it... I have officially transgressed into flap-mode. Just a few hours ago, my viva date was confirmed as Wednesday July 26th, at 2pm. I will make my way up to Belgium tomorrow to commence a week of hard graft study and nervousness, after which I shall haul ass to the UK to face the inquistion squad.

I have funny tales to recount about the Vienna/Bratislava endeavour and shall of course divulge them when the need for procrastination deems fit to break through the sense of duty.

In the meantime, wish me luck with the epic trek home tomorrow, as I am once again ill and shall be caged into a sweltering lil car in the heatwave for ten whole gruelling hours.

Who says scientists are geeks huh??

Heroic

I'm so glad I have friends that keep me entertained with highly appropriate lil quirky things now that I'm so near to my deadline... It's incredibly motivating :-) A very big "FANKS!!!" has to out to Ann for this one:

Heroic Computer Dies to Save World from Master's Thesis


I especially like the part that says the department staff and faculty will hold a ceremony to award the dead laptop a Purple Hard Drive... an award traditionally given to computers that die at least 100 pages into a dangerously boring thesis. Excellent stuff ;p

Tho may I just add that I hope MY laptop isn't quite that brave. On that note... I'm off to make a final back up ;-)

Interim Post

It's been a while, I know. I do appologise. It's proper crunchtime what with aiming to hand in the FINAL version of the thesis on Monday... I have a few pictures to post and some anecdotes to mention, but it'll all have to wait till next week. In the meantime, I shall leave you with a comment found on a university departmental webpage of a Physics Group (thanks to Od for telling me about this one!) :

"Theory is when you know how it works but it still doesn't. Practice is when it works but you don't know why. In this Department, theory and practice are joined together: nothing works and no one knows why."

I think I might try and apply for my next job there. Will fit right in! ;-)

Burocracy... or should that be pedantic procrastination?

I received an important looking letter in the mail this morning, stamped with the university seal. I was absolutely bricking it when tearing it open, dreadful doom-scenarios of scientific inquiries already unfolding in front of my eyes. But here's what it said (click for larger image):


So... not only did it take a Research Committee (3 people!!!) to accept the title, but also an Administrator to type out the letter of warning, a priority seal and envelop AND the services of the Royal Mail, JUST to let me know my title has been approved. Wonder how long it will take them to approve the other 27,183 words?? I'm thinking I'm gonna be here a while yet.

Meanwhile I'm itching to request an alteration of the starting-letter of each word into upper case. Just for fun.

Meh

I sent my thesis out to my supervisor a little over an hour ago. And I'm not too sure how I feel now. I've been sort of looking around for things to do. Of the 1001 plans made during write up for the sweet days of freedom to come, I can't remember any. It's almost as if my body is still in stress mode, subconciously telling me: "must sit at desk, must type, must reference, must finish". But there's nothing more to do but wait for feedback.

It's ironic how one can find millions of reasons for procrastination when under pressure, yet when pressure evaporates suddenly you're stuck for things to occupy yourself with.

Maybe I should go learn a language or something. Enroll in a new degree. Or something.

I'm sure this vaccuum will soon be replaced by sheer elation. When that moment hits, some of you should make sure to be ready to be dragged out for a giant bender. I could do with a pint. Or six.

So True

ADVISORY WARNING!! Parents to PhD-ing children may chose not to read the following blog.

A research group at Darthmouth University has established that the brain does not reach full maturity until the age of about 26. They were able to demonstrate that between the ages of 18 and the mid-twenties, the brain still undergoes some substantial changes in the regions responsible for the integration of emotion and cognition. The experiences you live through in those formative years, such as failed first relationships, time away at university, being broke, earning your first paycheque etc... play crucial roles in shaping your brain into its mature form.

So technically, dear mum&dad, the past few years of Sarah-wobblers were fully justified. They were not indicative of failed parenting skills on your behalf. Nor were they signs you've given birth to an emotionally challenged child. I was officially just being a regular wobbly twenty-something on her steep emotional learning curve.

*awkward cough* Question though... *nervously scrapes chin*

IF one's experiences in the early twenties actually shape and prep the brain for "maturity" by the age of 26... what is to become of the PhD-ing individual? Those of us who don't actually make it into the big wide world before maturity is reached? Shall we just start accepting the fact that I have missed the maturity deadline and will forever be stuck on Hollyoaks Sundays, hooded sweaters, twenty daily leisurely breaks on campus and overall very wobbly student-esque behavior??


- click on image for enlarged version -

PS: I do actually have more worthy blogstuff, but VERY little time to faff about, what with being a student and all so erm... bare with me. Proper blogging to be continued. Someday soon. Maybe when I finally graduate. Or not, if Darthmouth is right.

Proud of my day

Acceptance is the First Step

I make the world's worst coffee.

Too Much of a Good Thing

Thanks to Phil for pointing this one out to me:


Scientific Brain Linked to Autism

"Highly analytical couples, such as scientists, may be more likely to produce children with autism, an expert has argued. Professor Simon Baron-Cohen, of the University of Cambridge, said the phenomenon may help explain the recent rise in diagnoses.

Professor Baron-Cohen labels people such as scientists, mathematicians and engineers as 'systemizers'. They are skilled at analysing systems to figure out how they work. But they also tend to be less interested in the social side of life, and can exhibit behaviour such as an obsession with detail - classic traits associated with autism. Brain scan studies have also shown that mothers of autistic children often show patterns of brain activity more associated with men.

Professor Baron-Cohen said the rise in autism may be linked to the fact that it has become easier for systemizers to meet each other, with the advent of international conferences, greater job opportunities and more women working in these fields."

HA!

I particularly like how they portray international conferences as "mixers" for the autistic gene pool. Don't we just know it :(

Warped time & Misguided Design

Meh.

You know those days where you're just too damn close-up on the work you've been doing? When you lose grasp on what has been done and what still needs doing? I just spent the entire morning "regrouping" with myself. In Le Pew terms this normally means lots of shedules, color-coordinated agendas and puzzling. But it turns out I COMPLETELY miscounted the days left till hand in. February 15th is NOT as I assumed (for reasons beyond my grasp), a weekend, but rather a Wednesday *curses*. Anyway... Instead of my usual battle approach, I've simply drawn up a wee list of things that still need to be done, and rather than meticulously plan my next 20 days, I will simply work my way down this list and hope it is finished by the 15th. Fingers crossed.

Oh. And did y'all know today is a Friday?!?!


On an entirely different note, BBC2 aired an excellent documentary on Intelligent Design vs. Darwinian Evolution. I suspect others will comment on this documentary rather more intelligibly than I at this point am capable of, but a few comments struck me which I feel warrant a mention.

"Intelligent Design is a movement on behalf of religion which is going to destroy both science & religion" - By Rev.Coyden on how ID supporters manipulate religious leaders (such as Austrian Cardinal Shonbron) into speaking in their favour, while the Church has clearly issued a statement that Darwinism is not incompatible with the Christian Faith.

"One has yet to demonstrate a failing of the Darwinistic Theory. When we are unable to explain something, or when we don't understand something, it simply means we don't know yet. But this in itself is cannot be used as proof for a "Creator". You then transgress from the objective realm of science into the subjective." - Sir David Attenborough

I had planned on including something I read by Stuart Kauffman on the mathemtical probability issue of "chance events" which was discussed in the documentary, but someone smuggled my copy of his book into Rome and it has since not been seen. *thief!*

Onset of Insanity

I don't know if any of you used to watch "Chicago Hope", but those of you who did... remember Dr.Jerry Geiger? The surgeon who used to walk around his office in his undies, because his trousers "made too much noise to think" when pacing around?


Well... The dude was right!! Pacing to think, which incidentally I have been doing a lot of lately, is ridiculously ineffective when trousers are so incredibly noisy!!

And, before you ask, yes I am sat in my girlboxers as I write this and no I don't remember what my point was really.

PhD-itis

With the deadline for my thesis hand-in a mere 4 weeks (to the day) away, I've transformed into a right li'l monster. I've taken to growling, barking & biting at everyone who strays into my path (there's a very unfortunate plumber somewhere missing a chunk of his pen since yesterday, just cuz he took a whole precious ten minutes to write up a receipt *cough*). I've also taken to eating my dinners at my desk and carry paper & pen around with me even when I go to the loo, just in case inspiration decides to blindside me. I can't be bothered with perfume and after my morning shower, I hop right back into my favorite scruffs for sheer comfort.

Unfortunately, I also no longer have the time nor the energy to style my new hairdo. So once it's shampoo-ed & rinsed it's left to fend for itself. Which... well, has kind of reduced me to an angry monchichi look-a-like (Remember those??? Unfashionably hip scruffy foreward bangs and general wildness??)



To top it all, here's a nice little conundrum for the displacement-activity needy amongst you:

Input: Pizza, mac&cheese, chocolate, coffee, diet coke
Outome: 1.5 kg weightloss on the scales
Where's the missing matter gone???

(Imagine the following printed upsidedown, as if in real puzzle books) Answer: Effin' STRESS, THAT's where it's gone!!! Long live Academia!

Too much of a good thing.

A little over two months ago, my mum brought back a Redken "protein hair-treatment". Her hairdresser had suggested she'd use it every 4 days and since I have a tendency to steal intriguing products brought home by others, I too have been "protein treating" my hair every 4 days for the past 2 months or so.

Until yesterday that is... when mum notified me of the fact that she'd misheard her hairdresser and that the treatment was only to be used every 4 WEEKS. Said hairdresser apparently panicked: "That's powerfull stuff you got there m'am, you haven't really been using it every 4 days, have you?!"

*Loud Cough* erm... I'm afraid we have.

This MITE explain why my hair grew so ridiculously fast and why I've had to fork out on another haircut today, a mere 7 weeks after my last one. Good Stuff!

Light Relief

My copy of "How to Survive your Viva" by Rowena Murray arrived in the mail today. I decided to order it two weeks ago, after that rather bizarre Albus Dumbledore meets PhD nightmare.

Am off to Vienna for a week tomorrow, so it arrived at just the right time: light relief airplane reading. Perfect. Combines my two worst fears: prepping for public speaking whilst suspended mid air at 30,000feet. Can hardly wait.