The benefits of a hidey-hole

People sometimes say that (as far as they can tell) I don't get angry.  This is an untruth.  Earlier this year, I've been so impotently angry about rowing things that hot tears have flowed many a time.  Last week, I was angry at myself for getting into a bad situation with a friend of mine -- angry for letting it happen and for the fact that I couldn't do anything but face the music.  (No, I'm not going to go into specifics.  I half-promised something that I couldn't deliver on, and I hurt feelings in the process.)  Times like this, it's absolutely essential to have two things: a hidey-hole and some really good friends outside the situation.  By hidey-hole, I mean someplace small, dark, and remote such that you feel no one will ever find you.  A place where you disappear off the map.  Someplace that approximates the hole in the ground that is so often proverbially wished for.  I had one when I worked at Stanford for when people pissed me off, and I have found one in Cambridge.  It's very important, that hole.  It's a pocket outside the universe when I need it to be.  I'm not going to tell you where it is.

The other item is friends outside the situation.  This is not necessarily because I want to talk to them about it or get an 'obejective' opinion.  Sometimes, on the contrary, I want to hang out with people who have no idea about the snafu/cock-up/drama.  Their very obliviousness re-submerges me in a world where X didn't happen, which is a welcome reprieve.

I'm happy to report that the particular situation in question seems to be on its way to healing (touch wood!).  Meanwhile, I had a good weekend.  After a less-than-stellar bumps campaign, my crew went to London to row the Women's Head of the River Race (WeHoRR).  Here's a photo of us taken by someone on one of the bridges.  It's a long way to go (6.8K, ~5 miles), but it's not as bad as you think it will be, since you're going with the stream, and the venue is so epically big compared to the tiny Cam.  Everyone had a good time.

The next day, the chapel choir sang Fauré's Requiem for evensong, which was a special treat in honor of our director's having been at Trinity Hall for five years.  We'd put a bunch of extra rehearsal time into it, and we performed it well to a packed house.  Afterward, we all got very drunk.  While it was a fun night, it sounds like the rooms of the two organ scholars were left in a state that could set up another rendition of 'The Hangover'.  Here's part of the email sent by the senior organ scholar to all of us the next day:

"My laptop keyboard is covered in nutella.
My sofa is covered in gin.
My floor is covered in biscuit.
My tie is covered in wine.
My JOS's door is sad."  [Apparently someone put his foot through it.]

Hilarity for all.  But it seems I also may have left some of my dignity behind in the carnage, and tonight's rehearsal will be an interesting test of how much I will have the piss taken out of me [= be mocked mercilessly] for the rest of the year.  Trinity Hall is a very small place, in ways both good and bad.  I don't think it's that good for undergraduates, because there is absolutely no escape from any eyebrow-raising behavior.  The chapel choir is even smaller, and you have to have good armor around your embarrassment bone if you dare do anything foolish around them -- or even if you don't, they do love imagining a good story into things that might actually be innocuous.  Sigh.  It may be time for that hidey-hole again...but hopefully not.

The other side of aspiration

As a student, maybe even as a human being generally, you tend to spend a lot of your time looking up at other people.  Without being overly humble, I think it's safe to say that most people are aware of being inferior in ability or passion to someone in any given activity.  This year, I've been trying to come to terms with the flip side of aspiration -- that is, being the supposed expert at (some) things academic, social, and athletic.

Academic-wise, people starting their grad work see that I'm a third-year PhD and assume I've got everything sorted out.  Compared to where I started, that's actually kind of true, but there's still a lot to sort out.  My supervisor (did I mention I got a new one?) wants me to outline exactly what chunks are left to fill in, but it's tricky because I haven't been writing each chapter in sequence -- rather, I add incrementally to all of them as I go.  Added to that, I need to go back to The Poems of Tennyson (~650 pages x 3 volumes) and read through them again now that I know what I'm looking for.  When do I have time to do that, exactly?  Oh, and I need to publish to have any hope of a job, but there's no time for that, either... Sigh.  But at least the dissertation does have a shape, and I do know more or less what I'm looking for now.  As for social things, I kind of get how things run in college and the faculty now, so I occasionally doll out advice.

But what really has been on my mind is the baffling position of being an advanced person in athletics.  I came to Cambridge never having rowed, and to be honest I was pretty gimpy at it for a while.  Now, because of how quickly the population turns over in our small college, I'm in a position of some authority.  I never dreamed I would actually be the women's captain.  My first year, the club did amazingly well in bumps, and I regarded those above me (W1, the captains) with awe and admiration.  Yet simply by continually turning up for two years, here I am.  I've become a relative (relative!) expert in our club in terms of technique and, more importantly, mental attitude.

The crew I chose for W1 this term is mostly pretty inexperienced; given how recently most of them learned, we've come along well -- but they don't seem to understand that first boat means grim determination.  True grit.  Give it everything, and then give a bit more because the cox tells you to.  I'm accustomed to working my guts out and then still getting moved down a boat because there are others who are bigger/stronger/better.  Now when I talk to Martin (our coach), he talks about me as one of the few who are really good.  That feels good in one way, but also somewhat worrying.  My general approach in most areas is, "If I can do it, anyone can" -- but I have to remind myself that in fact I'm not the appropriate gauge for beginners anymore.  :)

Thirty years and maybe a little wisdom

Earlier this week, I celebrated my thirtieth birthday.  I confess I had sort of lost track of its approach, despite having ambitions last term to turn it into a big whoop-de-doo.  Last year was possibly my best birthday party ever because I got all my MCR friends together for dinner and proceeded to cocktail night afterward, where we got drunk and silly together and generally had a grand old time.  This year, I took my cue from that to plan a night with friends.

The evening was considerably calmer this time, but it was still a winner.  Dinner with some folks, a stop at a couple pubs with others, and then back home -- where a small group raided kitchens for wine and we sat talking until 5am in the dim lights of the common room with rain falling into the garden outside.  I got almost no sleep, because I had to be up for training the next day; as Gilbert & Sullivan put it, "Duty, duty must be done, the rule applies to everyone; and painful though that duty be, to shirk the task were fiddle-de-dee."  But it was totally worth it.

"So," people keep asking me, "how does it feel?  What wisdom do you have to share?"  I more or less laughed off these questions, because the difference from one day to another is not that substantial, and therefore January 30th felt very much like January 29th, and age 30 thus far is not strikingly different from age 29.  However, lately I've been thinking that somewhere along the way I've acquired some wisdom after all.  Without going into detail, a close friend (a current undergrad) is having something of a crisis in her personal life, and since I was peripherally involved in the situation she and I have been talking about it a lot in the past few days.  Although it's a thorny and uncomfortable situation, I find that at this age I know -- not just intellectually but in my bones -- that things like this happen, that it's part of the complicated mess of trying to muddle through life with the best intentions, and that it will all work out one way or another as long as everyone means well.  Understanding that, and the corollary that we have to empathize with people in their tight spots, feels like wisdom worth having.  And I'm so much more confident and comfortable in my own skin now than I was at 20 that I'd say the decade bodes well.

New Year's Resolutions

I've never really participated in the tradition of New Year's resolutions.  For one thing, I think you should make resolutions at any time you think you need them.  For another, the societal expectation is that you'll fail at them, so perversely it seems to be actually a list of things you half-heartedly wish you would do better but know you won't.  Nonetheless, I do have a few items this year.

WHEREAS I am in the third year of my PhD, and

WHEREAS extensive delay in completion of my degree would be detrimental to both my professional progress and my financial situation, and

WHEREAS I participate in an unusually high number of activities, which situation requires efficiency of effort for me to continue in them all,

THEREFORE BE IT RESOLVED

• that I will submit my dissertation within the calendar year 2013;
• that I will reply to emails promptly, even if the situation is delicate and/or I am afraid of a negative response to my message;
• that I will not torture myself about situations beyond my control, be they personal relationships or rowing arrangements.

In keeping with these resolutions, I will save my report on Christmas/New Year's for another post.  But here's a picture of where I spent New Year's Day(!!!)

Useful words

There are plenty of lists out there of British vs. American terms for things, and I don't intend to duplicate them.  While I haven't bothered to pick up a fake accent, when in my second home I do say 'queue' instead of 'line' and 'cycling' rather than 'biking', and even 'fancy dress' for 'costume'.  Not to mention that I'll probably be really confused if I ever try to row in my native land, because I hear the terminology is different in that arena, too.  But in any case, there are also some very useful words I've learned in the UK that don't seem to have exact equivalents in American English.  They're so useful, I keep employing them when home, to the mild confusion and amusement of those around me.

Faff

This is the most useful word effver.  It means general fuss and effort that is kind of necessary but annoyingly holds you up in trying to do what you actually want to do.  For example, when you just want to get rowing and someone spends ages taking off their shoes, stuffing their jacket in the dry bin, and adjusting their seat -- that's faff.

Banter

Yes, we sort of have this in the U.S., but we use it more narrowly, for lighthearted back-and-forth talking.  Amongst my Cambridge friends, it means this too, but more generally, having good banter also means having good chat; being a pleasant and interesting companion for an evening, especially an alcoholic evening.

Lurgy

According to the OED, 'Usu. in phr. the dreaded lurgy . A fictitious, highly infectious disease.'  This was apparently coined by a radio program in the 1950s, but I've heard it used to remark on one's general malaise and feeling icky.

Kit
Athletic clothing, especially if decorated with your team's name (aka stash).  I have acquired an increasing amount of black and white rowing kit, and a fair amount of Trinity Hall or other Cambridge stash.

Keen
Yes, Americans know what this means, but it's in abundant use for eager/interested/enthusiastic/supportive/involved.

Now if only I could conjure more useful words to go into the conference paper I'm writing.  Ages and ages ago, I submitted a proposal to talk on a panel about W.S. Gilbert (as in Gilbert & Sullivan); the first time, my paper was accepted but the panel didn't make it into the conference.  A year later, the panel was guaranteed to happen, but I had to re-submit my proposal in case someone else had come up with a better idea in the meantime.  After acceptance #2, I've had six months to anticipate speaking at the MLA, the biggest conference in the humanities.  Here I am in the program:

It's an amazing opportunity.  And I truly have nothing original to say on the topic I proposed.  Seriously, it has all been covered.  Heh.  Well, with any luck, few people will come to the panel, and the other papers will get all the questions, and I'll escape with a nice line on my CV.  But I have a knack for getting a lot of questions...  I've found a perfect, hidden cubicle in the basement of the Stanford music library, and it's dead silent (finals just finished) and lacking all distractions.  If ever I could work anywhere, this should be it.  Wish me luck!

Michaelmas term 2012

I'm so sorry that I've neglected this blog for the entire term.  To be honest, it wasn't a good eight weeks, though there were bright spots along the way.  Rowing proved extremely frustrating as people dropped out or wouldn't commit to the training, and I spent so much time trying to hold it together that I did essentially no work on my PhD.  But let's move on to the good stuff:

Talking at the 19th Century Seminar

The English faculty has a guest speaker every other week, and occasionally they fill the spot with a third-year grad student.  I gave a paper that was basically the best of everything I've done so far, combined into a 45-minute talk.  I got a lot of questions, and while I didn't answer them especially well, people were clearly interested in the topic, so yay.  Here's me listed in the course bulletin:

Christmas grad hall dinner

Cam-mas/Bridgemas

The joking term for the Christmas that happens in Cambridge about a month too early.  The chapel choir sang its two carol services, the MCR had its annual Christmas dinner, and things were generally festive.  You know how people have those miniature Christmas villages they put on tables as decoration?  I want a miniature Cambridge, but it doesn't seem to exist according to my Google searching.  This could be my big money-making scheme...  Anyone good at ceramics?

Boat Club Dinner

After a crummy term, I wasn't necessarily looking forward to BCD, but it turned out to be one of the best evenings I had.  Being captain finally paid off as I got to sit at the fun table with some favorite alumni, give a speech, read fines, and generally feel loved and appreciated.

Me and my co-captain

Trip to Warsaw

My rowing friend Marta, who did her MPhil last year, emailed in November to say that there were cheap flights to Warsaw at the end of term, and would I like to come visit?  So I said yes!  Another boatie and I hopped over for a few days to gorge ourselves on potato-based foods and enjoy the Christmas lights.  Sadly, I've managed to leave my camera cable behind, so I'll have to share pictures later.

...And now I'm back home, pushing my way through a cold that is in no way surprising after weeks of not enough sleep and a lot of stress.  The only wonder is that it took so long to strike.  I'm trying to wipe the mental slate clean so I can start next term refreshed and cheerful like the Sarah of old.

Rowing and freshers

The new academic year is upon us.  I've been completely MIA to my family and non-Cambridge friends as I first spent a week rowing twice a day (see blistered hands, left and right) then a week welcoming all the new grads to Trinity Hall and trying to recruit freshers of every level to try rowing.  Practical results:

• Drank a bit much on Saturday (MCR welcome drinks), Wednesday (boat club cocktails followed by MCR fun), Saturday (MCR cocktail night), and Sunday (first evensong of the year, yay choir friends!)
• Didn't sleep nearly enough
• Hundreds of emails sent and received
• Did ZERO work
• At least three fits of exhausted sobbing, mostly over organizing boat club stuff
• Now have a sore throat

But the thing is, it's all completely worth it.  I admit, it's becoming more difficult to work up the enthusiasm for new people since they come and go so quickly, and I'm realizing that the ones worth knowing will continue to be around; a blitzkrieg of friend-making probably isn't necessary.  Nonetheless, a week of sociality is never a bad thing.  And the weather has been glorious for the most part.

Being women's captain has proved every bit as stressful as I'd feared, but I'm fortunate to be surrounded by people with better strategizing skills who loyally help me.  Adding to my discomfort (both emotional and physical), I have switched to rowing stroke side (blade on my right, not my left).  This feels odd, but it was necessary, and it's becoming more natural.  But the best thing about rowing lately is that we were honored by a visit from Tom James, who was an undergrad at Tit Hall not so long ago and just won his second gold medal in rowing.  See here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/sport/0/olympics/18911517 (he's sitting at the 3 seat with the cap and sunglasses).  He brought both medals and passed them around, and he hung out for the afternoon chatting with everyone.  AWESOME.  He also gave a little speech, and I was struck by the fact that when he rowed for Cambridge, he lost three out of four boat races against Oxford.  It just goes to show that a) results don't tell the whole story, and b) rowing is truly a team sport.  No individual can win a race for everyone else.