My supervisor is leaving!

This week I have experienced the emotional highs and lows that result from finding out that your supervisor is leaving you. It is official. One year into my PhD, and my supervisor is leaving the country.

A rumour from a fellow student with less to lose than I induced the reaction he was looking for.

"What?!! Head-hunted overseas?!!" Shock (and excitement?) tickled my toes. Later, I confronted my supervisor with this news, and was displeased with his dismissive response. For the week since, I have been waiting in tense anticipation to find out whether or not he has decided to leave and whether or not the lab will break up.

I can appreciate the reasoning for the level of secrecy, but that doesn't stop the anger from building up inside me. I am angry that I have to hold on to this information alone, with no outlet or room for discussion, and no indication of whether or not he will ever reveal his decision.

This week, he has decided to break the news to us, gently. Too gently for my liking. Since stumbling upon his secret, I have imagined an embarrassed but firm announcement during lab meeting, or a sudden call to his office for him to explain to us all that this lab is no longer.

Instead, he has decided to inform us one by one. One person a day. In private, in secret, and with strict instructions not to tell anyone else. Presumably he informed us in order of importance, or perhaps reverse order of impact that this news will cause:

Monday. The postdoc who has just joined us and who is on a temporary contract anyway. She'll be easy, why would she care?
Tuesday: His Research Technician. The girl who runs the lab and who is (was?) imminently about to start her PhD here.
Wednesday-Thursday: everyone is looking around quietly to see who else knows.
Friday: the most recently commenced PhD student.

Right, that's it. Everyone knows! He passes me in the hallway.

"Oh Lucy, yes, I have decided, and have talked to everyone now, I AM leaving."

I feel like a jilted lover. I feel like I deserved my own private meeting where I was properly informed of his decision, rather than his casual admission in the hallway for anyone to hear. We'll talk on Monday apparently, and decide what to do then.

Maybe I will emerge on the other side of the weekend in a more stable mindset. Only the Monday meeting will tell.

 

 

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Just make up your mind already!

What's the worse thing you can imagine happening to you during you PhD?

In the scheme of the universe, nothing is that bad. But in the scheme of my own PhD life, the worse thing that can happen is about to happen to me.

My supervisors are moving overseas and the lab is breaking up. Well, so he thinks, he hasn't quite decided yet. He's taking his own sweet time about it. 3 months sweet time in fact. Of course, by some weird turn of events, I'm the only person who knows this, and I'm not supposed to tell anyone. Oh, and I forgot to mention, advisory supervisor is leaving also. But "shhhh, keep this to yourself," they both say.

A rumour is what started this all. For one entire week I have held onto this knowledge. Only today did I confront my supervisor with this query. "Is it true?"

His face reddened, so did mine, and we stumbled over a conversation that I regretted starting. Only that I have every right to do so.

"There are more important people who need to know about this first," he says, in a 'mind your own business' kind of voice. Clearly this is my business. Previously high on my respect list, he drops well below average.

He lists a few assumptions about my life and what I will and will not want to do if he leaves. (House, boyfriend etc.)  Respect drops even further.

"Don't lose any sleep over it, don't tell anyone, and I'll probably have made up my mind by the end of next week," clearly an arbitrary date pulled out of his confused mind.

He needs help deciding what to do with his life. I tried to help him out: "Don't worry about me, I'll find other options" Secretly, I'm loving the opportunity for change. I'm going to be disappointed if he stays.

Just made up your mind already!

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Buying a house on a PhD scholarship

I recently became one of those struggling 'first home buyers' that you hear about during the financial news.

Along with brushing my own hair, then going to the 'big' school, then learning algebra, then starting a PhD,... this is something that I thought far distant in the future and completely unobtainable by little me.

So, I've bought my first house way earlier than I ever expected. This time last 6 months ago, I barely understood what a mortgage was, let alone was paying one off from my meagre PhD scholarship.

Obviously I didn't do this alone. Whilst my partner in housing crime can potentially earn far more $$ than I can ever dream, at least I have the self satisfaction of knowing my contribution to the house deposit and mortgage is as equal to his. At least at this point in time, whilst he also struggles to finish his doctorate. Anyway, two PhD scholarships are better than one.

From someone who's never had an overdraft, it's a bit disconcerting to look at your bank account and see -$x00,000 glaring at you, with it's nasty little red bolded font. For someone who has previously spent little on everyday life in favour of randomly heading overseas every year, this is a big commitment. "Want to go to the Galapagos Islands?" says my travel buddy. I feel overwhelmed with a sense of forced 'adultness' that I have never previously experienced. Computer says no. :-(

But during this teething phase, whilst I'm getting used to the constant outward flow of funds from my bank account, and the knowledge that we can't just 'call the landlord' when the shower starts leaking, I'm obviously thrilled with this turn my life has taken.

However, I'm fearful of mentioning my big news to others, as I'm often met with the same response: "You guys are settling down! Are you going to start a family soon?"

As far as I can see, there seems to be several advantages for buying a house during your PhD (none of which include having a baby as that would surely not reap any financial gain or stress relief). For anyone who can manage to pull together a sufficient house deposit, then these are some reasons that you should do it:

1. As an investment. You're obviously not earning enough to save during your PhD, you're probably not earning any superannuation/pension, so consider these 4 years of study as wasted time in the progression towards financial stability. Buying a house means that you're actually investing in something.

2. You have to start early in the house buying game. The earlier you start, the easier it will be later on. What first home buyer can afford to live in a flash suburb? If you wait too long, it's going to be so much more difficult to live in the grottier suburbs where you can afford to buy.

3. Because a PhD scholarship is tax free (well it is here in New Zealand) you earn more than you think. You also appear at least semi-intelligent and responsible. This makes it easier to get pre-approval for a home loan from the bank.

4. You're used to budgeting and possibly living a bit 'rough' if necessary.

5. You want things to be easier later on. If you finish your PhD hating life, then you can sell up and travel the world if you really want to.

6. Perhaps most importantly, it's fun! When your PhD isn't progressing as you'd like, you can think about home decor, gardening, or pet chickens to take your mind off it.

Perhaps I'm in a fortunate position. But I'm not well-off by any means and I didn't realise until now that this was possible.

Here's a good website to get you sorted.

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Welcome to the real world

Today I ventured in the 'real world'. This magical wonderland outside the rhelm of a university, where people make fun of 'science geeks', do not make 'jokes' about computer parts, and expect things to be done on time. Yes, I'm venturing into the world of retail employment, albeit in the semi-scientific form of optical dispensing.

All this is necessary of course because it is in fact rather difficult to live comfortably on a PhD scholarship. ASB's 'track my spending' spells out in a scientific language familiar to me that 'money in'  < 'money out. Hence the need for supplementary income. Whether I have the time for this remains to be seen!

Anyway... from my vantage point as 'the new girl' I was mostly excluded from cliquey humour (not IT-related) between the other employees  that I did not understand, and so was able to make some important observations.

There are many. The pace is faster when customers are in, but slower when not. 'Women's Day' litters the room, and there's no reason to feel guilty for not reading a 'Nature' article when times are slow. Where's the open plan office and my own personal computer? In the real world, there's no reason to be 'researching the internet'. No matter how busy the place gets, I'm not sure I'll ever feel like I'm truly 'working' when I haven't sat at a computer and forced some knowledge into my brain.

'Someone tells me that you're the bright girl,' says one optometrist, whilst my new peers listen on.

'You're going to find this a piece of cake then!'

Embarrassed, I mumble something unconvincing like 'oh no, there's so much to remember'.

Nothing helps one settle into a new environment more than alienating one's peers with talk of 'neurons', 'microscopes' and 'proteins'.

Don't look at me like that, I know nothing. I don't I know how to deal with an angry patient, let alone whilst the phone is ringing in several locations and others are waiting to be served.

Maybe one day in the future, it will be a relief to come and work in the real world to escape the silence craziness of academia. But for now, I crave the familiarity of my own introversion that academia allows me to indulge in.

My PhD is simple in comparison.

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2 month review

2+ months into my PhD and it's time for the first review.

Let me raise some issues of concern:

1. Microscope fear

(This is not ideal considering that my entire project requires microscopy).

Last week I 'broke' the microscope. ie. pulled a slider out into a different position. Well, I think that my crime perhaps wasn't worth the telling off I received, but anyway. (To be fair, the week earlier I also managed to get oil on the microscope's air objective, so I think now I'm viewed as high maintenance). Poor situational awareness, PT would say.

The other day I used a bottle from someone else's lab, and was left 'a note'.

Now I'm too scared to do anything. I feel alone in the lab, like some kind of wild-eyed rabbit caught in the spotlight.

'Um, what exactly do I do now?' I stutter and mumble, unsure of the question I'm asking or what the response means. Somebody help me!

2. Lack of achievement

I spent the entire day yesterday battling my way through my experiment, forgetting which antibodies I'm using, quickly fixing the problem, using the wrong mounting medium, fixing the problem, until BAM, I make that final mistake from which there is no going back. Experiment failed, time wasted, no results.

Hello, welcome to research. Come the end of the work day, I will not feel a sense of achievement. It's only when I look back at the weeks, months, and years as a whole will I MAYBE POSSIBLY realise the progress I have made. But that's far, far in the future.

3. Exhausted

I spend the entire day running up and down the stairs, attempting to fix said problems, asking people for help, feeling like a noob. I feel physically and emotionally drained.

I'm sure I'll have better weeks but this isn't one of them. Best to make a note of it anyway, I wouldn't want to skew the data.

Thank God it's Friday.

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Waiting for the beginning

Let's keep this short and sharp as I'm not feeling overly positive about my PhD today.

I'm struggling to maintain concentration, am easily distracted by email, Twitter, and this blog...

Both my supervisors are away and I desperately need help learning basic lab techniques before I can actually do anything. I'm too scared to ask my other advisor, who appears bored and irritated by my basic questions.

I don't know anything about my project and feel so totally overwhelmed when I try and 'read up on the topic'.

"Just read 10 papers and make notes, then you'll feel better," says PT.

Hilarious. I've read one paper in the last 10 days and somehow have to give a presentation to the lab next week about what I've achieved so far.

I haven't even started yet...

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Lab Communism

It's always scary starting in a new lab. But I've never been as scared as unsure as in this one.

I'm split between two labs, two floors, and two supervisors, and as a result I don't belong to anything or anyone. I'm shared, communal goods.

I started a trial experiment yesterday. Just some immunohistochemistry (or if you like, staining of proteins using fluorescent chemicals). Apparently an easy to achieve protocol. I haven't finished yet to see if it worked, but I used the wrong serum and broke two of the six coverslips containing my precious cells, so we'll see next week how 'easy' it really was!

I feel like I need someone to hold my hand. When I was an Honours student, and a Research Assistant, my supervisor was good at going through the protocol with me, showing me where everything was, stopping me before I made embarrassing mistakes. But now I'm a PhD student I think I'm supposed to think for myself. (A rather circular sentence, perhaps?)

"Here's the lab, here's the protocol, off you go!'

There's a new summer student in one of my labs and he's getting so much help and being included in experiments. I have to admit, I'm envious. 'Hello!!! I'm over here! Help me!'

The problem for me is that I hate asking other people for help. I hate having to interrupt other people, who I don't know, to ask them how to do some basic technique or which equipment I'm allowed to use.

Which brings me back (again, in a circular fashion) to where I started. Lab communism. Shared, communal goods. Rules! There are multiple labs working in the same area all using different equipment. No one has their own bench space or equipment. So for a new person like me, there's no safe haven. Everything is just a blur of random people, lab coats, and endless bottles of chemicals, and somehow I'm supposed to somehow which belongs to my lab.

I accidentally used permanent marker to write my name on the whiteboard. Talk about advertising my own mistakes to the masses.

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