Happy Birthday, Thesis!

Today is my thesis' first birthday -- yes, the six-month tormentor of my days and nights has turned one year old!  I know, normally people probably don't remember the exact dates of things like this, but I accept that I am an oddity.  Just for fun, here's what I wrote that day (April 23, 2011) after finishing those last few words:

I'm in a state of shock at the moment.  As of 10:00 am today, the horrible, monstrous, insidious, ill-formed offspring of my feeble mind, also known as my thesis, which has plagued me like a host of ten thousand camels tap-dancing on my shoulders in combat boots, is finally written.  I actually wrote a thesis.  I contributed something original, something on a topic which has not been covered, to the field of history.   

Forgive me while I faint. 

Okay, had to get that out of my system - the faint, not the shock.  No, I'm still in shock.  I honestly never thought I'd be able to do it.  I mean, have you ever considered what actually goes into writing a thesis?  It is no ordinary paper.  No reading a few books and then jotting down what you learned.  For my thesis, I read 62 books, countless journal articles, more than 1,000 pages worth of US foreign affairs cables, more than 2,000 pages of declassified OSS documents, several US presidential executive orders, and a couple dozen newspaper articles.  Oh, and I did that this semester . . . the same semester that I wrote the thesis.  That would be why I am just now finishing the creature. 

It's an odd sort of feeling, looking at the stack of pages that I created.  I'm not sure yet whether to tenderly regard it as my beloved child or as a grotesquely mutilated fetus that somehow survived to make it out of the womb.  I suppose I shall have to reserve judgment until my committee has reviewed the creature.

 The funny part is, even after a year, I still haven't fully figured out how I view my thesis.  I still regard it with half pride and half revulsion.  I am far enough removed from it to now be able to feel a glimmer of appreciation at my writing (I'm not meaning to boast; I just think I did a good job), but I still cringe when I suddenly think of things I should have done differently.  I guess this is evidence that I probably shouldn't go ahead and turn it into a book -- I don't think I'm cut out to be another Geoffrey Wawro.

Jasper "helps" me with research.

2011 in Review

2011 was . . . wow, even I am at a loss as to how to describe it.  I think this is the best I can do:  2011 was a bipolar teenage female year having a very rough, long menstrual cycle and occasionally getting drunk or taking mind-altering anti-psychotic medications in order to cope with it, and also battling numerous authority issues.  Yup, that about sums up 2011.

History students will one day study this year -- actually, my history students will study it for a little while when they return to school at the end of January!  It was the year of protests, revolutions, scandals, dead despots, and the world media's obsession with Pippa Middleton's rear end.  I don't have space for all of the events that took place, but here were just a few that captured my attention:

• The US finally got Bin Laden.  Now I am not a person who rejoices in death of anyone, but here I had to make an exception.  That man was evil.  I don't care that another will just rise up to take his place; Bin Laden had a special kind of dreadful hate about him, and I cheered when I read that he was gone from the world at last.  I still have nightmares sometimes about September 11 -- that day will likely haunt me for the rest of my life, and I didn't even lose anyone that day.  I cannot forget the horrible, wrenching fear that gripped us all that day and the days that followed.  My teenage journal records all the sleepless nights I spent as a high-schooler, convinced that we were headed for World War III.
• The Arab Spring.  It was like a game of Middle Eastern dominoes, with revolutions breaking out right and left and Twitter and Facebook suddenly playing a role that their creators never imagined.  I hope and pray that the new governments will do better by their people than the old, but . . . I am not holding my breath.
• The deaths of Qaddafi and Kim.  Two more evil men, both of whom had hands and hearts so blackened with blood and corruption that they almost ceased to be human. Others will take their places, sadly.  Especially in the case of North Korea, winter is far from over.
• A whole bunch of people throughout the US got really mad, had no common goals/aims/ideologies, and decided to riot and basically make lawless pests of themselves.  I'm sorry -- I just can't take the "Occupy" protesters seriously.  Change is not brought about by neglecting your responsibilities, shouting, waving signs (several of them with abominably bad spelling, by the way), and trying to goad the police into using gas.  What takes place when those protesters gather is nothing grander than small-scale anarchy -- it's like a bunch of overgrown toddlers throwing tantrums because Mommy won't let them breastfeed anymore.  Yes, change needs to happen, though I am certain I disagree with most of the protesters as to exactly what type of change is necessary.  There is certainly a better way to bring it about.

2011 was a big year in my personal life as well.  I really have no historical significance at all, although I do like to hope that I at least brighten whatever corner I happen to be in (I do try, anyway).  However, since this is MY blog, I'm going to indulge in mild narcissism and review some of the big events that happened to me this year:

• I brought in 2011 with no clear idea of what my future held, other than that I was pretty sure God was ignoring my wishes and calling me back to the classroom.  After the Manasses experience, I had sworn off ever teaching again.  Fortunately, God knows what's best for me and never listens to my feeble protests (to be fair, He does make the journey very pleasant once I stop kicking and screaming).  It was not until February that I became aware that I was likely headed back overseas in my future -- and even then, I confess that I had plenty of doubts.  I had two dogs, tons of furniture, and a car -- how could I possibly leave the USA?
• I fought the War of the Thesis.  It was bloody, exhausting, fraught with danger and difficulty, plus the CIA tried to reclassify a large portion of the documents that I needed.  At several points, both my thesis chair and I believed that the thing would never be written.  I had nightmares about showing up to my defense with nothing to defend.  I even wrote a short story about my thesis becoming self-aware, coming to life, and trying to kill me.  On April 23, just a few months after I started, I was able to write on this blog, "As of 10:00 am today, the horrible, monstrous, insidious, ill-formed offspring of my feeble mind, also known as my thesis, which has plagued me like a host of ten thousand camels tap-dancing on my shoulders in combat boots, is finally written."  On May 2, I defended the monster and passed with flying colors!  In the same vein, I graduated on May 13 with my Master of Arts degree in history, having completed it in a year and a half, and finishing with High Distinction (solid 4.0).  That's pretty much the biggest achievement in my 27 years of life.
• There was, of course, the car accident on May 6.  A distracted young driver hit me head-on on a mountain road.  She is now trying to push a claim against me.  Ah, irresponsible, greedy Americans -- how they warm the heart.
• I moved to China!  It was by far the biggest decision of my life, but once I made it, I never doubted that it was the right choice (even though my family thought I was nuts -- they usually do, so I lovingly ignored them).  Since leaving in late July, I have found a degree of happiness and contentment that I previously could never have imagined.  I teach at a fantastic school with the finest group of educators I have ever met, and my students are a brilliant and witty ensemble of pure awesomeness. I don't have a single student that I would like to lead to the guillotine!  I occasionally indulge in the mental image of bopping one or two of them, but on the whole, I love 'em all!  I also have had my heart completely stolen away by China -- who would ever have foreseen it?
• My mom got sick.  This was, for me, probably the most difficult thing to get through in 2011.  She's doing all right now, but for a while, she had me pretty terrified.  It's really tough to grapple with sick relatives and not be able to do anything for them because you're thousands of miles away.
• I wound up on this surprise extended journey in Korea, all because of an obstinate ankle that refuses to behave.

And so, I face 2012 with a lot less uncertainty than I faced 2011 (for one thing, I have THE BEST JOB EVER! and for another, I don't have to worry about whether or not I can actually write a thesis).  As I enter another year, I do have a few questions on my mind:

• Will I start the new year with an operation?
• When do I get to leave Korea and go back to China (not that Korea isn't a great country, but China is home)?
• Will Kim Jong-Un be as evil as his father?  What will happen here in Asia because of him?
• How will I ever get this bloodsucking reckless driver off my back?  Doesn't she realize that I'm as good as a pauper?!
• How soon is too soon to give my freshmen a pop quiz next semester?
• Being out of sight, is it only a matter of time before I'm out of mind for the people I left behind in the USA?  Has it already happened with some?
• How can I better brighten my corner?  Am I doing enough?

Farewell, 2011!  Welcome into the world, 2012!

And a happy New Year to everyone!

Graduated!

On May 14, 2011, I graduated with my MA in history and a medal for High Distinction (4.0 GPA).  Our speaker, who gave the best graduation speech I have ever listened to, was Hollywood screenwriter/director Randall Wallace.

Rachel and I.  We're sleep-deprived and grateful to be DONE!

The ladies of Lantern Hollow Press, minus Kami.

All nine of the history department's new MAs.

The most fantastic graduation cake ever, courtesy of Rachel's sister Emily.  She made it in the shape of an antique book! And it was a chocolate mocha cake!  She knows us well.

The Defending of the Thesis

In case you were wondering, I defended my thesis on May 2, and passed!  Plenty of things went wrong, since this was, after all, me defending.  I had only gotten two hours of sleep, I was dopey from benedryl (my spring/summer allergies have been HORRIBLE), and I forgot my adapter for the presentation and had to use someone else's laptop, which meant that my slideshow animations didn't work on the inferior PowerPoint (Keynote is SO MUCH better) and a few of my slides got warped or deleted.

Because my topic has not been written on (at least, not published about), I was commended for a thesis that discussed an exciting, unknown topic in the field of WWII espionage history.  My committee members all enjoyed reading it, and they said that it was excellent work.  So, I guess the nervous breakdowns and sleepless nights were all worth it!

Sleepless in Atlanta

Well, that Atlanta trip back in April certainly proved that I can handle both the unexpected and a severe lack of sleep.  I should do just fine as a teacher in China!

Owing to severe storms, my flight leaving Lynchburg was delayed twice.  Instead of departing at 5:45 pm as planned, it wound up being after 8:00, which meant that I had to change my connecting flight in Charlotte to a later one.  That flight then got slightly delayed.  We took off around 10:00 pm and had a highly white-knuckled flight to Atlanta.  I have not experienced so much turbulence since my harrowing flight in the Philippines a few years ago!  It was like being trapped inside a stormy pinball machine.  The plane bounced to and fro, while lightening flashed all around it.  I admit, although I am a seasoned flyer, that I had to say more than one prayer that the plane wouldn't crash!

Once we got to Atlanta, the plane had to circle, as Atlanta was not allowing anyone to land.  After nearly half an hour, the pilot announced that Atlanta had closed and evacuated their airport, and we would have to return to Charlotte.  Everyone on the plane groaned quite loudly!  We had an even more stomach-churning flight back, as the storm had worsened (this was the same storm system that spawned multiple tornadoes, one of which practically wiped out Ringgold, GA).  When we returned to Charlotte, we were able to land, but not to disembark from the plane.  In our absence, Charlotte airport had also closed and evacuated!

After spending more than an hour stuck in a landed plane, with a wild storm going on outside, the airport finally figured out what to do with all of us passengers.  They announced that we would be leaving for Atlanta as soon as it could be done safely; in the meantime, we had to wait in Charlotte's abandoned airport.  We all made mad scurries for electrical outlets, as EVERYONE had electronics (mostly cellphones) that needed recharging.  I found a secluded area a ways from our gate and settled myself on the floor to recharge my own phone, which had died.  From my iPod, I managed to email in and let my new employer know that I would be very late arriving in Atlanta.

Finally, we flew out to Atlanta again, crossing our fingers and hoping that we would actually get to land this time.  Having pulled an all-nighter the night before in order to finish my thesis, I was now completely exhausted.  After landing in Atlanta, getting my rental car, and driving to my hotel, I finally checked in at 5:30 am.   I had been awake for 46 hours straight.  I caught a two-hour nap, showered, then grabbed some expresso from Starbucks for breakfast and went in for my all-day psychological examination (it was to determine if I have the mental stability/stamina to handle life in China for two years or more).

Clearly, I am less crazy than my family and friends think.  Despite all that went on before it, I passed my evaluation with flying colors and got the green light for China!  A few weeks later, I was officially hired by the school and signed my contract.

I Gave Birth to a Thesis!

So many people that I know are getting married or having babies lately.  I just had a thesis.

Aw, isn't he cute?  He has my eyes.

Mere minutes ago, I turned in the three copies of my 97-page baby to their new foster parents (my thesis committee).  Having pulled another all-nighter in order to accomplish this feat, I now want to flop over in a dead heap.  But, no such luck.  There's work and then travel (I'm off to Atlanta tonight).  Oh well; there'll be time enough to sleep when I'm dead!

Only five more days until I defend (shudder)!

Did I Really Just Write That?

I'm in a state of shock at the moment.  As of 10:00 am today, the horrible, monstrous, insidious, ill-formed offspring of my feeble mind, also known as my thesis, which has plagued me like a host of ten thousand camels tap-dancing on my shoulders in combat boots, is finally written.  I actually wrote a thesis.  I contributed something original, something on a topic which has not been covered, to the field of history.  Forgive me while I faint.

Okay, had to get that out of my system - the faint, not the shock.  No, I'm still in shock.  I honestly never thought I'd be able to do it.  I mean, have you ever considered what actually goes into writing a thesis?  It is no ordinary paper.  No reading a few books and then jotting down what you learned.  For my thesis, I read 62 books, countless journal articles, more than 1,000 pages worth of US foreign affairs cables, more than 2,000 pages of declassified OSS documents, several US presidential executive orders, and a couple dozen newspaper articles.  Oh, and I did that this semester . . . the same semester that I wrote the thesis.  That would be why I am just now finishing the creature.

It's an odd sort of feeling, looking at the stack of pages that I created.  I'm not sure yet whether to tenderly regard it as my beloved child or as a grotesquely mutilated fetus that somehow survived to make it out of the womb.  I suppose I shall have to reserve judgment until my committee has reviewed the creature.

Bat Wings! Yea!

It's so hard to believe that it's almost over.  Graduation is in just over five weeks.  One chapter remains to be written of the (evil) thesis, as well as an introduction and conclusion.  Everything else is done!  The classes have been finished for months.  There are no papers other than thesis left to write.  I have one poster session left to enter (hurray, my proposal was accepted).  The GPA is a solid 4.0 and cannot be injured.  Today I went to the bookstore and picked up my regalia: the gown with bat wings, the masters' hood, the cap, the tassel, and the stole (I'll get my "High Distinction" gold medal later).  It's exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at once.

I have HOW little time left to finish and defend this blasted thesis?!

Inspired by the Great Pencil Massacre

 Inspired by the past few days of sharpening pencils for Assessment Day (I sharpened a grand total of 3,680!), the poet in me felt the need to compose a few soothing limericks:

I

There once a girl named Stephanie

Who had pencils ‘far as she could see.

Though she coughed from the lead

She kept plunging ahead,

Stephanie and her sharpeners three.

II

Poor Stephanie had pencils galore,

And boxes piled up with e’en more!

She sharpened each one

Till the whole pile was done,

Then, exhausted, collapsed to the floor!

III

Three sharpeners sat on a desk

Each acting quite statuesque

When the pencils in their stead

Started shedding their lead

And turned the act into burlesque

IV

A grad student working at LU

Had numerous odd jobs to do.

Her bulging resume

Had a great deal to say

When at last she bid them adieu!

V

Thousands of pencils sat waiting

While the sharpeners kept on grating

Said a pencil to his friend,

“Dear, this is the end,

For I fear that my size is abating.”

VI

One day I had pencils to grind

Till the noise put me out of my mind.

The whole office cheered

As the last pencil was sheared,

But cried when Dr. Letting resigned.

VII

There once was a girl in IE

Who went on a sharpening spree.

Poisoned by the lead,

She went nuts in her head,

And was quarantined by CDC

VIII

A proud student of academ-ese

Found her brain beginning to freeze.

Though she loved her subject,

She began to suspect,

She was killing herself by degrees.

I'm a Pencil Pusher!

Ever wonder how universities get all those sharpened #2 pencils for Assessment Day?

Some graduate assistant gets to sharpen them.  All 3,640 of them.

Fortunately, I also get to watch NCIS (with headphones) while I do it.  Well, only about 3,000 to go!

Perhaps One of the More Creative Reasons for Not Writing One's Thesis

'Twas a rough weekend.  A really, really rough weekend.

On Friday, a chipper little migraine arrived, informed me that he had come to derail my thesis writing, and promptly began drilling a hole in my head.  I countered with some effective meds.  The migraine, stopped in his tracks, was annoyed and sought revenge.  And that, I maintain, is how I managed to burn my hand with boiling water (in other words, I was cooking lunch while medicated).  I thought at first that it was a deep first degree burn, but later examination proves that I actually got a light second on a big section of the back of my left hand.

Needless to say, the pain was excruciating.  And typing was, sadly, not to be.  So that whole weekend, when I could have been furiously typing away at the thesis, I had to instead content myself with reading.  Owing to an accidental overdose of Lidocaine (a burn ointment), I wound up sick all weekend, so reading didn't progress all that far either.  In the end, I divided my weekend between laying in bed with migraines while attempting to read, drifting into fitful naps, vomiting, and trying to research while icing my poor hand.  Fortunately, I have a very sympathetic advisor.

And Work Keeps Pouring In!

Between this nasty cold I've attained and all the work/projects/obligations of the past week, I've been averaging about 2-3 hours of sleep per night. Today, to my dismay, I observed that, thanks to the cold, I've gone through more tissues than pages of reading! My poor nose is starting to feel like a cannon that has been fired to the point that its insides are stripped!

The thesis might eat me. I have a research trip up to Maryland planned for Monday (to save money, I'm doing it all in one day - leaving at 3:00 am, getting back around 11:00 pm). The introduction (about ten pages) is due this Friday, and the first chapter (about 30 pages) is due February 11. My research has so far been interesting, but insufficient (largely the fault of the massive work project I inherited). Work is busy, with multiple things going at once. Those who lament my tendency to avoid the telephone are forewarned: I doubt that I'll pick up that phone more than once in the next month!

Additionally, the job hunt is on yet again, since it is my goal to graduate with a job in hand. I'm keeping my options very wide, indeed; I'm looking at online adjunct positions, teaching positions, government agencies, and historical sites. Today I've resolved to send out at least ten resumes and applications before this evening, while also working on reading some of my newest thesis materials.

On the bright side, ever since I switched to the Atkin's diet, my daytime migraines have ceased. So, it looks like wheat was the culprit behind all those months of misery. I do miss things like noodles and pretzels, but the lack of migraines make it all worth it.

Whew! Hopefully the massive amounts of cold medicine will inspire me to greatness; otherwise, it's going to be a very long weekend!

Proposal Accepted!

Huzzah! Despite my own doubts, my thesis chair apparently found my thesis proposal legible and believes that I have a solid argument. Now I have to set out and actually pull it off. Oy. Why did I choose such an ambitious topic that no one has written on yet? Sure I've found a niche, but what was I thinking?! It's overwhelming every time that I look at the stack of research or think of all those blank pages I've got to fill with legible thoughts.

It's very odd not having classes this semester. Tonight, my roommate had her first class of the semester, and I felt a bittersweet pang. I'm actually jealous of her! I would love to have taken a class or two just for fun this semester, but my thesis chair forbid it (he tends to know what's good for me much more than I do). I feel a bit like a boat that's been let loose from its moorings and given free reign on a windy day. It's going to be tricky to self-motivate enough to stay ahead. And as stressful and terrifying as this final hurdle is, I'm saddened by the fact that it's all going to be over so soon. I'll finish writing at the end of March, defend in April, and graduate in May. I honestly wish I could just stay in the cocoon of academia, even though I know I need to metamorphose, spread my new wings, and launch into bigger and better things.

And . . . It's Over (Almost. Really, Really Almost.)

The hardest semester of my academic life has at last drawn to a close. Can you hear the peasants' collective sigh of relief? Whew; I honestly thought at one point that I might not make it. All those migraines can make one think some crazy thoughts. I went off the preventative meds in order to be able to concentrate better last week (the side effects are really strong on the current mixture of pills), but I've gone back on this week, so I'm hoping to make it through today without a migraine.

All that's left of my semester is one presentation, which I'm giving tonight. I'm presenting my research on colonial diseases, which apparently impressed my professor much more than I thought it would (considering the duress under which I finished the paper). I was going to bake a cake shaped like cholera to give my presentation some pizzazz, but I was too tired last night. So, instead I created an interactive presentation with music, pictures, and a game for the class to play. I figured, it's the end of the semester and the end of my graduate classes, so why not have some fun?

Yup, you heard me right a second ago: this is my very last day of graduate classes. It's all over; nothing left now but thesis. That terrifying monster is supposed to be finished by March 31. Somebody hold me! Ah well, as my mother is fond of saying, I seem to thrive on stress.

I hope.

Oh, the Exhaustion!

December is a very, very, very hectic and overcrowded month this year. And to further muddle things, I'm now on three preventative daily drugs for migraines (all of which have "fun" side effects) and I have given up dairy products. No egg nog, no delicious holiday creamers, no ice cream, no cheese. It's a miserable experiment, but I have got to find out whether or not foods are influencing my migraines. So, December is "non-dairy month" and January will be (shudder) "wheatless month". In February, I'll try giving up caffeine and chocolate. Hopefully, by then I'll be able to discern if anything makes a difference. With a thesis looming in my future, I have to do whatever it takes to get the migraines under control.

On the bright side, I discovered that Silk makes their own version of egg nog without any dairy, so I've been consoling myself with that. I also found, after considerable searching, an ice cream that is made from coconut milk. It actually tastes better than most ice cream, but the price is enough to bring on a migraine! I've reserved it for a very special treat.

My final days of graduate classes are upon me; after the 13th of this month, all I'll have left is my thesis. The workload for these last ten days is staggering: two research papers, two required books to read (on top of what I read for research), two presentations, an arduous quiz, and two book reviews. And, of course, I still have my two jobs. And I have a puppy to housebreak. And I am on the church hospitality committee. And I'm sending out applications for further education upon graduation.

Pardon me for a moment while I go whimper.

Okay, that feels better. In happier news, Sidhe Eyes is still progressing at an acceptable rate, though I'm not quite certain how I've been managing it. I'm now on chapter 5 of Book Two, which means Book Two is about a fourth of the way done. I'm going to go back and add to Book One in order to balance things better, since I believe that Book Two will probably require twenty chapters, and Book One only has thirteen. I'm hoping to get a lot done over Christmas break.

I have narrowed down my list of programs to apply to. I'm going to apply to three PhD programs and two post-graduate certificate programs, all of which excite me. I'm also applying for adjunct positions at several universities and sending in applications to a few other possibilities. As I've said before, I am really keeping my options open. Overall, I'd prefer to stay here, but I'm open to alternatives.

The Twelve Days of Migraines

On the first day of migraines,
My professor gave to me
Incentive against a PhD!

On the second day of migraines,
My professor gave to me
Two computer glitches,
And incentive against a PhD!

On the third day of migraines,
My professor gave to me
Three large aspirin,
Two computer glitches,
And incentive against a PhD!

On the fourth day of migraines,
My professor gave to me
Four cups of coffee,
Three large aspirin,
Two computer glitches,
And incentive against a PhD!

On the fifth day of migraines,
My professor gave to me
Five thesis meetings,
Four cups of coffee,
Three large aspirin,
Two computer glitches,
And incentive against a PhD!

On the sixth day of migraines,
My professor gave to me
Six deadlines nearing,
Five thesis meetings,
Four cups of coffee,
Three large aspirin,
Two computer glitches,
And incentive against a PhD!

On the seventh day of migraines,
My professor gave to me
Seven primary sources,
Six deadlines nearing,
Five thesis meetings,
Four cups of coffee,
Three large aspirin,
Two computer glitches,
And incentive against a PhD!

On the eighth day of migraines,
My professor gave to me
Eight reviews for skimming,
Seven primary sources,
Six deadlines nearing,
Five thesis meetings,
Four cups of coffee,
Three large aspirin,
Two computer glitches,
And incentive against a PhD!

On the ninth day of migraines,
My professor gave to me
Nine marxist historians,
Eight reviews for skimming,
Seven primary sources,
Six deadlines nearing,
Five thesis meetings,
Four cups of coffee,
Three large aspirin,
Two computer glitches,
And incentive against a PhD!

On the tenth day of migraines,
My professor gave to me
Ten things to forget,
Nine marxist historians,
Eight reviews for skimming,
Seven primary sources,
Six deadlines nearing,
Five thesis meetings,
Four cups of coffee,
Three large aspirin,
Two computer glitches,
And incentive against a PhD!

On the eleventh day of migraines,
My professor gave to me
Eleven previous studies,
Ten things to forget,
Nine marxist historians,
Eight reviews for skimming,
Seven primary sources,
Six deadlines nearing,
Five thesis meetings,
Four cups of coffee,
Three large aspirin,
Two computer glitches,
And incentive against a PhD!

On the twelfth day of migraines,
My professor gave to me
Twelve books for reading,
Eleven previous studies,
Ten things to forget,
Nine marxist historians,
Eight reviews for skimming,
Seven primary sources,
Six deadlines nearing,
Five thesis meetings,
Four cups of coffee,
Three large aspirin,
Two computer glitches,
And incentive against a PhD!

Seven Days, Seven Migraines

Tweaking my medication for a few days in the hopes of reducing the side effects was an abysmal mistake. Although I went back to the prescribed dosage (I had tried taking less) rather quickly, it must have messed something up. In seven days, I have managed seven migraines. Today's was the worst. I had planned to do eight hours of schoolwork and about five or six hours of work on my novel. Instead, I did two hours of writing and then spent the entire rest of the day on the couch, wondering at what point a human brain finally gives up and just explodes. Even the new pain meds were not enough for this one. In fact, I'm still in a lot of pain at the moment, and still having trouble remaining upright.

It's hard not to get discouraged and frustrated. Here I am, effectively working three jobs, with multiple important responsibilities, and I'm practically turning into an invalid because of my migraines. It seems that I have two unhappy alternatives: I can either spend the entire day completely doped from the preventative meds, or I can spend the day in agony from the migraine (and also doped from the pain meds). I decided on Friday that this is no way to live a life; next week, I'm making an appointment to see a neurologist.

I admit, part of this outbreak of migraines is probably my own fault for taking on too much. Besides my 25 hour per week job at the university (which is enjoyable, but also stressful), I am also taking nine credits of grad classes, which amounts to about thirty to forty hours per week spent reading and writing. Additionally, I do about twenty hours per week on average for Lantern Hollow Press. And on top of it all, I have both a thesis and a novel to write.

I was reflecting the other day that very few people decide to write a novel at the same time as a thesis. In fact, it seems rather an insane idea, considering the stress and tremendous work required by both. To effectively work two jobs and have classes just makes the whole thing seem ridiculous . . . and yet, here it is more than half way through the semester and I've been managing to do it all, without affecting my grades. I may be crazy, but God has certainly been gracious. It's He alone that has been responsible for any success I've had. So, despite all the pain and sickness, I could certainly be worse off. Also, I have a lot to be thankful for.

Thanks for giving me a few minutes to whine. Now I think I'll try to get a little bit more writing done before collapsing into bed.

Stephanie on Auto-Pilot (Yes, I Have that Feature Installed)

This week has quite literally been a blur to me. I've been running solely on autopilot, which is, I guess, a good thing. I missed my Monday classes because I was incapable of staying awake for more than a few minutes at a time, then managed to fight sleep successfully enough to make it to work and class on Tuesday. By Wednesday, the side effects had lessened enough that I wasn't fighting sleep quite as much. Instead, I had vertigo and queasiness to fight. How fun (note the sarcasm)! Yesterday and today have been about the same as Wednesday. To be safe, I have been getting rides from my roommate and one of my close friends rather than trying to drive. That's one of my hard and fast rules: I DO NOT drive when I am under heavy medicinal influence. Getting somewhere is NEVER worth accidentally injuring or killing someone else.

Despite the heavy influence of these awful side effects, I've still managed to accomplish a fair amount. I suppose years of forcing myself to keep going with migraines or injuries has made me resourceful and tough. I've gotten all of my coursework done on time, even Monday's work (which I sent to class with my roommate). Sidhe Eyes, my novel-in-progress, has now reached eleven completed chapters and is close to 150 pages long (even longer than my theses will be). I just finished doing a massive project as work, which "the powers that be" are very happy with. And, I also managed not to embarrass myself at my Confirmation (which took place last Sunday). Huzzah!

Now, if I can just manage to pull off another stellar week of work on auto-pilot. The side effects are still going strong, and I have two book reviews, two presentations, and a frightening quiz to prepare for. I also have my writing group (Inklings III) and a Lantern Hollow Press meeting (today and tomorrow, respectively). 'Tis going to be a very un-restful weekend!

Stephanie Doesn't Live Here Anymore

I'm in quite a difficult bind at the moment. My new medication has kept me migraine free for six days now (a record - I haven't gone that long without one in ages). Unfortunately, the side effects are so miserable that they make the cure as bad as the ailment. I may not be in pain, but I possibly in something worse. Every day now is a seemingly endless battle for consciousness. I am dizzy, lethargic, queasy, at times incoherent . . . ug. It feels like I am swimming through endless curtains, inside a very long tunnel. I have to fight to create understandable sentences when I speak or write, and reading is a feat that takes ten times the effort. I read a sentence, forget what I just read, then have to read it again.

Yesterday I couldn't even make it to class. I kept falling asleep while trying to prepare, then finally gave up and sent my papers with my roommate. Today I accepted her offer of a ride to campus, realizing that I am in no condition to drive. Sheesh, I am not even in a fit condition to walk! Or sit! Or type (I keep making typos and then having to go back and fix them)!

I've opted to give myself three weeks to adjust to these new medications. If by then I still have these horrible side effects, I'm going to have to make a tough choice: multiple massive migraines every week or life inside a drugged stupor?

I, Zombie

It's been an "interesting" few months. Trying to squeeze more work into a day than the hours in a day would allow left me exhausted. The stress left me feeling raw, sort of like the way one might feel if the top layer of skin were yanked off one's entire body. Needless to say, my migraines continued in their "employee of the week" mindset, being certain to come at regular times and to complete derail me wherever possible. Migraines are very dedicated in their pursuit of torture and destruction. Having three to four migraines a week was just ridiculous, as it meant that I was never able to finish all of my reading. I found myself forced into a "winging it" method of graduate school survival. The migraines and I were embroiled in a war that they were winning. Clearly, something needed to change.

So, I went to the doctor. He put me on preventative pills. The migraines triumphed over me in glee, completely ignoring the medication that was supposed to prevent their arrival. Downtrodden and defeated, I returned to the doctor. He whipped out his magical prescription pad and supplied me with a fresh arsenal of preventative ammunition in the war against migraines. I started the new battle last night.

My new preventative medications (two different drugs, taken twice daily) are sort of like atomic warfare against my brain. The migraines are being soundly defeated, but nothing can grow in their territory now. The battlefield of my brain is seemingly barren, unable to formulate ideas or actions at the same speed previously attained. In short, I am currently a zombie.

Life as a zombie is relaxed and unstressful. In fact, I presently feel nothing. No emotion, good or bad, no need for rushing, no sense of time. I find coherency a difficult feat to attain, but it is still at least somewhat attainable. I'm hoping that these side effects wear off so that my brain can resume normal functions, but for the moment, I am strangely content with my floating feeling and my lack of emotion. It's sort of like hibernation after a long period of no rest at all.

Given the choice between zombie-hood and constant migraine warfare, I am honestly not sure which I would prefer to have permanently. With luck, my body and brain will adjust to these new medications and the migraines will bid a bitter adieu. If not, I suppose I'll pick zombie-hood for the time being. I may be functioning at a much lower capacity, but at least I am free of agonizing pain and nausea.