Giving a stress test by MutantFrog
After seeing plenty of beady-eyed freshmen prepping themselves for their first college experience here at UB, I’m reminded of the excitement I once had coming here to study. I never had prior visits to Buffalo, but thanks to some helpful souls, I got settled down pretty fast. As I recalled, it was quite a good experience.
Now, contrary to how I once felt fresh off the boat, this Fall semester is going to get really bloody for me. While others go merrily about their classes, I’ll be sweating buckets worrying over getting things done in time. If I thought writing during the summer break was hard, writing while sitting in on classes (which I’ll be teaching next time) as well as re-taking that forsaken Advanced Stats class, all while working as usual, is going to be like putting my brain in sixth gear with a broken pedal to the metal.
As my advisor once warned me, taking up a PhD isn’t something you do out of fancy. I think he was trying to tell me that it has to literally be your calling. Thing is, I would have never known if I had not tried it. Now that I’m in it, do I know?
Being the only surviving Informatics graduate student to crossover to the Communication department for the doctoral program, I feel privileged but frowned upon at the same time. Frankly speaking, my interest in the social media doesn’t seem to lend me strong ties with my traditional communication faculty. Other than my advisor who’s a maverick in his own right, I doubt anyone there really understands or appreciates what I am trying to accomplish. Getting the typical “I thought you graduated” from the very faculty whom you work under isn’t exactly heartwarming either.
At this point you might be wondering what’s the point of me telling you all this. Perhaps I’m looking for some advice to making it all work. I feel like I’m fire-fighting everyday as I try to write but end up with blank sheets of paper. The worst thing is that the longer this goes, the more dissimal I feel as I grow older with loved ones waiting on me.
Time is running out.
No, I shouldn’t quit.
Not without a fight.