Dresses

I realised in the last few days that I don't know what I like. Specifically, I am talking about clothes (although in general I think it's true too, but that's the subject of another blog :P). I have been buying whatever crap I can find that fits for so long that I have very little idea about what kinds of clothes I actually like. I doubt that I'll ever really be anything other than a jeans-and-tshirt kinda gal, but I have a wedding to go to in a few weeks, and thought I'd get a dress made while I am in Bali to wear to it. I didn't occur to me for a week or two after I made this decision that I would need some kind of idea of what kind of dress I want. So I have no idea at all what kind of dress I would want. None. I google images searched "dresses", and started saving the kinds of dresses I actually liked. It was a revelation to me to think that Venn diagrams of "people who wear dresses" and "me" could overlap (see Figure 1, below). Anyway, it turns out I like vintage dresses. Go me.


But it's not just dresses - they are kinda the extreme example. There is the possibility that I won't have to shop in a "larger women" section next time I go shopping. I could buy clothes that were made for normal people. And it's a bit scary, because I'm 26 and don't know how to clothes shop! Cross out scary, and replace with sad, on second thought. So I get to start to develop my own sense of style if I keep losing weight. Hmmm... sounds fun. It'll be interesting to see what clothes I actually like when not bound by size. I'm pretty sure they still won't be pink, and I think it's safe to say my midriff is likely to stay well concealed for the foreseeable future. But it's another adventure to embark on!

Literally

I hate the word literally. Actually, I hate it's misuse. And that's all I ever hear. You are not LITERALLY going to die if you don't get a cupcake. That is actually the opposite to the correct use of the word. I don't have that many things that really, really irk me, but when I hear literally misused I literally want to sit the person down and explain to them how very wrong they are.

What I do

So I have been whingeing about this thesis a very large amount over the last few months, and someone pointed out to me the other day that they have little idea what a thesis is, or what I'm doing. So here I go...

A PhD thesis in Science (in Australia) is a summary of all of the lab-based research you have done for the last 2.5-3 years. It's generally written after all of the research is done, and is broken into 3-10 chapters. Normally the structure includes an introduction (a 20+ page literature review which introduces the relevant concepts for the work, and the rationale behind what has been done), a methods chapter (which details as closely as possible exactly what you did and all of the materials, instruments and processes that were used), and then results chapters which each tell a little story about the things you did. The whole thing is supposed to make a nice overall story as well, and so there is a conclusion chapter at the end to sum it all up nicely.

The test for whether or not a PhD thesis is suitable to be passed is whether or not it has "demonstrated an original and significant contribution to knowledge". The length isn't relevant at all, and there are no real indications as to how long it should be (although in science, we tend to be between 200-300 pages). The thesis is sent to 2-3 external examiners, who decide whether or not the work and it's presentation is good enough. The examiners have to be people you (and your supervisors) don't work with, and are paid $300 to read your work. They decide whether it's good enough, if it needs little changes, big changes, total rewrite, or just fails. Most theses pass with little changes.

So anyway, MY thesis (see, what we do is start general, then get specific) is about 250 pages long, has 9 chapters (a LOT), and is entitled "The release of neurotrophic proteins from the conducting polymer polypyrrole to improve the nerve/cochlea implant interface". Thrilling, isn't it? Anyway, I have currently written 4 chapters completely and am 3/4 of the way through another. I have 2 results chapters to write (easy) and an introduction (hard) and conclusion chapter (supereasy). SoI should only be another month or two, and I'll be all done with it and be able to look back at this post without gritting my teeth about PhD theses.

Are you so severe upon your own sex?

I was planning on writing a blog a few days ago rambling about how I've always been a "guys girl", preferring the company of guys to girls. I have found that I have more to talk about with guys, and they tend to have a sense of humour closer to my own. The fact that I rarely have to engage in conversations about clothes, nails, hair or "cuteness" of various objects and people is also a fairly big plus. The blog was then going to go on to say "BUT, this has changed lately". And I guess it has - I have found myself in the middle of girls who I have decent opinions of recently. I've always had plenty of respect for many women around me (women meaning females older than me), but in the past girls my own age just seemed to either frustrate me or annoy me or both. I thought this was changing - either my view of the world was changing, or the "girls" around me had changed a bit to be more thoughtful, less bitchy, less glitter-oriented.

Now I get to the "but" of this blog. This was how I felt, and it is still how I feel about several of the girls that I am acquainted with. But the majority are still letting the team down. The new "glitter/clothes/hair" conversation is now "engagement/wedding/babies". They have turned from readers of Dolly and Girlfriend into readers of Bride Monthly and the "How to Please Your Man" section of Cosmo without passing go or working for $200. There are rules about how much engagement rings have to cost, and they are all planning their own rings and wedding locations. In between the bloody wedding talk, they somehow manage to find time to yammer on about about how fantastic their own relationships are (immediately after the whinges about their partners), while trying to denigrate everyone else's relationships around them. Since when has negotiating life with your significant other become a competitive sport.

This is not just the trend with one group of friends, but a pattern I am sad to see emerging with several of the girls I know from different social groups. It is sad that there is no real kind of sisterhood, either professionally or socially, among girls. There is no room to team up and work together because we are all too busy tearing each other down (or tearing strips off each other, don't think I don't see the irony of me writing this post) to feel better about our insecurities about our own lives and relationships. The competitive drive to get married and have babies has hit at 25-26, and I can see people around me losing sight of their hopes and dreams to pursue a comfortable, miserable life with 2 kids and a $10,000 engagement ring. I am so disappointed in my own sex that I am angry.

Scaredy Me

This is just a short post to say that I have been scared about moving toady. Maybe because I'm concerned about this alleged "rental crisis", and people telling me that I won't find a place to live. Or maybe because I just had time to think today. Either way, NERVOUS!

(the white circle on the map to the right is roughly where we are looking to move to - Malvern, Glen Iris, Caufield, Ashburton, Glen Huntly. Anywhere there. Even though we don't know much more about them than their names. Eek. Black circle is roughly Melbourne CBD)

Another side of moving on

So the last post kinda focussed on the positive aspects of moving on - the exciting future stuff Actually, it focussed on why I like my DS. But anyway... this post is about some of the more negative things about the move. Namely, leaving things behind.

I have been stuck doing something that I'm not proud of, and don't really enjoy, for the last few years. It's not some kind of sordid drug addiction story, or depraved sexual dependancy. It's role playing. Yes, like DnD rolepaying. I have devoted one night of my week almost every week for the last 5-6 years to eating snacks, rolling d20s and playing some kind of fantasy character. And the people I have been stuck on this nerdy ship with have been a... colourful bunch. A married couple obsessed with drawing and/or writing porn. A frustrated sculptor/engineer who would rather be the former than the latter. A brother obsessed with swords. A rotating cast of "the other one", including a few 30-40 year old virgins still unemployed and living with their parents, a 28-year old creative writing chain smoker, and most recently a computer programmer who grew up in Canada, the Middle East and god-knows-where-else and his MMORPG-loving girlfriend. I have had my annoyances and frustrations with a few of them, but they have taught me a lot about being accepting of other people and their differences, and I am fond of them in a weird way.

But on Saturday, after a rather frustrating session on Friday night, I left them. I finally sent an email to sever my connection with these guys after 5-6 years of not-quite-getting-around-to-it. And it felt great. It still feels great in some ways, but the excitement has abated a bit as I realise that this is part of my first goodbyes. Leaving these guys behind is something I should have done a long time ago. But shortly I'll be leaving behind things and people that I would rather not. Thankfully, technology today means that being in a geographically different place is not the end of relationships, but a 12 hour drive is a disincentive to drop around for a cup of tea, or a hug.

Anyway, I am excited about the freedom that this first goodbye has given me (Friday night s are prime real estate!), but sobered by the realisation that this marks the beginning of the bad stuff in the move.