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emmanation

You like me! Of course, you probably don't know me very well.

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8 reasons not to date a statistics graduate student

Tuesday, April 3rd, 2012

(The title is entirely misleading, because I do not hang out with any statistics graduate students that aren’t me – therefore I really mean ’8 things that I do that are irritating now that I am a statistics graduate student’. That’s not as catchy, though, so … continue.)

1) She will correct you (and your friends) when you use the word ‘probability’ lightly. Probability means something specific, people.

2) She will make you quiz her on the difference between the Cramer-Rao theorem and the Rao-Blackwell theorem. You will not care, because she doesn’t really care.

3) She will endlessly cite ‘this thing I read’ and then spend ten minutes with her smartphone trying to find it, because she doesn’t want to tell you the wrong sample size.

4) She is broke. (This has nothing to do with statistics and everything to do with her being a grad student.)

5) She is cranky. (See parenthetical above.)

6) She will derail every conversation with ‘I wonder how likely that is’.

7) She will watch all of the episodes of Supernatural that are available on Netflix on an endless loop while she studies. (What, I told you I don’t hang out with other stats students. I have no reason to believe this isn’t true for everyone. (<= That is some TERRIBLE statistical inference that I just did there.))

8) She wants to graduate more than anything else in the world, including more than she wants to be nice.

Ok, fine. This is basically an apology to everyone for me sucking. And me being mean. And also me being boring. And watching all of Supernatural for the third time (Crockett, that one is for you specifically). I’m very sorry.

 

a person

Friday, March 30th, 2012

I sat down with my tattoo artist (Hi Joy!) on Monday to touch up my arm flowers, and I realized that I made the leap from ‘a person who has a tattoo’ to a ‘tattooed person’. That’s a different thing, I think, although I can’t put my finger on exactly why. I guess because now I have a bunch? Well, three or seven, if you count by actual tattoos or count each area as one.

And then yesterday I went to this thingy… a conference thingy. And I met some very nice people who geniunely enjoy academia. I have had a good two years to become an academic, and I’ve totally failed. I mean, I haven’t failed my classes, but I have yet to embrace the lifestyle in any noticeable way. I presented my poster and then I left at the earliest possible moment. Which, now that I think of it, the academia-lovers did too…

I hate grad school. I do. I mean, I’m not sneaky about it. It’s hard, and I constantly feel judged (because people are judging me!) and I’m constantly working on things that contribute to absolutely nothing (hi, homework!), and I’m basically just over it. I graduate in six weeks, and I have been shouting it from the rooftops. (I should probably stop that before my advisor or someone hears me.)

I wonder if we chose the things that we become ‘a person’ for, or if they chose us. Could I have chosen to become an academic person?

I guess it’s too late now.

Not my job

Tuesday, February 14th, 2012

Today was Career Day on campus.

Career Day is nothing more than a career fair specifically geared at college students. A buttload of companies (don’t worry, I didn’t say buttload in front of anyone there) show up and set up booths and you talk to them and you hand them a resume and then… I don’t really know. Something happens. They sift through the three hundred resumes at the end of the night and set up interviews for some of them, I guess? I handed out 11, because the number of companies interested in a person with a masters degree in statistics is depressingly low, and I expect to hear from maybe four of them. I will immediately tell one of those calls that I’m not interested – it sounded fun at the time, but now I realize that it’s the quintessential Boulder software company, and I would hate everyone and everything about it inside six months.

It’s good to know yourself.

The most frustrating part of my day, though, went like this:

I wanted to talk to a company that does some sort of television… something. Honestly I don’t remember, because no one ever showed up at their booth and it doesn’t matter anyway. Whoever they were, their empty booth was next to the Navy booth. So I kept swinging by, and every time this dude at the Navy booth caught my eye and I nodded and just kept going…

And then, one time, he caught me. He saw my nametag, which had my name, major, and degree on it, and asked if I was interested in teaching.

I am interested in teaching, so I was like …. ok, what up, yo. He tells me about this instructor position that they have at a nuclear school in Charlotte, NC. (The school isn’t nuclear, they just teach nuclear stuff). Apparently they have a need for math instructors. He gave me the full sale – the benefits, the wages, the fact that you leave after four years with experience. And then he asked when I got my bachelors degree, and I told him, and then he asked how old I was.

I’m 31, I say.

He drags me to every other navy person there (and there were quite a few) asking if I could get a waiver for being 31. I was a little insulted, honestly. He never told me what was wrong with being 31, just that it was something that needed to be waived. Finally, someone tells him that yeah, it can probably be waived. Everyone else in the vicinity of the booth at that point was aware that I was probably the oldest person at the career fair, but hey – that can be waived.

That established, he looks down at my arm and asks if my tattoo is real.

No, I drew purple flowers on myself for Career Day.

Yes, it’s real.

Again with the waiver – except this time everyone needs to look at the size of my hand in comparison to the size of my tattoo.

This fellow was working very, very hard to recruit me, and I appreciated that.

I also left the booth feeling like an ancient painted lady.

I will not be joining the Navy.

with a vengeance

Monday, February 6th, 2012

I subscribe to Marie Claire magazine. I had a whole bunch of expiring frequent flyer points and no plans to travel, so used them to subscribe to Marie Claire, Harper’s Baazar, W, and The Economist. I have yet to actually read The Economist, but I like that it comes to our house with my name on the front.

I like Marie Claire. In this issue, I got to read a pre break-down interview with Demi Moore as well as a semi-fluffy profile of Nikki Haley (Republican South Carolina governor, possible 2016 presidential nominee). I also got to see some pretty clothes on some pretty people. It’s generally a win-win. Sure, the ‘money matters’ section did offer the tip that marrying for money is ‘then’ and being your own breadwinner is ‘now’. (Their definition of ‘now’ is apparently pretty flexible.) I had to read the article about the amazing autistic artist who wasn’t diagnosed for some time because autism is more easily diagnosed in males (due to social preconceptions) to avoid throwing the magazine.

The second to last article in this issue (Feb 2012) is called Single Bridezillas. Here’s a sample:

… Ruth, a 38-year-old Barnard graduate [ed: is this Marie Claire code for lesbian? It's not clear] turned lawyer, is actively planning her wedding despite the fact that she’s single. “When I was 22, I bought two ring settings: one for a large diamond and a backup setting for a smaller diamond,” she says. “I’ve also purchased a vintage wedding gown… My dream is to have a wedding as magical as – don’t laugh – the one in Twilight: Breaking Dawn…. I feel pressured to get engaged, and it makes me fantasize about the kind of wedding I want someday.”

Twilight reference aside (I haven’t seen the movie and for all I know the wedding is breathtaking and the woman isn’t just a big Edward fan), I found this entire statement heartbreaking. Here is a presumably successful woman who is spending time actively purchasing things for a wedding to a person that she has not yet met. Of all of the goals she could be planning towards, that is one that she feels strongly enough about to be quoted in a magazine.

Further along in the article, the author mentions a board on the website TheKnot.com, a wedding planning website.

The board is called ‘Not Engaged Yet’.

This was the point at which I sputteringly read this whole thing out loud to Crockett. I finished with, “It’s just so sad that the wedding industrial complex is profitting from these woman who are socially cued to think this is the most important thing they can be doing.”

Crocket said, “Wedding Industrial Complex?”

I explained that weddings are a ~$160 billion/year business, we moved on, and I opened up The Knot to search for the message board. Sure enough, it exists, and is basically what it purports to be – a place for women who are not engaged but want to plan their weddings to chat with and support each other. (Today they also seemed to be really into cutting a hole in a piece of bread and sticking a cat’s head through it as well, which doesn’t really help counteract any single lady stereotypes, but to each her own.)

I don’t blame these women for wanting what they want. Not knowing the details of their situations, I can’t even blanket them with the assumption that the WIC, with some help from Disney, made them this way.

I once read that the average woman thinks about her weight and what she has and should do to affect that weight several times per hour. Accordingly, the average woman is hungry more often than the average man, because she is aware of the impact of consumption. The article suggested that women, overall, would be more successful if they could stop stressing about being fat. (Problematic, yes, but not the topic at hand.)

If that is in fact even sort of true, what does planning a wedding that isn’t an actual wedding doing? I have known women while they worked with their fiances to plan weddings, and it’s serious business. Even if you’re doing it without a deadline, it can’t be easy. Is it a hobby, like knitting, or is it an actual distraction from the things they could be doing?

People of my generation are getting married later and less frequently, and the Marie Claire article suggests that now that marriage is a ‘choice’ for woman, we’ve romanticized it more than ever before. If that’s the case, though, where are the ‘not engaged yet’ marriage boards for men? Weddings have always been in the bride’s domain, and whether that’s right or not, a wedding is clearly not about marriage if the plan is in place before the groom is identified.

Along with a perfect body, a perfect wedding seems to be something that we, as young(ish) woman, are told we should have; and apparently we’re going after it, even if we’re missing that crucial detail of who is on the end of the aisle.

pink and red

Friday, February 3rd, 2012

I can’t say anything about the Susan G. Komen Foundation’s clearly political decision to defund Planned Parenthood that hasn’t already been said better by someone else. Those links outline the hypocrisy in the Foundation’s stated reason for defunding and the (depressing) state of women’s healthcare that makes Planned Parenthood so necessary in the first place.

Now, though, I am both disgusted by and embarrassed for Komen. To defund was ridiculous. To reinstate, with bullshit explanations, was the right call but poorly done. The statement Komen released effectively says ‘god, guys, fine. We didn’t do anything wrong, but if you’re going to get all sensitive about it we’ll take it back. For now, anyway.’

I have a pink stand mixer. And pink license plates. I acknowledge that I bought them more because I was going through a pink phase and liked that I could justifty pinkness with some social cred. I’ve since learned that the marketing surrounding pink is actually not particularly helpful when it comes to altering people’s behavior with regard to breast cancer. In other words, perhaps more people bought pink stuff because they were like me when I bought my mixer. I don’t do regular breast exams (yes, I am aware that I should). I don’t walk or run for ‘the cure’. I don’t talk to my friends about their risk factors for breast cancer. I do have a pink mixer and pink license plates, and honestly? I’m not even sure that there was a charitable donation associated with those purchases. I think there was, but I would, wouldn’t I?

Komen’s foundation didn’t make their decision with the highest emphasis on the health of women, but neither did I when I brought pink things into my life.

I am holding them to a higher standard than I hold myself, and that makes me feel bad – but then I remember that I’m not a charity and I feel better.

I just want good things to happen for women, and I want the organizations that purport to be for women to want the same thing.

Maybe I’ll start buying red stuff instead.