Diary of an Honours Student, Week Four

What can you do when doing a Higher Degree by Research really starts to get you down?  If you're anything like me, this presents a special conundrum- reading, your usual pastime, is now a job.  You need to do something that doesn't involve straining your eyes.  Something that both indulges your neglected senses and vents your frustration.

My friends, I am here to reintroduce you to the concept of baking.

I'd never been big on cooking.  That had always been someone else's job.  I mean, eugh.  Doing the dishes?  NO THANK YOU.  I was too busy reading books.

When I discovered in the last year that I actually quite enjoy baking, I was a little worried.  "Self," I said to myself.  "You're going to get fat."  But, touch wood, it hasn't happened yet, and I believe that comes down not just to exercise (because I don't always do that) but to the fact that the act of baking itself is quite satisfying... by the time you have finished, you really only need to eat one.  Plus all the mixture you guzzle on the way.  (Seriously, guys, exercise is VERY important, especially with you spending all day in that office chair.  Go outside, you pasty thing!)

I'm going to let you in on a little secret now.

Are you ready?

Baking is cathartic.  Just like punching your pillow, or screaming into it, or hitting your siblings (don't hit your siblings), there is something about putting ingredients in your electric mixer and mixing the living daylights out of them that just makes you feel good.  That egg you just cracked?  It cracked perfectly, there were no guzzies in it, and most importantly, it didn't want to talk about transmodiology with you.  This is why baking from a packet simply won't work for stress relief.  Ripping open a packet, adding egg and water just isn't the same.  Baking is a science.  As History Boy often tells me (and perhaps it is a quote), baking is a science for hungry people.

Today, I made cupcakes from this book:

Okay, okay, so Marian Keyes isn't Nigella Lawson... but if you read the introduction, you'll see that Marian gets it.  She understands the stress and depression relieving qualities of making a cute cake.  

After having a read of this book, History Boy and I coined a phrase.  "Don't have a sad, have a cupcake."

So here is my attempt at Marian's Consistently Reliable Cupcakes, page 56.  You'll note that only one of them has piped icing, as I managed to split my piping bag... it was a bit cheap.  Also, the recipe makes twice as much icing as I would recommend for this many cupcakes.  Just a head's up.

Tea anyone?

Diary of an Honours Student, Week Three

Let's get down to business.

My mum says that there is a phenomenon experienced by new mothers in which the mother spends all day at home with the baby, and therefore is so starved for adult conversation that when her significant other comes home, she smothers them with talk.  And maybe this other person does not WANT to talk.  Maybe they've been at work all day, talking to morons and jackasses, and they just want to be silent for the next hour.

Well, think of my thesis like a baby.  Most days, I have to get up and deal with my thesis.  I go to class to learn how to take care of it.  I go to the library to get it things.  I feed it the knowledge that I get from books and articles.  I clean it up, and change it.  I do these things alone, in my room with the door shut and only the dog for company.  It gets a little overwhelming considering that I do these things in stints of a few hours/ most of the daylight at a time.  It gets lonely only having a dog and some books for company.  Gosh, I never thought that I would say that.

Anyway, it's been brought to my attention that I may have this New Parent Syndrome, and having had some time to think about it, I'd like to share some coping techniques.

1.  Get out of the House


If your nerves are absolutely frazzled from studying at home, try the library.  Try a cafe.  Try somewhere where there are other people around so that you can prove to yourself that the world has not suddenly fallen away while you were working on your thesis.

2. Reward Yourself


Tell yourself that you will go to a movie on Friday if you get enough words done during the week.  Treat yourself to a walk by the river.  Watch television when you take your break.  Remember that just because you're doing a higher degree by research, it doesn't mean that you have to stop doing the things you enjoy.  No one expects you to be studying Friday night, and if you've done your work during the week, you can go dancing.

3. Be Willing to Compromise


If you want to talk to your boyfriend/ girlfriend/ best friend/ family member and catch up, be aware that they've got their own stuff going on too.  Shift your phone call to after dinner instead of right after they get in the door.  You don't have to give up human contact altogether.

4. Be Assertive


Make sure the people in your life know what you need.  Use your big person words.  "I need you to make time to have a coffee with me."  "I need you to come over this week."  "I need a really big bottle of wine."

5. Branch Out


Like a big green, leafy academic tree.  You don't have to tell all your woes to one person.  That poor person has their own stuff to deal with.  Think about the problem that you are dealing with, and who would be the best person in your life to talk about it with.  Who can give you perspective?  Problems with your thesis are best talked over with your supervisor, your peer or sometimes your parents/ older siblings if they've done university.

Also remember that variety is the spice of life.  That class member you added on Facebook, who you think is really cool?  They'll be your friend on Facebook, what's to say they won't in real life?  Invite someone new out for a coffee after class and get your life out of cyberspace and into reality from time to time.

6. Schedule Your Time


You don't need to know what you'll be doing every second of every day, but you do need to know that between 9 and 5 weekdays, for example, your mind is on your thesis.  Tell your friends about your plan so that they can contact you when you're NOT busy.  And try to stay off Facebook/ Twitter/ Tumblr/ Blogger while you're working.

7. Remember WHY you are doing this


You have a goal.  It is an important goal.  You need your thesis to get there.  Therefore, you love your thesis, it is your baby.  Give it a name.  Give it a working title.  Introduce it to your friends.  Put your best effort into it.

(For instance, I am trying to think of a really interesting, non gender specific name for my thesis that is quite Australian.  Any suggestions?)



All that being said, it's time for me to get my nose in a book.  I hope that this has been helpful.  Thanks for checking in!

Diary of an Honours Student: Week Two

If you missed out on me explaining what my Honours Thesis is, click here.

Well, folks, things are looking up.  While the sun is still shining, it's no longer sweltering out and I was even able to bring my pink jeans out of retirement this week.  People are smiling, cupcakes are being eaten, and I haven't spent a single lecture this week reading the Unit Guide as slow as humanly possible while a lecturer laughs self consciously and says things like "Don't get too overwhelmed now."

That being said, this week started off pretty strangely.

On Monday, after a lecture on HOW TO USE THE LIBRARY (As if I haven't been at the University for three years already... well, actually, no some of the stuff she said was new to me...) I went home.  I said to myself, "Self, today you are going to knuckle down and just get on with it."  I even wrote myself a little list; Track down articles that I identified as possibly useful from the bibliography of another article, transfer all Honours documents to a portable hard drive, get my laptop talking to the printer, and read at least 100 pages of Richard Nile's The Making of the Australian Literary Imagination.  So, I came in, and I sat down at my desk, and I opened the lid of my computer, opened a browser and I actually got on the AusLit database and started looking for those articles.  And I didn't stop until I found them.  All the while I was thinking, "Self, this is too good to be true, last week you spent a heap of time procrastinating and stuff.  Well done, Self."  Anyway, it turned out one of the articles I had on my list wasn't an article at all.  It was a book.  So I skipped merrily over to the Uni Library website (of course I mean this figuratively, you can't skip on the internet unless you, you know, scan yourself into the computer and become an avatar.  Duh.) and I typed in the name of the book and... it was out.  It wasn't just out on loan, either, it was out on long term loan until the end of semester.  It was out until June.  This told me two things.

 1) It told me that the person who had it out was either staff, or doing a postgrad/ research degree like myself.
2)  It told me that if I was really serious about needing this book, I was going to have to toughen up, be a bit of a bitch, and recall the book.

So, I took a deep breath, and I recalled it.  And if I recalled it from you, dear reader, I'm really sorry and I hope we can still be friends.  By the way, your hair looks fantastic.

I started to get a bit of an eerie feeling then, but I ignored it.  Later, I decided I'd plug one of the names of the authors I'm writing on into the Library Website, just to see what came up.  To my horror, the Library's copy of the book I was doing my thesis on was also out.  No big deal, really, because I have my own copy (signed, thank you very much) except that this book was ALSO out until the end of semester.

"Self," I said, "I think someone is doing the same topic as you."

This just made me determined to work harder.  Once I find this person, I will probably have to duel them.  This means it is time for a montage, in which I study surrounded by large piles of books and fall asleep in my notebook with my glasses askew (yes, I did borrow this analogy from Buffy.)



A few hours later, my neighbour decided to mow his lawn.

How boring, you say.  Lawn mowing.  You yawn, to illustrate how very bored you are.

But wait, there's more.  My neighbour owns the Barry White of all lawnmowers.  He drags it over the bricks at about 5 at night when the sun is just starting to get lower in the sky and the fading light is making me sleepy.  Scraaaaaaaape go the bricks.  And Barry White the lawnmower begins to sing.

My hands go to my ears.  My palms begin to sweat.  I grab great chunks of my own hair and have to stop myself from pulling them out.  It is like nails on a blackboard, the sound of Barry White the lawnmower munching on lawn.  Doesn't he know I am trying to study in here?!

My mother comes home.  "Mum!" I wail.  "John is mowing the lawn again!"  She looks at me oddly.  "So?"  I abandon this thread of conversation, not getting the sympathy that I want.  After about forty minutes, the mowing stops but I am in full sensory overload by that point.  I am fit to explode, all my nerve endings tingling, and I lie on my bed in a half foetal position.  I speak to History Boy on the phone, and he tells me to "Toughen up, Princess."  He is right.  Mum is right.  BUT THE THESIS MONSTER HAS ME IN ITS TALONS AND MUST BE OBEYED.  I shower, wash the stress down the drain, and then use this interesting little mental breakdown of mine to write a paranoid thriller set in the suburbs about a neighbour who tortures people by mowing the lawn at midnight.




Tuesday was not so eventful.  (And gosh, I hope you're still reading... this is turning into a looooong post.)  I made a list again.  Laundry, finish book, transfer notes to exegesis plan (no, I don't know what that word really means either), read articles.  In the morning, I began one of my assignments, then I went to the Library where it is literally only 10 degrees at the moment to make up for the fact that the aircon has been on the fritz all summer long.  I found (most) of the books I needed, checked them out, and then went to writing club.  (If you don't know about my writing group, you should click here.)  I met with my supervisor.  We discussed many things, chief among them relevant things, but also movies from the 1970s I should watch, student reactions to controversial books, and what I should do with my lawnmower tale.  I came home.  I finished the rest of my list... er... mostly... and then I went for a walk.

On this walk, I spent a fair bit of time with my bare feet in the river, looking at the city, because I was feeling sentimental.



And then, there was Wednesday.  Today.

This was the class I was dreading.  Imagine this.  A tiny class with an extremely high functioning, newly-become-a-Doctor running it, with energetic, intelligent drama students in it, plus one older woman who is doing a literature thesis and talks like a teacher, plus me in a T-shirt with a turtle on it, talking about Frederic Jameson's the Culture of Late Capitalism and Postmodernism.

Did your imagination look anything like this?

Well gee, thanks a lot, your faith in me is heart warming.

Lost my train of thought while I was drawing that... OH YEAH.  So, I got into the class.  And we started the lecture and I KNEW WHAT THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT.   In fact, I had an opinion on it.  And I shared that opinion.  And people agreed with me!

I started thinking to myself... "Self, you are actually pretty smart."

And I ended the class feeling like I'd learned something.  Plus, in the hall, one of the other class members told me to have a nice day.  :)

So, on the whole, I think things are looking up.

Perth Writers Festival 2012

(It's probably just me, but whenever I write "Writers Festival", I always feel I should be writing "Writers' Festival."  I mean, the rule for placement of apostrophes is "Whose item is it?  Place the apostrophe after the answer."  So e.g. Who owns the shoes?  The boy.  They are the boy's shoes.  Who is the festival for?  The Writers.  So it is the Writers' Festival.  But apparently not.  Must remember that.)

ANYWAY.

Sleepy little (lovely little) Perth had its socks rocked this weekend by the arrival of the literati.  They swept in from their garrets, wearing capes, rose coloured glasses with circular lenses and carrying bongo drums.  Okay, so perhaps they were a bit more... normally... dressed, but Frank Moorhouse DID have red suspenders. 

A must-visit event for writers and readers alike, the festival promised (among other things) fiction writers, journalists, chefs/cooks, historians and general smarty-pantses.  This year, I showed dedication to my craft, and took the Saturday off work to go.  I was accompanied by the charming Miss Jade Carver, of Jade Goes with Everything fame.

This kind of event always makes me feel like a serious writer.  It makes me want to write, it helps me approach my projects in new ways, and it makes me humble.  There is nothing stranger than going to an event where a packed audience all wants the same thing as you.  What is it about me that makes me special?  I found myself thinking.  What makes me think I deserve it more than any of these people?  

After all, I can't take a photo without sticking my thumb in it...

The sessions that we took in were Tom Hungerford and his Literary Legacy, Reimagining the Future, Location, Location, Location and Writing and Ethics.  I ended the day with a reading by my favourite author, Craig Silvey.

A big plus this year was the West Australian newspaper tent, with comfy deckchairs and wicker seating.  I felt like a character from A Passage to India, sans the Gin and Tonic.  Plus, there were cross words.

I barely had to use Goodreads to finish this...

My favourite sessions of the day were the ones that really got me thinking about Honours.  Reimagining the Future was the biggest surrpise of the day, giving this HISTORICAL fiction writer perspective on how to write about the past.  Location, Location, Location was wonderful, though I couldn't see a thing, and what I learned will be invaluable to me when writing settings.  And a big kudos to Craig for being brave and sharing a bit of his new novel.  I am so excited that he's writing about the 1920s!

Were you at the writers festival?  Did you have an awesome time?  What really got your brain cogs turning?

One day, I hope to be on the stage, rather than just watching it...

Review: Boy on a Wire by Jon Doust

I thought I would kick off a new round of reviews today and just give you a little taste of the kind of literature that I am trying to promote.  

Jon Doust's Boy on a Wire was published in 2009, and is a memoir style fiction about growing up in Western Australia during the 1960s.  The book's protagonist, Jack Muir, comes up from Glenoralup (near Bunbury?) to begin his years at the suitably vague 'Grammar School', an Anglican (?) school for boys that we are told is near a river.  My guess is that it is supposed to be Guildford Grammar, although the book's acknowledgements site Christ Church as being a reference.  I think that the setting is supposed to be largely amorphous- the school could be any boys school at the time, the trials faced by Jack could be anyone's trials.  And that is why we like Jack, as a reader, despite him being a trouble maker.

Jack suffers from what everyone calls 'Pink's Disease'- a build up of Mercury in his system that requires him to ingest more salt to replenish his natural stores.  He is constantly licking little piles of salt out of his palm in an attempt to try and control his bad behaviour.  Jack's bad behaviour is contrasted to his brother, Thomas's.  Thomas is the golden boy.  He gets good grades, behaves appropriately and is good with machinery.  He is a real man, unreachable to Jack, who spends a large part of his high school days wondering when he will experience the urge to 'wank' like all the other boys.  This sexual awakening is a milestone for Jack and the moment at which he will become a man.

The book is riddled with pop culture references and intertextual links.  Jack's consciousness becomes a mish mash of his idols- The Phantom, Tom Brown, the Count of Monte Cristo and Atticus Finch.  They provide him with a moral code.  After a young, potentially traumatized student is tormented by the dorm bullies, Jack takes them on one by one.  He is not the strongest or the biggest but he is fearless, and has arm muscles from chopping wood at home.  It becomes apparent that his revenge is less about 'Sack' than it is about Jack's own chip on his shoulder when 'Sack' antagonises Jack and Jack still continues to go after the boys.  What 'Sack' stands for is more important to Jack than the boy himself.  

This intertextuality is a common theme in books set around this time.  Craig Silvey's Jasper Jones also deals with a protagonist who looks for answers in novels from other countries- To Kill a Mockingbird, Huckleberry Finn.  

I liken this book to Salinger's Catcher in the Rye in that it is predominately about an emotional journey, a downward awakening if you will.  The conclusion to the novel leaves you worrying for Jack, as he is at his 'worst' yet by conventional standards, but also hopeful because Doust makes it clear that Jack has discovered his self.  It is a muted book, the narrator seems to view everything at a distance, and yet this seems to follow the sleepy pace of Perth life.  And it is about life, this book, about Doust's life and the lives of others like him.  

I was disappointed at times by the way that themes were picked up but never fully resolved- the plotline with Jack's grandfather adds drama but is then let to fizzle out off the page.  Thomas's head injury always seems like it will reveal a twist, a permanent mental deformity that will explain some of Jack's troubles, but it never does.  I was also disappointed to have found several typos in the edition- the wrong use of too.  

This was a very useful and very though provoking read.

3 out of 5 beaten down bullies.