oh, it makes me mad!

Imagine me sitting at home growling. Why am I growling, you ask? It's quite simple, really. Once again, I am questioning the purpose of the existence of academics and postgraduate students.

I went to a Postgrad Symposium for Humanities students today at the university I attend, Canterbury. Discussion: The end of the Humanities? (Literature, history, philosophy...)

It's disillusioning, you know, having to sit there listening to people who know how to talk the talk, know how to be provocative, know how to ARGUE - because that's what we "humanities" are good at - and disagreeing fundamentally with most of what is being said. According to one speaker, who is very eminent and very gifted and all that but who, I find, is on a completely different wavelength to mine, what the Humanities need to do to survive is to marry philosophy of the history of aesthetics with Darwinian psychology. Er, really? And how is your particular research interest, sir, practically supposed to work itself out? How exactly will this attract students? And how do you propose to make everyone think in the same framework?

Then you have to listen to people saying that maybe what the Humanities really need to do is to work out how to communicate to The Public so we can get more funding.

Or people saying that things have changed now and how worrying it is that modern third-year students refuse to read a 500-page novel for an undergraduate English paper; instead they'll just make something up when asked about it and it will sound okay.

And here is my opinion. (You knew that it was coming, right?)

The one thing I agreed on with the professor mentioned above was that the Humanities weren't killed; they committed suicide in the 70s and 80s. Suicide by deconstructionalism and postmodernism.

You want to know why the Humanities are disappearing from the priorities of government, university bosses and the public? It's because of cynicism. Cynicism created by academics whose sole purpose in life is to get more funding, like in the comment I mentioned above. More funding so they can put out more postmodern s*** that tells us that basically everything we do is meaningless and we can't ever know anything and "the fact" is an incredibly suspect idea. Cynicism created by departments like the English department at my university, who taught me so well that by the time I was in my final undergraduate year of my BA, I could churn out an English essay that I knew very well would get an A or an A+ because I'd figured out how to play the system; how to give the lecturers what they wanted, on questions I couldn't care less about or giving answers I fundamentally despised. You are taught very well by the Humanities, taught how to appear rebellious or original or boundary-pushing but how to all say the same thing, or how to all agree with your lecturer.

The only reason I didn't become completely disillusioned with the Humanities was that I had a history lecturer who cared very, very much about his topic and what he was teaching. I got idealistic. I became convinced that History is important, that it matters, that the memory of things like Stalin, the Crusades, the Holocaust, the Inquisitions, et cetera NEED TO BE PRESERVED. We must know why people did these things or put up with these things. We must keep our portrayal of our history honest. It won't necessarily regulate our own society today but we must try.

The Humanities must become humanitarian. We must care about what we study, we must let it affect our lives today, we must communicate this passion to our society. People want to care about what they do. They don't want to sit there listening to some angry, bitter lecturer deconstructing their favourite novel into a morass of constructs. What they want is something that matters.

What do Marx, three-year-old nieces and paeonia moutans have in common?

I sit in an office quite a lot, thinking about history, writing about history, researching history - oh, and facebooking (a concept so crucial to time-wasters that it has become a verb). This year the walls of my little cubicle are MADE of red pin-board type material, and the temptation to cover them with Things is just too great. I am not by a window, so this substitutes as the window out which I gaze when pondering. More will be added, I have no doubt, but for now, here is My Window. (I apologise for the quality of the photo; I took it with my webcam.)

Middle: Karl Marx. His tombstone at Highgate Cemetery, possibly my favourite of the places I visited in London. When I look at this I get a delicious chill running down my spine; it also is kind of relevant to my interest in Soviet history.

Bottom left: "Rendezvous", the famous 1939 political cartoon by David Low. This is an incredibly cool cartoon just on appearances alone, but once you understand a little of the history it simply thrills me, and I love it more and more every time I look at it. Hitler and Stalin, sworn enemies for the entire 1930s, completely scathing about each other - right up until 1939, when suddenly they sign a non-aggression pact, shocking the world, and take over Poland together, like good chums.

To the right: Marc Chagall's stained glass window based on Psalm 150, which is housed in Chichester Cathedral, which I visited in the south of England. I love the concept of modern stained glass, especially when it's sooo pretty, and so expressive of the psalm. In fact, I did a whole blog post on it.

To the right: Paeonia moutan, a postcard I bought at Kew Gardens in London, and then decided to keep, not send, since it was purty.

Bottom right: A postcard sent recently from Bretagne, France, by one of my best friends, who travelled in Europe with me before going to start a job in Bretagne. SUCH a beautiful picture and it reminds me of my friend whom I miss heaps!

Middle left: A famous poster of Lenin, bought as a postcard from Memento Park in Budapest. I particularly like that I can understand the Russian words on it: "Lenin lived, Lenin lives, Lenin will live!"

Above left: A painting I saw at the National Gallery, London: "Christ before the High Priest", by Gerrit van Honthorst. It doesn't translate incredibly well onto postcard-sized card, but the full-sized painting was just amazing; the use of light and dark was so effective; everything about it was expressive, and I LOVED it.

To the right: A photo I took of a sunrise in Dunedin, from the park next door to my sister's house. (I blogged about it here.) I recently bought a colour printer and printed this off and was very pleased with the result. I have to say, this is the picture that distracts me the most because it's sooo pretty.

To the right again: my niece, two and a half at the time, riding a donkey at the local zoo with an over-sized helmet and a huge happy grin on her face.

Middle right: picture by said niece, drawn recently for my birthday. She is only just three, but she wrote my name on the top left corner!! Yup, she's a genius.

serves me right

Well, it just serves me right for being a snobby postgraduate. For the last two years of postgrad study, I've avoided exams - up until now. 'Ha! Undergrads!' I thought, swivelling on my swivelly office chair, drinking free coffee, complaining to the College of Arts because we don't have pinboards on our doors anymore. 'They don't know what hard work is!'

And then I decided to take a first-year paper this year - Russian language. I decided it would be fine for me to up and leave the country for two months, and then just catch up when I got back. It's a 100-level course, right? Can't be that hard? The exam'll be a breeze!

Well, I've spent the last week studying Russian verbs, vocabulary, cases, grammar. Memorising three months' missed classes. Feeling guilty day and night because I wasn't working hard enough. Beating my head against a brick wall going "it's soooooo haaaaaarrrrd, I hate exams, heghhhhh".

And now the exam is over and I am exhausted. Really looking forward to getting back to my thesis. I apologise, undergrads. Exams suck. I will never downplay their horror again.

As an interesting aside, below is the result of one my moments of procrastination this week:

disclaimer: will definitely contain mistakes

Я так плохо говорю по-русски, и пишу по-русски, и читаю по-русски.

I am really bad at speaking Russian, and writing Russian, and reading Russian.

Кроме того, я не ходила на много классы.

Besides, I did not go to many classes.

Теперь, я должен учиться.

Now, I must study.

Пожалуйстa, экзамен, ___ симпатичный меня. *

Please, exam, be nice to me.

Твой, Элей

Yours, Allie

* I couldn't figure out how to command the exam to 'be' nice to me, so I left the verb space blank.

writer's block

I have been trying to think of something to write about for what feels like ages now, so that you no longer have to look at bright blue and pink cupcakes every time you open this page. Unfortunately, I'm slowly falling into the state of mind I fell into last year when I first started getting into my research - being unable to think about any ideas beyond the very beginning of them, unless they are somehow related to my study. So the blog post today is a blog post of fragments:

- I have just been reading a speech that was read at the Second National Congress of Peace and Friendship with the U.S.S.R., in London, 1937. The speaker was Mr. Dingle Foot. Perchance the funniest name ever?

- On Monday I am meeting the Prime Minister of New Zealand. I didn't vote for his party and I would prefer it to be the former PM, but still - it's kind of exciting!

- My two-year-old niece is in love with Jeff, from the Wiggles. If you haven't come across this children's entertainment group, well, don't go rushing to buy a DVD. However, she loves them, and especially Jeff, who is always sleepy. She has had dreams about him, and she insists on wearing a "sleeping hat" to bed because Jeff always wears one. She informs me and everyone else just about every time I see her: "I like purple. Jeff is purple. He's always sleeping."

- I graduated about a month ago, complete with funny hat and Harry Potter/gospel choir gown and pink hood. I could have graduated a year ago with my BA but decided to wait until I had my BA (Hons) degree. It was fun - we got to march through town, police holding up traffic for us, led by a bagpiper, and then to file into the Town Hall to the blare of a pipe organ. Walking across the stage, trying to remember to hold your trencher in your left hand, smile, shake with the right, take certificate with the right, put on trencher with the strings hanging over the left edge, then walk down the stairs without tripping - I know we all have university qualifications, but that's complicated!!!

warning - may contain long-winded whinging

Those of you who are friends with me on facebook will probably have thought that my status updates for the last little while are really quite whingey, and if you're not from New Zealand, you probably won't have a clue what I'm complaining about. "Allie wonders if Studylink was set up simply to distract students from their study." "Allie should be awarded a diploma in negotiating with government and university departments over a long period of time and managing to stay calm." I've joined a facebook group that is called: "Dealing with Studylink is more challenging than my degree."

Those who have to live with me have also noticed a peculiar level of aggression in their flatmate. I emerge from my room at odd times, knock on their door, and proceed to tell them everything that has managed to go wrong with my enrolment, and now with my Studylink applications. I make phone calls to Studylink, and after hanging up, start screaming or grinding my teeth in a menacing fashion.

For those lucky readers of this blog who don't have to deal with New Zealand universities or government departments, Studylink is the department of the government that deals with student loans and student allowances. Yes, I get free money from the government for part of my living costs, because my parent earns under a certain threshold. Technically, I should be very thankful to Studylink for providing me with funds, and I am...

And yet, in reality, my student allowance is my legal entitlement. And Studylink have managed to muck up my application in just about every possible way this year.

First of all, my enrolment with the university took a ridiculously long time (not Studylink's fault). The entire History department had to approve my proposal before I could even get enrolled, and once that was approved, my enrolment was lost somewhere in the computer system of the College of Arts. After four or so weeks of waiting (living off my savings and borrowing from my father), the enrolment finally went through. Hooray! Now I can start eating again!

Or so I thought.

First, Studylink claimed that I still wasn't enrolled. Back and forth, back and forth, between the university and Studylink - finally, they admit I am a student.

Second, Studylink claimed that I wasn't a full-time student, and therefore am not entitled to my allowance. [If doing a Masters degree PLUS an undergraduate course in Russian doesn't make you full-time, I don't know what does.] After several phone calls, they told me just to wait, and it would get sorted out in the next few days.

Next, after several more phone calls, they told me I had to make two separate applications for the one student allowance - one application for my Russian course, and one application for my MA. In my second application, I have to send in all the same information again - my father's income, proof of money I'll be receiving - even though I've sent in the exact same information for my other application.

So it looks like I won't be receiving student allowance this week. Seven weeks into the semester, and Studylink + the university have managed to muck up almost every aspect of my enrolment. I am hundreds of dollars in debt because I haven't had the means to pay for my rent/food, and I am stressed and ready to rip my hair out when I should be studying.

When I am a dictator, I am going to reform bureaucracy or just get rid of it altogether. That alone will give me total power because everyone will love me for it.

Sorry about the long whinge. I really needed to get that off my chest.

taking a deep breath and calming down

Why I am now feeling happier than I was on Wednesday:

- I am actually researching a fascinating topic. Took me a while to remember that, but now that my terror has cattle-prodded me into working hard, I am starting to get really excited.

- I am not stupid; I simply am TEACHABLE. A whole lot of empty space in my head is not a bad thing. It means I have a mind that is open to different possibilities and not decided already on one conclusion.

- I actually already know a lot about my topic, given that I looked at a very similar area last year, and so I am in a much better place than most other Masters students at the same stage as me.

- Being a florist is not as romantic as I had thought. Thanks to all the sensible people who commented on my last post, pointing out all the cons of getting up early, dealing with bridezillas, slicing one's hand open with thorns, etc.

- Some people want to give me money to study. They can't be completely mistaken in my abilities, because people don't give away money generously without being very careful about it.

- Although this stage of my study (reading what everyone else has written about this subject) is not always very fun or rewarding, the stage that comes next, and takes up most of my time (looking at primary documents) will be FANTASTIC. I hope.

SOS

Please, blogosphere, send me some love. I am feeling really, really dumb, and I have an impending sense of doom about the year ahead of me.

I have just sent my sister this text message: "Masters is HORRIBLE. I don't know how you got through a PhD. I just feel so stupid!"

She replied: "You've made it. That's the whole objective."

Why, why, didn't I become a florist? It was a perfectly reasonable fantasy. No, I had to do the "sensible" thing and come to university.

Meanwhile, I am drowning my sorrows in:

wine and Whittaker's hazelnut chocolate;

while cooking - rhubarb pie, my favourite.

It wasn't supposed to get burnt but it still tasted goooood, and made me feel slightly better.

why oh why?

I have just decided to do a Masters degree. Eek!

It was always on the cards, but I didn't really make up my mind until this last week, and I was pretty blasé about it, considering it the safe option that logically followed my Honours year and wouldn't require much more pressure.

Have suddenly realised I am incredibly unintelligent when it comes to predicting my future. I am freaking out. When it comes down to it and I actually have to put some work into finding a topic, I realise that suddenly I am studying at an academic level at which originality is crucial, and all the topics I had in mind have been done already. I realise that I am plunging into a world where I will not be having weekly meetings with my supervisor, like last year, nor his constant guidance; where the entire Department of History staff are going to hear my proposal and grill me on it, in a few short weeks from now; where famous historians are going to read the end product (if, indeed, I finish) and tell me what's wrong with it. *long, drawn-out scream*

Why am I doing this to myself? What possesses people to take on postgraduate study? I have a horrible fear that suddenly everyone will realise that everything I've done so far that has turned out to be halfway good has been a complete fluke.

2008

So my academic year is over, and I am no longer an inhabitant of the Honours Room. Honestly, I feel like I should be declared Citizen, or at least Resident, of it because I've spent so much time there this year. It's almost sad to go, especially when I think that hardly any of the people who have made this year so much fun will be continuing next year.

In honour of them and in honour of the big room full of desks that became like a second home, I present ... [drum roll] ... HONOURS ROOM QUOTES of 2008. These were recorded faithfully over the year on four big pieces of paper we had stuck on the wall. Some were quotes from history books we happened to be reading which we found particularly amusing, others were quotes from us which were particularly funny, especially out of context. I'm not including all, because some could be interpreted as ... inappropriate. But almost everything we said this year that we thought worthy of immortality is on this post.

The characters have been listed before, in the Honours Room Murder Mystery. But one term you may need to know is:
480 - this was the university coding for our Research Paper/dissertation/thesis - whatever you would like to call it.

Wisdom of historians

"Only in terms of alcohol consumption was the East outstripping the West."
Mazower on Eastern Europe under Communism.

"When I was first a research student, my supervisor said to me, quite seriously, at the end of the first term: 'Now don't work every day of the vacations; do take Christmas Day off.' I fear that I took Boxing Day off as well."
Elton.

"Shakespeare predicts Trotsky betraying the Soviet Union for Fascism."
Lion Feuchtwanger.

Walter Duranty on the 1932-33 Russian famine: "There is no actual starvation or deaths from starvation but there is widespread mortality from diseases due to malnutrition."

"The cock-up theory is much better than an intentionalist theory."
Miles Fairburn.

And wisdom of the Honours students

Several of the same theme, which just had to be recorded for the utter irony...
27 April: "I think my 480's going to be quite straightforward."
Amendment #1, 1 July 2008: "Oh f***."
Eric.

3 June: "As soon as I hand in this essay, the rest of the year's going to be really really easy."
Bella.

31 July: "Screw everyone, I'm doing what I want now."
Allison.

Allie and Bella, a friendship of discovery:
Q: Why do dictators have moustaches? (Allie)
A: Because they're stupid. (Bella)

Q: Why do Marxists write in the future tense? (Allie)
A: Because they're stupid. (Bella)

Q: Anything.
A: Ask Michael [our supervisor].

Also related to our brilliant supervisor:
"Michael doesn't read books. He absorbs through osmosis."
Josh.

Out of context creepiness:
"I wish I was Stalin. You can be Trotsky, 'cos you've got glasses."
Allie. I promise you, this made perfect sense in context.

"Murder is always very relaxing."
Allie. Ditto.

"It's not mass murder, it's purifying the human race."
Nathan. Again, out of context.

"It takes a pretty honest man to send hundreds of thousands of men to their deaths."
Nathan. Seriously out of context.

Blame alcohol:
"The frog was saying, 'Eric, you're my man'."
Eric.

"There is an inherent flaw in the fact that there is beer in the fridge."
Eric.

General:
"I need to be hit with the motivation stick."
Liz.

"Kill, maim, eviscerate."
Eric.

"Mugabe doesn't count as a standard guy."
Bella.

"I'm going to go slap von Ranke around for a little while, show him who's boss."
Eric. This needs explanation: Leopold von Ranke, the father of modern academic history, was the subject of one of Eric's essays.

"Now Allie, the Engineers Registration Act of 1924 is always relevant."
Bella.

"Roosevelt and Hitler: Brothers in Arms."
Eric. Who thought this would be a bad/awesome title for a thesis.

Coining of new words:
"Mortopsy" (Bella)
"Reconstored" (Eric)
"Chroniclology" (Eric)
"Noviet" (Allie - Nazi + Soviet)
Literary historians are "literaristorians"? "literistorians"? "literians"? "literararians"? (Allie, Bella)

And finally:
"We're here to learn?!"
Bella.

academia

Today I went to a departmental seminar about historiographical nationalism. It was a very last minute decision because it can be quite daunting going to these seminars with big scary historians, especially if you walk in late. But you get Brownie points with the staff for attending, and I think it was worth it, because academic criticism can yield quite interesting people-watching.

I wouldn't have known it, but apparently this seminar was a bit controversial. Immediately after the speaker finished, and the request had gone out for "Comments? Questions?", one of the particularly scary professors, who is rather old, fierce and stuck in his ways, gave some quite provocative-sounding criticism. At least, it sounded so to me. Then the other resident staff started putting in their two cents. It was all very amicable but given that I've just decided to do a Masters, it's terrifying watching the door open into the world of peer review and criticism. Not that we don't get criticised now - it's just we're so liable to burst into tears if they do it aggressively that I think they've learned that Honours students are not to be dealt with carelessly.

Then, as the speaker was summing up his final defence, he said: "Of course, his book is the perfect antidote for fretful sleepers."

I laughed.

A few heads turned my way. One professor who could stare down a Basilisk fixed her eyes on me for at least FIVE WHOLE SECONDS.

What did I do wrong? Wasn't that supposed to be a witty historical insult?

It wasn't until later that I realised Fretful Sleepers is a famous book in the New Zealand history world.

I think I can sum up with what one of the current Masters students said to me via Facebook a few days ago, when I was complaining about essay-writing. Hang in there, it will soon be over, and then you can come and join me in the world of self-doubt and academic criticism!

[By the way, regarding the Masters decision (as I did ask your opinion) - this isn't a rejection of the Russia trip idea but simply a postponement. I think it makes a lot more sense to do a year of undergrad Russian language at uni next year while I do my Masters, and then go, instead of plunging straight into Russia next year without a word of Russian other than "do you speak English?"]

and the winner is...

[Before you read this, see my last post, the Honours Room murder mystery]

The murderer is... Bella.

After a stash of skewers was found in her second desk, which was not originally searched (the police aren’t really all that smart), Bella confessed to the heinous crime.
“That b**** stole my coffee” she thundered. “A crime of that magnitude cannot go unpunished.” Psychologist Dr. Phil has diagnosed a nervous breakdown, due to caffeine deprivation, and Bella will spend the rest of her days at a spa in the Maldives.

Liz went on to be highly successful in her career as a P cook. George is one of her best customers, due to the shock of finding out that the unnamed man Liz and Allie were fighting over was in love with him. (Amendment: George has just gone on a killing spree…cue Murder Mystery No.2 ‘Why did George Finally Lose It?’)

Eric is now fluent in German, and has found, in contrast to Dr. Phil’s beliefs, that bat heads and heavy metal can cure cancer. He is a multi-trillionaire, and lives on the moon, because the acoustics are better.

Posthumously, Allie’s half-finished thesis has become a best seller, and she has been awarded a Pulitzer, a Booker Prize, and a Nobel Prize for Peace. The movie version (staring Tom Cruise as Stalin, Tom Cruise as Churchill, and Tom Cruise as Roosevelt, and Produced by Tom Cruise for Scientology Productions Ltd.) has been given an Oscar for best screenplay, but bombed at the box office, because people hate Tom Cruise.

Michael and Tom are on trial for the murder of Gillian, who took credit for Allie's thesis inspiration.

Allison has changed her name to Helga after she was denied copyright of the names ‘Allie’ and ‘Allison’.

Nathan has published a 30,000 word rebuttal on why Wittgenstein is not a load of c***. It has been critically acclaimed, and is written in post-structuralist form.

Tim was spotted by the CIA outside the engineering library, in Switzerland, and possibly on the Moon, visiting Eric.

Andrew now has dominance over the pie market.

who killed Allie?

This blog post is the product of:

- boredom

- all the detective novels I've been reading lately

- my tea tasting odd, leading to the obvious question of "who has poisoned me?"

- my friend Bella (not her real name), whose gracious permission has been given to publish this product of her boundless imagination.

The Honours Room Murder Mystery

Characters*:

Allie

Students: Bella, Liz, Eric, Allison, Nathan, Tim, George

Historians: Michael, Tom, Andrew, Gillian

* Most names changed

Crime:
At the end of a long, dark, rainy day (its Christchurch in the winter, after all), Gillian went down to the Honours Room to speak to Allie about how wonderfully she did in her essay, and to offer her a life time job as an academic… But, oh dear, she found poor Allie dead over another 700 page book...

Autopsy Report:
The primary cause of death was a skewer, stabbed through the back of the neck. Also present in her blood were high levels of sodium-methaline-something-a-rather, the most deadly poison known to man (created by the University of Canterbury Chemistry department, which was recently broken into). However, she was stabbed before the poison could take effect.

The Suspects:
Allie arrived at Uni at 7.30am, attended her 10am class on European History, had sushi and a bar of chocolate for lunch, went to her 1.20 class on New Zealand history, and then went to work on her marvelous, stupendous thesis at 3pm. She was found dead at 5pm. The autopsy-person was highly intoxicated and originally put her death at 11am; this has since been amended to between 3.34 and 4.45. Each of the suspects were quick to dob in each of their colleagues for approaching Allie's desk, however, none admit to talking to Allie after the last class.

Bella:

Police originally searched her desk as they had had a fight earlier in the day, over the use of kitchen items. Or possibly hand cream, priced at $12.99 (what, we’re in the middle of a recession, that’s pretty pricey…)

Liz:

It is well known that Liz and Allie were in the middle of a very large fight over the possession of a boyfriend (the fact he actually wanted George instead apparently doesn’t matter). Liz has a key to the Chemistry Department, as she is secretly starting up a P lab with one of the Chemistry lecturers….

Eric:
We couldn’t get a coherent statement from this young man, as he kept yelling in German and head banging. However a search of his desk revealed several bats with their heads bitten off. Psychologist Dr. Phil believes that this is because the evil metal music, and lack of meat, has gone straight to his head. “Y’all need to lock up your children now.”

Allison:
In amongst John’s German ramblings it has been revealed that Allie and Allison were in the middle of a dispute over copyright of the names ‘Allie’ and ‘Allison’. Both women have death threats in their desks from the other.

Nathan:

Allie was overheard telling Nathan that Wittgenstein “was a load of c***”. Nathan is reported to have had steam coming out of his ears. [For the uninformed: Wittgenstein is a German philosopher.]

Tim:

Tim is described as the dark wolf of the Honours Room. His desk is mysteriously empty, and yet he is challenging Allie for the title of Queen of Honoursland. “How is this possible,” Allie was overheard saying. “I spent 32 hours here yesterday, HE CANNOT BEAT ME.”

Michael:
Rumours are abound that Allie was about to disown Michael as her supervisor as she was about to publish her thesis, and credit someone else as the inspiration behind it.

Tom:

A message on Allie's phone from three days before reads as following:
“I think your thesis is awful, and refuse to have my name linked to it.” In response Allie began blackmailing him with the knowledge that he cheated his way into his PhD by bribing the external examiner.

Andrew:

There was only one pie left on campus… Allie got it.

Gillian:

She did find her, after all...

WHODUNNIT???

Vote now! The murder will be solved on Monday.

petty bourgeois counterrevolutionary imperialism

So, in the last few weeks there have been pretty little fliers pinned up around campus for the Workers' Party of New Zealand, with good old Che Guevara's image (because he's so much trendier than Stalin or Mao and ever so slightly less notorious) which invite students to join in the fun of creating a Communist future.

Not that I have any desire to impinge anyone else's freedom of speech (after all, I am not a Communist) or to protest anyone's fundamental human right to be an idiot ...

... but which bright spark thought it would be a good idea to pin one on the History building's notice board? History, you know? The discipline that remembers things that happened, especially the things that went badly wrong?

what happens in Vegas...

The supervisor of one of my classmates at university is a rather brilliant man who specialises in medieval French history. He went down to Dunedin for a holiday over, I think, the last weekend, and when he got back, my classmate asked him if he had a fun holiday.

"Oh yeah," he replied. "It was great. Dunedin has a really good medieval collection."

Please, please, God - let me be a historian when I grow up!

time for a break

You know you need a holiday when:

1. You are getting through work faster than you thought, so you go and ask your supervisor for more.

2. In a lecture/seminar, you drift off and spend five minutes looking around the room wondering what animal each person would be. (The lecturer: a shaggy dog.)

3. You hear a history in-joke like "What? We don't have to look at primary sources at postgrad level, do we?" and fall about hysterically laughing.

4. On a similar vein, you start collecting historical insults: eg "I can see you haven't read Foucault."

5. You start fantasising about being able to ignore all other essays/seminars/assignments and just hunker down somewhere working on your thesis day-in, day-out.

audience input needed

Because I am doing a sort of mini-thesis this year, I get to have a supervisor. My particular supervisor is wonderful, an incredibly helpful, funny and interesting Welshman whose speciality is in postwar Germany but who also has a soft spot for Soviet history, which is my area for this particular project. Because he's so great, he has four other Honours students as supervisees (is that a word?!). Today, however, me and another student (let's call her Mandy) started talking about the questions he asks us. As happened to her today, we walk into his office, all ready with our difficult questions and filled up to the ears with Soviet Russia, Social Darwinism, or whatever our particular topics happen to be. As Mandy said today, we say something like, "I just have three questions for you," and he replies something like this.

"Well, I have three questions for you."

Okaaaay. Uh-oh, he's going to ask us some incredibly difficult historically relevant questions that we will probably look like utter prats answering.

Actually, no.

"Do you like: tea or coffee after dinner? Cats or dogs? Friends or Sex and the City?"

On other occasions, it could be something like "Tell me three things you like doing in your spare time."

The other day, he asked me how things were going, I said "up and down", and he asked me to tell him one example of up, and one example of down.

So, one of the things I like about him is that he actually does take an interest in us. But when he puts you on the spot like that, especially when you've got three incredibly difficult history questions on the tip of your tongue, it can be very embarrassing. Personally, my mind goes entirely blank. One time, he said to me, "tell me something about you that I don't already know", and I stood in the doorway going "Um.... um.... um.... um..." and of course came off looking like an incredibly boring and inarticulate person.

So Mandy and I have been talking. We have decided next time we see him to turn this whole situation around on him, ask him the random questions before the meeting as such starts, and so we just need some seemingly random but interesting, non-history related questions to ask him. This is where you guys come in. Any suggestions will be much appreciated! Remember, we want to leave him at a loss for words.

voices

In the words of Freddie Mercury, I think I'm going slightly mad. Suddenly I've started noticing myself whispering to imaginary persons all the time. I imagine people I know or made-up people in conversation with me and come up with all these incredibly interesting answers. So I have been at home alone for a week, but most of my time is spent at university where I see other honours students even if no other human life crosses my path and I sit inside shrivelling into a little pile of Vitamin D-deprived caffeine-overloaded skin. Okay, moving on from that disgusting choice of self-description. The point is, it's not like I don't see people.

Besides this, I am happier than I've been in a while, being back at uni. Despite feeling completely overwhelmed. I'm excited and busy and I'm learning so much, besides finally being able to walk properly again. I get on so well with the rest of the honours class. I have my own desk with line of textbooks, map of Russia, Cyrillic alphabet chart, and family photos, and let's not forget the swivelly chair. A home away from home! (And that's nothing compared to the guy across from me who has a fruit bowl and a guitar!) Even my part-time job is so much fun right now, and I've just had a pay rise. Church is a blast and tomorrow it's Good Friday. I have to work at uni over Easter weekend (taking Sunday off) but we're all going to bring Easter eggs and hot cross buns so it really won't be that bad. My favourite tea is in good supply and I have a 6-pack of V in the fridge (my favourite energy drink). My sister sent me an incredibly cute photo by cellphone of my niece Ruby playing the piano today. I have learnt how to play the coolest Tchaikovsky piece ever on the piano. My siblings and I are organising a REALLY, wickedly awesome birthday present for my father's birthday which I know he'll love and about which I'm very excited.

So why have I started talking to myself?!?!

self-advertisement

I am applying for a history scholarship that would pay this year's fees if I won it. I don't have high hopes but I guess it's not a completely ridiculous idea either. Anyway, I have to collect two references from past lecturers to attach to my application. One reference - no problem. My current supervisor, who has been my lecturer for almost every class I've been in for the last couple of years, is very happy to write one. For the second, though: I had another lecturer over summer school, but that lasted only six weeks, I doubt she'd remember me, and I'm not even sure she works at my uni anymore. My current NZ history lecturer has just had a minor heart attack - so no way am I going to ask him to do anything for me.

So - I move on to my past English lecturers and eventually ask the one I think will be most likely to remember me. He does, luckily, and he's written a fantastic reference for me and sent it to me today. My supervisor will be able to write me quite a detailed one so the application is all sorted now. Great. But it got me thinking:

I really hate how we have to do this, to exist in society, to succeed, to get a job. This particular situation is hardly a big deal, but I still find it incredibly embarrassing to ask people to write down all the good things about me, and even more so to actually read them myself. What would have been worse - having to write my own letter explaining why I deserve to win. I just can't handle that! Same as job interviews. It just seems wholly wrong to explain why I'm fantastic and how I have so much to offer when actually to be honest there are probably way more people more capable than me. Which is part of the reason I've been put off applying for Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade graduate positions at the end of the month - strenuous selection process and about four to five hundred applicants for about 25 jobs.

Is this wrong? Am I not ambitious or competitive enough? Actually, I know I'm competitive; it's just that the competition had better be based on my actual abilities and not just what I say about them. I am constitutionally unable to exaggerate my own qualities or even to do them justice. I feel vulgar, a fraud, if I even try, and I go all red and start stuttering. If someone even pays me a compliment, I accept it in a very offhand way as if it doesn't matter that much, even though it'll keep a secret smile on my face for the next six months, and I say something bad about myself to balance it out - because it's embarrassing to agree that there's anything good about me.

So, who has some advice for me? Or some sympathy because it's exactly the same for you?

Otherwise, uni is going great. I am still feeling thoroughly overwhelmed but now it's in an excited way. I have finally sorted out my research topic and this is it: Visitors to Stalin's Russia, and why they came away disillusioned or with illusions intact. I'm not sure if that announcement will create worldwide excitement but I am so motivated now! Classes are fun, and I'm getting on so well with all the other honours students. Postgrad is so much better than undergrad.

Also - EXCITING NEWS!!! - the Singalong Sound of Music is coming back to Christchurch!!! I am so thrilled. This time I have to dress up as something really fun and organise a big group of us.

let's just say...

I had absolutely no idea how much work History Honours was going to be. No idea.

Of course, it's now that the grinning Masters students choose to tell us that it was the worst year of their life.

Must! Look! On! The! Bright! Side!
- No exams.
- An honours room with own desk and swivelly chair, tea/coffee/fridge, photocopier and own key for all hours of the day.

Aaaand, that's about all I can manage.