Love and Death as of Late

Following my thesis defense a week and a half ago, I checked out of the world for a long-desired vacation. Only now do I have a grip on my mind and two feet standing steadily on the ground.

The verdict on my thesis was less than desirable. Although my work wasn't dismissed, I was informed that the number of edits I need to make will require more time than offered by the two week deadline between my defense and the submission deadline. In short, my thesis will be edited, complete, and submitted before I move to Kentucky, but not early enough to meet the deadline for December graduation. I have felt a range of emotions in response to the verdict: ambivalent acceptance, personal defeat, untargeted anger, teeth-gritting frustration, and, finally, the flippant drive to get the damn thing done.

In better news, Lady Audacity is pleased to announce that she is engaged! Following two years of dating, Mr. Audacity proposed on the cool afternoon of Friday, November 13. Although I choose to keep the details private, know that I am thrilled, the couple is in good ol' unconditional love, and I am proudly wearing a shining ring on my finger!

In closing, I would like to add that traditional country music is officially a thing of the past, as indicated by Taylor Swift's recently awarded title of Entertainer of the Year at the Country Music Awards. Call me crazy, but as a lady in my late twenties, I can neither relate to nor appreciate the diary-entries-turned-songs of a warbling 19 year old. My baby teeth are long gone . . . give me something I can sink these pearly adult canines into!

The Death of Country Music by Jack Lightfoot

The Night Before Defending

Ten and half hours prior to my thesis defense. Dinner consisted of homemade gourmet nachos, accompanied by mimosas brimming with expensive orange juice and cheap champagne. Not sure that will prove to be the best of ideas, but at least I am relaxed. Moreover, my vintage purse and Vera Bradley brief case are packed; my dress, cardigan, and underskirt are ironed; my black pantyhose, Spanx, and undergarments are laid out; my accessories and shoes are ready to slip on; advisor's gifts wrapped and thank you cards written; festive autumn plates and napkins are boxed up; organic free trade coffee ordered; 24 assorted Krispy Kreme doughnuts pick-up scheduled; personalized name tags for all attendees made; and comfort cushions the mind.

The presentation is loaded and ready to go. I need to 1) save it to my zip drive before going to bed. I'll be up at 5:30 a.m. to shower, bouffant my hair, perfect my make-up (including new lipstick and lip liner I bought today), dress, pack my cosmetic bag, drink coffee, review my presentation, grab my umbrella (boo), and be on my way.

Here's to praying that all the good luck, all things written in the stars, and all the true blessings align in a perfect ten-pin strike. Sharp, charming, and strong.

Ready, Aim, Fire, Ladies!

Extra, extra, read all about! My thesis advisor called said committee member (see "Seriously" post, November 7, 2009) a bully! And it gets better . . . my thesis advisor is flying in for my defense! That whole thing about my advisor being the great and powerful Oz (see "Skulls: Inside and Out" post, October 26, 2009) . . . forget it! The drama associated with my thesis is getting juicier than an episode of Desperate Housewives. Ya'll have no idea. During the course of this project, I have expereinced the death of a beloved friend to a motorcycle crash, the death of a committee member, the cancer diagnosis and recovery of another committee member, the relocation of my thesis advisor to a school about, oh, eight states away, the collapse of my graduate program and susequent absorbtion into another (crappy) program, and now, a final showdown between said committee member and me, my advisor, and everyone else it seems.

After said committee member's email yesterday, I started envisioning women I admire for thier strong will and, oh, shall I say audacity, to do and say as they damn well please. This army of women will be in my mind and heart all the way through my defense this week:

Loretta Lynn: Not only is she a fiery Kentuckian, she is repsonsible for penning "Fist City," a country classic that includes the line, "Close you face and stay outta my way if ya don't wanna go to fist city."

Rogue: Marvel's finest heroine has got it all. Strength? Check. The ability to drain her opponants? Check. Seduction? Check. Sweetness? Check. Southern? Check, check!

Artemis: When the Greek goddess of the moon and hunt caught Actaeon watching her bathe, she turned him into a stag. He was promptly torn to peices by his own pack of hunting dogs.

Princess Jasmine: She acted a little bitchy at first, but when everyone else was mesmerized by Prince Ali, she was the only one to speak up and say, hey, hold your horses (and monkies, harem girls, elephants, servants, genie, and whatever else you rode into town on), this is my heart we're talking about!

Dolly Parton: I do believe this picture says it all.

Seriously?

One of my thesis committee members just sent an email to the entire committee, plus my program director and stupid program office assistant who lacks the competence to even schedule a conference room, and this is an excerpt of what the said committee member had to say:

"I have finished reading the thesis and have asked [Lady
Audacity] to come in for a chat . . . My biggest concern is that she is
misinterpreting the results . . . Much will be resolved when she thinks
"association" rather than correlation. Hopefully we'll get a chance to
talk about this prior to her defense."

Well, why didn't you call CNN and ask them to scroll, "Graduate student doesn't have a clue!" along the bottom of the television screen? I am so frustrated! I have been over the results a thousand times with my statistician (also a committee member) and, as I previously posted, my advisor read my thesis several times . . . and neither of them had anything like this to say! The way I see it, the said committee member is calling their ability to interpret data into question just as much as mine.

I'll be damned if I let all of my hard work come into question four days before I defend. In addition to time, brain power, and heart I put into this thing, I have also invested so many pieces of me into this project: I gave up roller derby, I went from a full-time salary to part-time pay check, I allowed myself to pack on about fifteen "thesis pounds," I whittled down my social life, and I deferred admission to my Ph.D. program in Kentucky (which I will start in January, come hell or high water), all to make my graduate thesis something I am proud of and something that will benefit the unerstanding and practice of environmental education.

The Final Stretch

Seeing as my life is consumed by my thesis right now, I am inclined to start with an update. Monday of this week, I turned in my thesis to my committee. Wednesday of next week, my defense takes place. That means my weekend goals are: 1) create my Power Point slide show for the defense, 2) decide what I am going to serve my crowd for the 9:00 a.m. event (coffee is obviously a must, but I'm torn between Krispy Kreme doughnuts - the cheap, easy choice - and assorted pastries and scones - the more refined choice), 3) purchase gifts for my thesis committee members, 4) purchase plates, napkins, cups, etc., and 5) study my thesis and practice my presentation until my brain refuses to work.

If I had it my way, Cracker Barrel would cater my thesis defense.
American Breakfast by Yorkshire Soul

Some people find it surprising that I have invited friends, co-workers, professors, and other acquaintances to my defense. Personally, I am much more comfortable in the presence of those I know and love (or at least like). Of the folks who have confirmed their attendance, it looks like I am going to have a crowd of park rangers, roller derby girls, graduate students, one energy specialist, and, of course, Mr. Audacity himself, who will be running around town the morning of to snag whichever breakfast goodies I decide to serve. Sounds more like a guest list to a party than a thesis defense, but in my mind it is a party . . . an intellectual party where I dually fill the hot seat and the hostess position, show off my research, endure the slings and arrows of my committee, and then celebrate my success with my eclectic crowd of supporters. Alright.

Defending my Thesis, MadMen style.

I am fully aware that I will have a final round of edits to go through, but I will put those off for the weekend to relax and celebrate (some more) down in the quaint shrimping town of McClellanville, South Carolina. Mr. Audacity and I, along with our two dogs, are headed to the coast for the annual Campfire Jam at Doe Hall Plantation, where we will spend four days enjoying music, eating our weight in seafood, snuggling by the fire, exploring the Intercoastal Waterway, catching up with friends, and, hopefully, squeezing in some antique shopping. All four of us will be sleeping in a two person tent together, which I expect will be very cozy. No computer, no phones, no shower, no electricity, no work . . . I can't wait.

Sunset Over the Intercoastal Waterway by Daniel Bates

Saved You a Seat

I am swallowing a tab bit of guilt. I just spoke with my advisor, who was super supportive and who also provided me with an edited copy of my thesis early this morning. Granted, the thesis arrived four or five days late, but she read the thing four times in the past two and a half weeks! From what I understand about typical advisors, that many readings may damn near hit a record!

Now, my conscience reminds me of Walt Disney's Thumper, when he said, "If you can't say somethin' nice, then don't say nothin' at all."

But then my balls remind me of Alice Roosevelt Longworth, who said something to effect of, "If you don't have anything nice to say, come sit beside me." Atta girl!

Cue the Crickets

Eight a.m., my lily white ass! That was the determined hour to receive my edited thesis from my advisor, but as the clock hands approach noon, the inbox on my email account remains empty as a beer bottle clutched in my hand on a Friday night.