I do not look underage!

During my looong journey home, I had a 24 hour stopover in London. Since it was over Christmas, there wasn't that much to do 'in town' and I decided to simply go to a hotel and catch some sleep before my other two flights.

As I was going out of the 'duty free' area, a nice young man came up to me and asked if I wanted to try a free sample of Bailey's. He was offering everyone, so I guess it was a pretty mechanical motion by the time me and my bags rolled by. As he was approaching -and asking- me to take a sample glass, he takes another look and goes 'oh! Too young! Sorry!!!'

I AM NOT TOO YOUNG. I am 28 and well over the age limit for free drinks in duty free shops. However, I take my compliments where I can find them and assume that looking under 21 is a good thing... right?

Ten weeks

After you don't want to know how many hours of traveling, I finally made it to the land of everlasting spring. It wasn't a very tiring trip, because I did have a little layover in London that let me get some rest before getting here.

...and now I'm back. I have the (I feel) monumental task of finishing my fieldwork, my first manuscript (and submitting it!), writing most of my second article and hopefully, drafting a bit of the third with my friend Christie.

But with the sun shining bright, friends ready to hand out and lovely 24°C weather... who really wants to work? I'll get to it next year. I mean, I am a PhD student after all.

Vegetable curry and mango chutney for the soul

Ever since Magnus came for a visit and we had dinner at that Indian place in downtown Umea, I've had a craving for not-so-spice vegetable curry like you wouldn't believe. There's nothing wrong with spicy though, I just happen to have the taste buds of a 70 year-old woman from Boca Raton, Florida.

So yesterday I was at the ICA (aka, supermarket) and decided to go ahead and buy a little jar of ready made curry. Since it said 'Made in Indonesia' on it, I knew that I had to go for the mildest one they had. I also got some veggies and some polar bread, in the absence of anything Nan-like. I got home and started making my 'boil in 10 minutes rice bag' (don't laugh, rice eludes me) and put some Cardamum in the boiling water, stir fried the veggies and some Quorn pices (faux-meat for us vegetarians)and plopped the curry on the mix.

And so I sat in front on my computer screen ready to watch a movie that Magnus recommended with a steaming bowl of rice, veggie curry and mango chutney. It was great and made me really happy. So happy, I had seconds and thirds and even managed to go out and have a little walk and a ciggie. The happiness that curry brings to my senses is beyond description... although next time, I'll try the next step of spice... it seems Swedes can out-mild my old woman from Florida taste buds.

'Transferable skills': I cut Gerd's hair

One of the most important things that a PhD student has to remember is that we will eventually go back to the real world. Yes, after the PhD most of us won't be in a university anymore. We will have to do what normal adults do: live lives with schedules, actual business suits and other stuff.

To cope with this dramatic change of t-shirts and late mornings to heels and waking up early, we learn a set of the so-called 'transferable skills'. That means things that some of what we know how to do as researchers actually works in a 'real life' environment. To the best of my knowledge, I have none of those so far... well, had.

Last night, Gerd asked me to cut his hair. 'Are you scared to try? he said... to which I replied -no, are you?

I have to say I did a really good job. Even hair, client happy and I realized that I might have gotten an actual skill that's good for after my PhD -if that post-doc doesn't pan out, I mean

Stressed-out

I'm just now discovering how much I depend on my stress.

I need it like I need air to breathe. I taught myself that without, I'm not creative, witty, and basically, not me. This week though, it went too far. I could hardly sleep, had a horrible headache and realized that I need air to breathe way more than I do stress.

And I know I've complained about stress before, but I think its finally time to put a stop to it and enjoy my PhD process without sleepless nights. 'All in good time'

Are you a grown up? I am not.

Today, Prof Michael Kimmel gave a talk about his new book 'guyland'. During the introduction, he said that there are five milestones that mark the entrance into the adult world:

1. Move out of parents house (CHECK!)
2. Finish school (hmmm maybe in 2011?)
3. Get a job (!!!)
4. Ger married (yah, good luck with that)
5. Have a kid (does my thesis count?)

So, I guess this means that while I look 28 on the outside, I am actually about 6 on the inside.

Draft-head

No one said doing a PhD was easy... and no one said writing was easy either. I knew this, but I threw caution to the wind and followed my dream of doing a PhD (which is inexorably tied to writing a thesis). I did fieldwork, I analyzed data and summed-up my findings. This semester, it was time for me to write paper number one.

I won't lie and say that it's been easy, but it's not a process I hate. These last few weeks have all been about working a puzzle: finding the corner pieces, doing the edges, putting different sections together hoping that everything will fit in the end. The difference between papers and puzzles is that the puzzle you know if you're doing it wrong. The paper, you need your advisers to tell you! -or help you along the way.

Last week was all about putting the sections together. I had written out most of the manuscript in different pre-papers and as I pieced them together, I had to make my discussion of my findings. I finished on Friday evening with a headache and a sense of accomplishment. I can't wait to know what my advisers think, what changes I still have to make and how much longer until I have a 'final draft'.

The problem now is that I can't find the headspace to work. I guess I overdid it last week and have a terrible case of draft-head. I've been thinking about how to explain what that is all weekend long, and I finally came up with the definition: tt's like having a hangover, but without the wine.