I just saw a brand new Facebook group named "I want to graduate", described as "for all the phd students who want to graduate".

I am dumbstruck. What, we want to graduate, now? I thought the whole point was to remain an underpaid, unrecognized, lowly student forever, and ever, and ever? Who on Earth starts an educational program with in mind the idea of graduating from it? I thought graduating was a punishment!

Next thing you know, someone will create a Facebook cause out of that. And maybe even a political movement! Let students graduate! That's actually what they want!

Yes, I know that 97.3% of all Facebook groups are utterly pointless, and meant for people to shout their oh so controversial views (such as, enjoying baths, liking naps better than work, disliking war and hunger and world poverty, finding kitties super duper cute, hating mean customers, etc.) to the world.

Yes, I know I'm ranting a lot at Facebook these days, probably because (a) I've recently added a lot of people I need to be able to contact although they're never going to be friends and I can't hide updates about their activities fast enough and (b) I'm tired of wondering, each time I upload a picture or write a few words on their website, to whom they're planning to sell it.

Yes, I'm probably irritated beyond any reasonable measure.

But seriously, there's no fucking point. Graduate students want to graduate! Hold the presses! Call the President! It's not informative, it's not witty, it's not even remotely amusing, it's just polluting my time line and proving that if I ruled the world you who joined that group, and especially you, who created it, would never, ever deserve to be called a Doctor of Philosophy (from, you know, philo, loving, and sophia, wisdom).

Also, it's spelled "PhD", doofus.

Recently, an alumni from my lab visited us and gave a (very nice, I must say) talk about his work, which was followed by a discussion session between him and us students.

There was a rather unreal moment during which he, born and raised in Southern California and having never left it before eight months ago, advocated for traveling and exploring new locations in front of a room full of expatriates and people having moved from various places in the US to join our university. But that's not what I wanted to talk about.

This guy has always been passionate about science. I actually don't think I've ever met anybody who was as excited by new ideas and results as him. So that was a recurring theme in his speech; how a PhD was the opportunity of falling in love with science; how academia would not let you down if you really loved science.

Which led me to wonder.

Do I love science?

I like it. I like it a lot. There are times when it makes me prance around high-fiving my labmates, but there are also times when it makes me cry, and, more to the point, times when I'm just, meh, beautiful day isn't it, seen any good movie recently?

I get passionate about it, certainly. But do I get passionate enough? Isn't science less of the love of my life and more of a booty call? Picture me in my lab's corridor, yelling at a labmate: "but what if science is just a fucking buddy? Shall I still go for it?" Yes, the guys are considering keeping a bottle of cognac in the lab to help deal with my last year — I'm not quite sure whether they plan to make me drink to calm me down, or drink themselves to bear with me. Probably both.

So I'm having this stupid argument with science, trying to figure out how much exactly I love it, in the best "it's not you, it's me" tradition. Except that science doesn't even talk back.

Bitch.

Of Fathers

"I got emancipated from my father as soon as it was legally possible," the young woman said. "And then I was mostly raised by nannies, until my deeply religious, conservative, anti-feminist mother decided it was time she took care of me. I might have preferred living with my father."

The two other women nodded in silence.

"I seem to see so many happy families around me," she added, "and then I wonder, is it really possible?"

"We had a happy family," one of her friends replied. "And then my mother died."

"Oh, we had a happy family as well," the third woman added after a pause. "And then we found out my father had had a second family on the side for fifteen years. And he liked them better."

The young man with them put his glass down.

"Oh, wow."

I know. Most (probably all) families are fucked up one way or another. See for example over there.

Of Women's Worth

"I don't really want to hang out with that side of the family," the Asian woman with a British accent said. "They always ask why I want to go for a PhD, how am I going to find a husband, especially as haven't I been putting on a little bit of weight lately?"

"My family is more subtle," replied the European sounding woman. "They just always make comments on how nicer I look after I lose weight. Except that I don't lose weight, I just gain confidence in myself. The women in my family are all rather progressive, but most of them are still unconsciously super focused on women's appearance..."

"... because you need to get yourself a husband and keep him. Oh, icky," interrupted the first woman.

"My grandma used to send me cookies when I moved away from home," the young, definitely American man who was with them said. "So once I thanked her for it at a family gathering, and my sister asked whether she could have some as well. My grandma got up, pinched my sister's cheek, and said, 'oh, darling, we love you just like you are', which was probably the most passive aggressive thing I ever heard."

Isn't it great when people from such diverse origins find a common ground of shared experiences?

I love my swing dance club. You know I do. The prices are reasonable, they have student discount, and the music is awesome (although, sure, it's not a live band, but did you see how much you paid to enter?). Most importantly, people there are here to have fun, not to show off (although some of them are very, very, very good), so they don't despise you if you're a beginner. They might even compliment your hat.

Hat tip to the hat, young lady.

I was there yesterday and I had a blast. We decided to be prodigal and attend the class that is offered before the dance, and I learned an awful lot for such a short forty minutes. We stayed for an hour and a half after that and I danced almost every song.

On one of the few songs I did not dance, I was leaning against a wall, watching the good dancers and making faces at the people I knew (a very dear occupation of mine), when this guy came up to me. He must have been in his seventies. He introduced himself and started talking.

He said it was the first time he came here, and did I come here often, and he was new to the area, and he heard it was a good place to meet people, and oh that's a pretty ring, are you married or engaged?

Seriously? To a woman who's a third of your age? To a woman who's a third of your age, clearly not your typical Orange County trophy wife wannabe (about which, excuse me if I digress, but eww, eww, eww!), and to whom you've already given the exact same speech about it being your first time here and you being new to the area nine months earlier?

I don't think so.

Today is October 31st. That is to say, Halloween. Google is dressed up accordingly, and has a little surprise for you if you click several times on their banner. And clicking on their banner gives you the top results for the search "Halloween 2009".

Yeah, I was wondering, too. Also what about Christmas and New Year? And for 2012? Why will they not tell us when Halloween falls in 2012? Don't we know when Halloween falls in 2012? Is it a government conspiracy?

Dear Administrative Entity,

Please allow me to start this letter by acknowledging that I am nothing but an insignificant student. The many, many hours I devote to the study of computer science do not, alas, allow me to apply myself to perfecting the art of mind reading. This is why I humbly come to you with a doubtlessly ridiculous suggestion.

What if instead of "Please fill in the attached form and bring it to our office during opening hours", your instructions read "Please fill in the attached form, disregard the mention that you should not fill in sections D.2 and E, and bring it to our office during opening hours together with your student ID and social security card, as well as copies of your visa, both sides of you I-94, and pages 1 and 3 of your I-20"?

Wouldn't that be most helpful to all the students who, like me, only have a very limited success in the art of divination, and to your employees, whose precious working hours could then be freed of repeating to every one of us the same information regarding forms, copies, and sections D.2 and E?

May I also mention that, aside from the very inconvenient location of your offices with respect to my department, what is for you a mere trifle of carefully aligned numbers and neatly stacked triplicates is, for me, the key to my paycheck, which you are holding up until you are fully satisfied with my form-filling abilities.

On an additional note, is the employee I saw today (a very nice lady, by the way, despite her complete inability to understand why I would feel ever so slightly upset over this situation) always made up in this peculiar fashion or are the white foundation and red eye shadow a Halloween special?

With much humble respect,
#49462916 (student ID redacted to protect the guilty).

Oh, wait, what?

Apparently I screamed already.

From the bathroom. Where I had taken the latest issue of Time. The cover of which promises "The State of the American Woman. A new poll shows why they are more powerful — but less happy". The only reasonable course of action would have been to toss the magazine right away but... I was actually curious about how the poll showed why they are more powerful and less happy rather than that they are more powerful and less happy.

I never made it that far.

Here are some numbers from that poll.

• 54% of women and 38% of men agree it is possible for a woman to have a fulfilling life if she remains single.

• Having religious faith is very important for 68% of women and 58% of men.

• Being married is very important for 53% of women and 58% of men.

Yes. More men than women. But still a ridiculously high number.

• 51% of women and 57% of men agree it is better for a family if the father works outside the home and the mother takes care of the children.

• 81% of Republicans view negatively the fact that only about 30% of children grow up with a stay-at-home parent (versus "most" in the seventies).

• 68% of Republicans view positively the fact that nearly half of workers are women (versus one third of workers forty years ago).

• 63% of women and 56% of men strongly disagree with the statement "Mothers cannot be as productive at work as fathers"

Of course, some other numbers are very encouraging. The evolution of responses between 1970 and now, for instance, is a striking illustration of the shift in mentalities. But there is still a long, long way to go...

I may have many pair of shoes, but I only have one pair of sneakers. I'm probably afraid to appear too sporty or something. However, sneakers are my default shoes once the weather (or my office) is too cold for sandals. I have cute flats, low heel pumps, and even a pair of Doc Martens Mary Janes that I can walk comfortably in all day long, but I still wear sneakers most of the time.

Yes, I also have a few pairs of not-so-comfortable heels, some boots, and three pairs of dance shoes. Thanks for asking.

Anyway, my only sneakers, a cute pair of purple Converse Grimes, were dying. Nothing surprising, really, as I've had them for over a year and that's how long Converses usually last me. So I went and perused several shoes websites, and was attracted by a dark red pair. I clicked on them and decided they were exactly what I wanted.

And that's when I realized they were actually sustainable and eco-friendly. And promising me to get in touch with my inner hippie. I didn't even know I had an inner hippie, so imagine my surprise.

These shoes have a silk top, which means that I won't be able to wet them, which shouldn't be too much of a problem except maybe for crossing through freshly watered lawns, and are otherwise made of organic cotton, recycled car tire, post-consumer paper pulp, and vulcanized rubber, whatever the hell that is (okay, fine, the cross-linking of rubber by addition of sulfur under heat, if you really want to know). The laces are made out of recycled soda bottles. Fan-ceh.

But anyway, they were cute.

So I bought them. And received them promptly. And tried them on. Only to realize that they really make me look like I have the tiniest little feet.

But still, cute new shoes.

Squeeeee!