Wherein the author apologizes for being a self-absorbed twit

Sorry for all who took offense at my recent posts. I am going through a rough spot professionally speaking and I hope that you will all bear with me. Please don't think that my ramblings are any sort of indictment of my friends. I love you all.

Really, I'm not a full-time depresso agent. I simply play one on Monster Quest.

Wherein the author cuts out the crap

Ok. I don't know what you'd call this, but I'm calling it a change of direction. I am 46 years old and I think I have earned the right to start taking control of my own life. I'm tired of doing things to please everyone else.

I know there is an entire contingency out there that can't believe I do ANYTHING to please anyone else, but you're wrong. I have spent a lot of time and energy trying to please other people and smooth things out for others, and make sure everyone else is happy and never giving a thought to what it is that makes me happy. But a recent series of events in my life have demonstrated, unequivocally, that my self-denial is without value. Let's just say that the lack of positive reinforcement for such behavior has led me to believe I am knocking myself out for absolutely nothing.

So the buck stops here. Presumably, half of my life is over. I think that gives me some latitude.

I have decided to stop coloring my hair. The reasons for this are two-fold. One. Coloring your hair isn't good for it. Two. Despite buying hair color that is designed to be "cool" and not highlight any red, every box of hair color I have tried over the past 4 years has turned my hair red. And it's not a flattering red. It's this weird red that I don't think favors my skin tone. And I guess there is also Three. My dad had grey hair and it looked really nice. I'm hoping my hair will go that way.

Now not coloring hair is a pretty radical thing in my family. It's sort of like saying you aren't going to shave your legs anymore. My 92-year-old Gram still colors her hair. She told me it wasn't polite for me to go grey before she did. I have a feeling that should anyone ask, they'd stare at me like I just dropped out of graduate school to join a commune if I told them of my decision. But color it I will no more. If it makes me look old, I guess that means I'm old.

#2 on my list. I have decided to start drinking Coca Cola Classic again. I love Coke Classic and I haven't allowed myself to enjoy it in years and years and years. I figure if I am going to be overweight and sexless, I might as well enjoy the things I eat. I don't drink enough soda for a can a day to make that much of a difference.

#3. I am going to make some new friends who have absolutely nothing to do with school. I am outgoing. I have always enjoyed a high level of social activity. I never had to wonder what was going to happen on Friday night, because something would come up. Social activity just spontaneously generated around me. And when I first came to Carbondale, we had a large group of grad students who enjoyed each other's company. I thought it would stay that way. But things have changed. People have moved on and new faces have arrived. There are cliques now and I'm part of none. I have tried to integrate but it just feels forced. I don't quite know how to put my finger on it. I'm generally forgotten. If I am not at the forefront of people's minds when it's time to do things, so be it. I'll do my own thing.

#4. Someone once said of me: "You don't seek to be a leader, but in the absence of true leadership, you will lead." I think that's on the mark. Professionally, I have floundered for 4 years. I thought I had the skills and the talent to raise money for my project. I do not. The entire time that I have struggled and panicked and come to terms with an unfunded project, I have done so alone. None of my professional mentors--even those that I thought SHOULD give a shit--offered a hand, any friendly advice, or any alternatives I might have considered. While I was out in the field over the past few weeks, I came to an epiphany. My path through graduate school has been impossibly harder than almost every other person I have studied beside. (I am willing to concede that the Chinese student who was involved in an arranged marriage, became pregnant, and her husband began to abuse her and her child--all while attempting to study for her prelims in a foreign language--wins that contest hands down.) But on a general ease-of-making-progress-in-graduate-school scale with my peers, I have come up as a significant outlier. I have waited on those who should have led to lead, and I waited in a vacuum. I have watched with some amazement as those people who ignored my efforts and needs bend over backwards to extend themselves to others. It is painfully clear I am now solely responsible for finishing. I am left to my own devices. So I am no longer looking for leadership, mentoring or advice from those folks anymore. I believe I have the skills I need to do the work. I believe I have sufficient funds to do the work. And since I traversed the hard times alone, I've decided to continue on my own. I think people who know me in my professional life are going to notice a big change in the coming year. Or worse, perhaps they won't even notice at all.

I don't know if this is all for the better or the worse. I don't really think it matters. I'll be a grey-haired, grumpy ol' fart, who stays home with her dog on Friday nights, or maybe I'll be a smart, genuine, person who finds a social circle that does enjoy my company and what I have to offer. Maybe Jake will be my only friend. Maybe I'll take up roller skating. Or sky diving. Or hip hop dancing. Maybe I'll spend every weekend in the herbarium. Maybe people will be pissed at me or maybe they won't even notice the change. So be it. There is more than one way to do graduate school and there is more than one way to live your life. From now on, I'm doing both in a manner that pleases me.

A new favorite place

Sand Canyon. California. In the vicinity of Mojave, CA. Or maybe it's more Monolith, CA.




In addition to a vast wealth of partridges, wildlife highlights also include a donkey rescue ranch. Did I mention that I think donkeys are the cutest things ever? If I ever had a farm of my own, I'd have a few donkeys. I'm just saying.






OK, that last one isn't in Sand Canyon. But it is still one of my new favorite places.

5,318 miles and Two Double-Double Animal Styles

I thought I'd show off a little bit of my favorite plants. Here are my finds, in no particular order.

Abronia turbinata, Washington City, UT. At least I think it's A. turbinata. I had mis-identified it last year. (Not a new population)


Abronia turbinata. Riverside, NV. (Not a new pop and nearly an exterminated pop due to roadside grading)

Abronia elliptica near Hanksville, UT. (New pop)


White-flowered Abronia villosa, Lake Los Angeles, CA. (Uncommon) (New pop)

Purple-flowered Abronia villosa. Palm Springs, CA. (Common) (New pop)


Abronia latifolia (yellow) and Abronia umbellata (purple) grow in sympatry in Montana de Oro State Park. In all likelihood, they hybridize there as well. (Not a new pop) Interestingly enough, Abronia umbellata and Abronia villosa form a species complex that has perplexed Abronia researchers for quite some time. I guess it's up to me to unravel the mystery.

Abronia fragrans. I think anyway. Amarillo, TX. Note the woody caudex. I'm guessing these are perennial. (New pop)

Tripterocalyx micranthus. Riverside, NV. (Not a new pop)

Abronia pogonantha. I think. Near Twentynine Palms, CA. (New pop)


Abronia pogonantha. I think. Near El Mirage, CA. (New pop)


Abronia pogonantha, Lake Los Angeles, CA. (Not a new pop)

Abronia pogonantha, near Baker, CA. (New pop)

From a professional standpoint, it was a fairly productive two weeks. I found six new populations of my plants. I found all the species I had hoped to find and a few extras I hadn't planned on. Amazingly enough, I didn't take a single photo of A. maritima. I have plenty from last year and the two populations I visited weren't new to me, but I do find it interesting that I failed to take a single pic. After all, we are talking about me. So anyway, here's one from last year.

Lessons from the Road

I believe on each trip you learn something about yourself. Here's a quick run down of somethings I've learned about me.

1. I CAN find Abronia without Liv or Jack.
2. Not only that, I can find Abronia on the side of the road while going 65 miles an hour after dusk.
3. I am not cut out for California driving.
4. I am content to travel alone.
5. I am not a camp cook. I try to care about food on the road, but I don't. Apparently, my fixation with food is simply a hobby that I dabble in during idle hours in my every day life. Cold spaghetti from a can sounds better than dirtying a ton of camp dishes.
6. I will consider myself acclimated to the elevation when I stop losing blood through my nose.
7. Motel 6 is pet friendly and perfectly fine if the wind, cold, or quivering dogs threaten your sleep and sanity.
8. I am much more cognizant of other people's needs and feelings than they are of mine.
9. There are times when it is good that I am out of constant contact with my everyday life.
10. Ultimately, I am the only one upon whom I can depend.
11. My bullshit meter really is full up.

Bonus. During a few tense moments in the field and on the road, I have learned that I am fully prepared to harm someone who tries to harm me.

The Drive By Rockies

Although I know how you people live for my pictures of roadside Abronia, there is more to life than great smelling, fantastically happy, moth-laden research systems such as these. While Abronia may grow in the ugliest of places, if you just turn around, you are usually rewarded with one of the world's most spectacular vistas. Such is the life of Abronia. The habit of a vagabond, the outlook of a king.

But today was a driving day. And though I know Bin would not approve, I thought I'd give you a taste of my drive-by shooting. If it is any consolation, I merely hold up the camera in the general direction and click the button. I get what I get. Sometimes I get a picture up my nostrils. Sometimes I get a picture of the dashboard. Sometimes, nothing but road. And keep in mind, I am cognizant of traffic at all times.






Here we go:

Jake likes snow

Since there is no way for me to put things up in order, I'll just offer this nice video of Jake at 9600 feet or so and this fine photo of me. =]

Sick, Tired, and Windblown

I guess it was bound to happen. I'm sick. And not just sick of driving...although I am. And not just sick of grad school....although I am. I'm honest to goodness sick. I don't know if it is a mild case of food poisoning, or really, really bad indigestion, or a serious case of stress, but Whoa doggies! In any event, I've become adept at finding the <$40 hotel rooms in California. Thank god for internal plumbing. But food poisoning/indigestion/stress or no, the road show that is field research must go on. I went to the beach today hoping to be able to take daytime scent off A. latifolia. That didn't happen. I didn't trust the bags to stay on the plants in that wind. I worried about what sand hitting those expensive air pumps would do to their internal gizmos. And I wasn't entirely sure that I could handle sitting in that wind myself for 2 hours.

That didn't stop me from getting some great photos today. Almost all taken from the front seat of the car. By the way, the wind nearly ripped my car door off more than once today. So I hope you appreciate the challenges I have faced for your viewing pleasure. =)

Enjoy. I'm off in search of Pepto.


By the way, Jake hates the ocean. And wind. And rain. And thunder. And wind. He really, really hates the howling wind we are having out here. He is not having fun. This is his "I'm not having fun" pose.

Bovinus roadsidus var udderiferous. Seen more than one of these.


And can anyone guess where these two pics were taken?


This one was later, but I just thought it looked like someone had poked a stick in some dough.

Some dreams die hard...very hard

After my ex tried to kill me for the second time, I figured it was time for a change. After my boss had fucked me over for the umpteenth time, I knew it was time. I decided I wanted to become a professor. Oh, how naive I was in thinking it was just a matter of a few years in school.

As I sit in a hotel room chasing research that I am funding with my own money, I realize that I am paying a greater price than just the money pit that is graduate school. I am being changed by this process and I don't think this is a good thing. Let me explain.

I wanted to become a professor. I wanted to teach botany. I love plants. I wanted to pass on that excitement to others. I wanted to inspire in the way nature inspired me. I wanted to do research, to make some small contribution to science. I chose to go into "basic science" because at the time I started, the scientific community was saying over and over and over again that it's greatest need was for "basic"science. For systematists and taxonomists. So off I went secure in the idea that there would be plenty of funding and plenty of job opportunities awaiting me when I got out. If you think about it, I was doing a sort of civic duty for the scientific community.

After visiting a number of universities and getting a feel for their programs and approach, I picked this one. My criteria for selection was based primarily on a reputation for good science and an atmosphere that seemed low key and low stress. I'm too old to give a shit about competiting with my fellow graduate students. Hell, I'm older than most of the faculty. Some programs seemed intent on having students live in fear. I don't know how to explain this except to say that I've survived two attempts on my life. Professors can't scare me.

And then, I got to graduate school. And basic science fell out of favor. Like overnight. Everything is all global warming. No one cares about basic science. Funding dried up faster than my sex life. Not even top researchers in our department are able to get funding in systematics. My advisor told me, point blank, that mine was the last project she was taking on involving systematics.

Excuse me while I feel left out to dry.

I have written more than 20 grants in support of my research. The only funding I have received was a merit-based fellowship that came at the end of my fourth year. From the sounds of it, my department chair doesn't want me to be able to take full advantage of the two years of the fellowship because that will make me a 6th year graduate student. He wants me to graduate at the end of the fifth year. Despite the fact that this is the first funding I've had to do my project. The stress of all of this is crushing me. So, for now, I'm paying for my own research. I'm out in the field driving around looking for my plants with my own money. And it's not going well. It's time consuming, frustrating, and expensive. And it's all borrowed money. Money borrowed on the promise of a Ph.D. that is feeling more and more improbable, and a job that may or may not exist for me when I get out.

And this on top of being made to feel as though I don't measure up because my project has failed to garner funding. Every single day I enter my building, I feel a weight settle in on me. A big boulder I carry through my day that reminds me I am failing. That I'm not doing enough. I'm not good enough. I'm not a real researcher. Half the time, I wonder if professors pass me in the hall and think to themselves, "well, she didn't turn out as promising as we thought." There are days I dread waking up in the morning.

Sometimes, I wonder if my lack of "fear" of faculty makes it worse on me. I think some professors confuse respect with deference. Failure to fear the all powerful Oz equals a lack of respect to some.

I now have crushing educational debt. If I don't get the Ph.D., I fear that I won't be able to find a job that will allow me to pay off that debt. So I can't walk away. But with each passing day, I have less faith that it will happen. When I think about my committee, I don't think about a group of people working to help me. I see a very large obstacle standing between me and my dream. I thought a committee was a group of people helping to train you to a profession. I'm afraid to say anything to anyone about my concerns for fear that, if I do, they will actively work against me. That a PhD won't come at any cost. Graduate school is the only place I have ever encountered where you have no friends, no allies, no help, no hope, and no promise that anything, ever, will get any better. There seems to be a promise that all things will, in fact, get worse. Things happen TO you. You have no recourse. You just have to take it. Perhaps, it is some combination of people and circumstances and my own mental health that has brought me to this point. This point of hopelessness. This point of having no idea what to do next.

I see now why so few single people survive this process. It takes a team to prop up the one running the gauntlet.

I can't believe that this is what it takes to be a college professor. I can't believe this is the process. All I wanted to do was inspire some kids. Make some small contribution to a field that I loved. The job requires a Ph.D. The people who hold those keys don't seem inclined to help me anymore. I'm not really sure what happened, but I don't think it's all me. I don't think I deserve, or any graduate student deserves, the life-sucking, spirit-crushing process that is graduate school. I don't think I'll ever get beyond this. I don't think I have the ability to take on a student and put them through this process as well.

I want the person I was back. I don't like this person I've become.

What Comes Around Goes Around

Two things are ubiquitous in the west. Sand and wind. It has been a wild day. I headed to Morro, only to find the winds gusting up to 60 mph. I didn't think that was possible without a hurricane. In any event, I don't suspect I'll be finding any moths out tonight. Excuse my finger in front of the camera. I was hanging onto it for dear life.



Funny thing. The room I am in right now is pictured somewhere in the header of my blog. I'm in another $40 hotel room. The closed the campground at Montana de Oro due to winds and falling limbs. That's okay. I've realized it's not the cold that gets to me, it's the wind. It just wears me down. But no loss. I'm working on not having a mental breakdown anyway. This helps.



Thank god for Jake. That's all I have to say.