Comics as Ethnography

Well, they say that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. So, since I'm not dead yet, I guess that qualifies me for the title of Ms. Muscles! Grad school seems to have appointed itself as my personal trainer, and I think it has seriously overestimated my abilities! I've just managed to graduate from "bench pressing" 2 gigantic research projects in the last 2 weeks to whatever you do after that (free weights?). So, I'm not really a sports fan.

I did take time to celebrate, but not for long, as I still have 3 or 4 more big projects to go before October 1 (and that's before I even get to the dissertation proposal). I now understand what the Spanish proverb re: unrested fields turning sterile, and the phrase, "The bow must not always be drawn" mean. I'm definitely ready for some rest!

If I ever do manage to get the PhD, the world had better watch out, because the first thing I'm going to do after sleeping for a million years and doing nothing for a week is to completely reform our educational system. If this is an education, I'd hate to see what the school of hard knocks has to offer!

My most interesting idea today was that perhaps we should think about making comic books as a valid form of ethnographic work. (Yeah, I'm not entirely sure I'm using the term correctly, but it sounds like I know what I'm talking about, doesn't it?!) I've been struck by how well PhD Comics captures the overt issues and underlying dynamics of the culture of graduate school. I mean, you really have to understand the underlying cultural perspectives as well as the daily practices and valued products of institutions of higher ed to achieve a comic that is actually funny to people living that life for real. Humor is grounded in truth. And you'll find a lot of truths about graduate school by skimming the archives of PhDComics.com! Some of my favorites can be found by clicking here and scrolling down toward the bottom of the page.

Well, on that note, I'm off to bed after pulling an all nighter to try to finish one of my comprehensive exam papers. One down, 2 more to go. At least the worst one is over!
Sigh of relief!

Surprise

"Men are that they might have joy." Today, that seems true.

Of Motivation, Meaning, Method, & Madness

The work sucks me in--

Pushes my thinking,

Changes my mind--

Synthesizes substance,

Sculpts shape,

In a del.icio.us Flickr of time

That lasts for hours

And passes in seconds.



But prevailing paradigms

Pull . . . ideas, teeth, fingernails,

Imprison . . . change

Force . . . fearful flickers of thought

Smother . . . creativity

In tomes--

Filled with dead words

That pass in seconds

But linger a lifetime.



Epitaph (or epilogue, depending on which meaning, method, and/or madness you prefer!)

Cherice Montgomery, September 4, 2007

Goodbye

A lifetime of living
And loving
Just doesn't fit
In the package.

The heart, too full.
The tears, too small.
The words, too few
To contain it all.

The loss, too great.
The grief, too new.
The wait, too long.
Dee, I'll miss you.

Cherice Montgomery, August 24, 2007

Progress?

The Passing, peaceful.
The eyes, blind--
Full of grief,
Left behind.

Cherice Montgomery, August 24, 2007

The Passing

The Passing, peaceful
The Ache, remains
The Heart, breaks
And Grief, stains.

Hindsight

Why is it that we sometimes have to look backward in order to move forward?

More of My Photography

Who needs grad school when you've got a digital camera?! My camera gives me the opportunity to try on new perspectives, think in new ways about familiar things, discover new ideas, explore intellectual insights, share that understanding with others, and express the "real" me in new ways--all things a PhD is supposed to do for you (or so I'm told). Click here to see more of my photography (which is a lot more fun to produce than the writing I'm supposed to be doing right now)!

Why can't they?

(Note: The poem will make much more sense if you click on each individual photo--or save yourself the trouble and view the slide show.)


It started with half-formed thoughts.

Celestial scribbles . . .

. . . smeared with cosmic paint on the canvas of her mind.

Until, with a sudden flash of inspiration,

powerful ideas

ignited possibility.

A concept exploded into existence,

producing cosmic confetti

that filled her soul

with light.

Why can't THEY?

Why CAN'T they?

WHY can't they?

Feel the fire?

See the exquisite entities emerging from the flames?

Hear the harmonies?!

Perhaps it is a question of perception?

Maybe her scintillating conversations . . .

. . . are inconsequential specks to them?

Maybe her galaxies . . .

Are their fuzzy poodles?

A post that ends with a poodle doesn't impact the reader with much of a bang, does it?!

Or even a sizzle, really! :-(

More like a fizzle, if you ask me!


















Poem & Photos by Cherice Montgomery - July 7, 2007

Vital Statistics

Can I just say my stats class is going to kill me?! It is nearly 3:30 a.m. and I am sitting here waiting for my take-home quiz to print so that I can go to bed. How many hours does a person have to invest to understand the stuff?! I sit in class for 6 hours a week (and actually pay attention and take good notes for the entire 6 hours), do about 3 hours of homework for each class, plus 2 hours of work with a homework group, plus the additional hours on the quizzes. AGGGH! This one, 3-credit class has become the equivalent of about a part-time job! Literally!

What is SO incredibly frustrating is that I am starting to "feel" how the numbers work together. I can see that the equations are all related and that they build on one another (which tells me that they are just describing different facets of what the numbers are doing/representing--like saying the same thing in different words so that you end up emphasizing different aspects of the thing). Unfortunately, the class moves at close to the speed of light (gotta cover everything, after all) and the relationships among the concepts are NOT clear.

The instructor does a great job given the institutional constraints on the course/her teaching. It is just so frustrating to realize that I am actually at a point in my relationship with mathematics where I could actually understand and BENEFIT from it, and can't because something gets lost in the translation between the words and the symbols. I soooo need a good translator. I may just sit down and make myself (and all the other poor students who have to endure this torture that SHOULDN'T be torturous) a chart . . . if I can ever get enough sleep to think through it clearly.

As I hear parents say, "Use your words" to their 2-year-olds, I think of mathematicians who haven't yet learned to use THEIR words to explain their symbols to me.

I did have to chuckle when I realized that the symbols really are all Greek (at least, so far)! The phrase, "It's all Greek to me" has a totally new meaning to me now! I'll have to ask my colleague from Greece tomorrow if the symbols mean something else in Greek, or if math is just naturally easy for him!