The heroic deed has been accomplished- the boy and I endured a day of intensive labor and relocated ourselves and all of our belonging to our new and spacious apartment. The move was rather successful: the boy yelled at me for the total of one times, I yelled at the boy for the total of zero times, and besides a scratch, a bruise and a shattered piece from the refrigerator (which, luckily, we’ll be able to replace), there were no other casualties in the process.
I still find it hard to believe how big this place is. I like space - small, cluttered rooms make me feel restless, confined. And yes, the photograph below, taken from the living room (not pictured) shows what is intended to be the boy’s office opening to a rather large dining room with funky looking wall paper. The stairs lead to the guest bedroom/Nika’s secluded workspace, where many quiet and productive hours are expected to be spent.
I now need to go and unpack.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
My year at VCU: A Success Story
Last fall I started my first year as an MA student in Economics at Virginia Commonwealth University. I was excited but I was also scared shitless. I did not know what to expect, didn’t know what was expected from me and was worried senseless whether I would be able to chew what I had bitten off. After all, I was enrolled in a program that promised to be quantitatively rigorous (and it didn’t fail to deliver) and despite my earlier bragging about my aptitude in math, I didn’t know whether I would be able to stomach the courses that were coming towards me as giant steamrollers.
The smart people of my department decided that my high school math background would suffice and got me enrolled in a graduate course of Mathematical Economics (which I aced, of course). The same people decide that I take Econometrics right away, even though I had told them upfront that I had never had a single course in Statistics before. “You’re a smart girl,” said my department head, “you’ll figure it out…” My Econometrics professor, however, wasn’t all that thrilled with the idea and didn’t conceal his “grave concerns” about how hard it was going to be for me to pass his course.
I was amazed at the amount of faith that my department had in me without really knowing anything about me or my aforementioned quantitative skills. Despite the fact that my eagerness to succeed could be spotted from a mile away, I wasn’t sure whether inspiration alone was enough to meet the expectations that both I and my program had. Or so I though…
As I was soon to find out, motivation does, actually, go a long way. I was determined to succeed, and not only so that I would prove the doubting professor wrong (no one tells me what I can or cannot accomplish)… After all, one of the reasons that I gave up Brandeis was lack of challenge, whereas here it was, the challenge in all its glory, staring me in the face and sticking its tongue at me…
I gave myself a one month crash course in Stats, spent a ridiculous amount of time on every small detail of the course, obsessed over every problem set and ended up passing the course with flying colors and a perfect score. As a side-effect, I also developed a hopeless crush on the guy and the subject matter itself, which only made me want to try harder and delve deeper. I also did well in theoretical courses, learned to work with a couple of kick-ass stats and math software, worked as a graduate assistant for the Econ department and befriended my professors.
I had never worked this hard before, and I was happy.
The end of my first semester was my tipping point – I no longer needed to prove anything to anyone (including myself) – it was no longer about fears, insecurities, grades and program requirements. I was simply hooked – this was something that I could do for the rest of my life. In fact, I would be hard pressed to think about anything else that would make me as happy as what I’m doing now - studying math, working with data and learning about different estimation techniques. And at this point doctorial pursuits are becoming inevitable necessity, so to speak.
The funny thing is – if this time last year somebody told me that I would be where I am today, I would simply laugh at them in disbelief. And yet, here I am, two semesters later, with a tremendous sense of accomplishment, yet humbled by the fact that there is so much more to learn! Even though this past year has been the most challenging, exciting and rewarding experience, I do know now that this is only the beginning…
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
You know those days when you get up early, with the best intentions, with big plans and what seems to be a busy day ahead and end up accomplishing not a damn thing, even when there are cases to be processed, article to be read, shit to be packed and stuff to be washed?
Instead, you walk to the nearest convenience store to replenish the supply of menthol cigarettes, buy a ninety nine cent Arizona tea and spend the rest of the day glued to the computer, reading someone else’s blog, because the writing is that good and the author that arresting?
Well, thanks to her, now I am hooked to 101 things in 1001 days, which is exactly what I need to fuel my procrastination, since I already managed to read her entire blog from start to finish… I have to admit that this is somewhat hard – I cannot move past # 63 no matter how hard I push my tired imagination. Now if only these items magically accomplished themselves...
Instead, you walk to the nearest convenience store to replenish the supply of menthol cigarettes, buy a ninety nine cent Arizona tea and spend the rest of the day glued to the computer, reading someone else’s blog, because the writing is that good and the author that arresting?
Well, thanks to her, now I am hooked to 101 things in 1001 days, which is exactly what I need to fuel my procrastination, since I already managed to read her entire blog from start to finish… I have to admit that this is somewhat hard – I cannot move past # 63 no matter how hard I push my tired imagination. Now if only these items magically accomplished themselves...
Stuff
• I started and successfully finished the first year of my Master’s program at VCU. Since this blog is still running under graduate edition, this is a topic worthy of its own post in the near future.
• In less than a week the boy and I are moving to a new place. After almost a year of peaceful cohabitation in a rather small, yet incredibly cute one (and a half) bedroom apartment, we decided to relocate to a bigger place, where my shit (notebooks, lose sheets of scribbling, books and computers) can be somewhat contained in one specific location instead of being scattered all over the place.
• So we passed the test: we can manage a small place without killing each other and/or burning it to the ground. The question is how we’re going to manage all this extra space that neither of us had the luxury of having in the past. This means making joint decisions on investing in new furniture (dining table and chairs, new office desk, bookshelves, etc. ), equitably sharing additional household chores that come with the added rooms, as well as giving the place some personality in terms of decorating and stuff. This means that I’ll have to contribute with my “feminine touch” even though the thought of matching sheets, towels and pillows still gives me a shudder.
• The extra bedroom upstairs means that we can now have out-of-town guests, so this is an open invitation to everyone to come and visit the wonderful city of Richmond. We are still in the Fan – the hippest, one of the most historic districts of the town. Added bonus: I make fantastic French toast and incredibly rich coffee.
• In three weeks or so I will be going to Armenia, alone, leaving the boy to his own devices with an ultimatum – next year he gets to come with me or else (after all, it’s high time he met my mother).
• I am currently slaving away as a research assistant for my department on a project on summer knowledge loss (yawn). The research question is whether increase in instructional time and/or alternative school calendar has a positive effect on kids' achievement test scores. While the studies that I have read so far have given me an interesting fact or two, I wonder whether I am the only one dissatisfied with the lack of statistical rigor in articles published by those who write them…
• With the help of a very kind Math professor, I am also trying to conquer differential equations. The said professor is an endless source of awe and inspiration, who not only encourages my still clumsy efforts, but also tries to talk me into doing my PhD in Mathematics. To be honest, I’m really tempted.
• I am currently obsessed with the NCIS show to an extent that its characters feel like family members of sorts. Must have something to do with my past affinity for the marines or something. Plus the show has a kick-ass forensic scientist who happens to be a vampire!
• The summer in Richmond is truly beautiful…
• In less than a week the boy and I are moving to a new place. After almost a year of peaceful cohabitation in a rather small, yet incredibly cute one (and a half) bedroom apartment, we decided to relocate to a bigger place, where my shit (notebooks, lose sheets of scribbling, books and computers) can be somewhat contained in one specific location instead of being scattered all over the place.
• So we passed the test: we can manage a small place without killing each other and/or burning it to the ground. The question is how we’re going to manage all this extra space that neither of us had the luxury of having in the past. This means making joint decisions on investing in new furniture (dining table and chairs, new office desk, bookshelves, etc. ), equitably sharing additional household chores that come with the added rooms, as well as giving the place some personality in terms of decorating and stuff. This means that I’ll have to contribute with my “feminine touch” even though the thought of matching sheets, towels and pillows still gives me a shudder.
• The extra bedroom upstairs means that we can now have out-of-town guests, so this is an open invitation to everyone to come and visit the wonderful city of Richmond. We are still in the Fan – the hippest, one of the most historic districts of the town. Added bonus: I make fantastic French toast and incredibly rich coffee.
• In three weeks or so I will be going to Armenia, alone, leaving the boy to his own devices with an ultimatum – next year he gets to come with me or else (after all, it’s high time he met my mother).
• I am currently slaving away as a research assistant for my department on a project on summer knowledge loss (yawn). The research question is whether increase in instructional time and/or alternative school calendar has a positive effect on kids' achievement test scores. While the studies that I have read so far have given me an interesting fact or two, I wonder whether I am the only one dissatisfied with the lack of statistical rigor in articles published by those who write them…
• With the help of a very kind Math professor, I am also trying to conquer differential equations. The said professor is an endless source of awe and inspiration, who not only encourages my still clumsy efforts, but also tries to talk me into doing my PhD in Mathematics. To be honest, I’m really tempted.
• I am currently obsessed with the NCIS show to an extent that its characters feel like family members of sorts. Must have something to do with my past affinity for the marines or something. Plus the show has a kick-ass forensic scientist who happens to be a vampire!
• The summer in Richmond is truly beautiful…
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Because the neurotic, occasionally weltschmerz, intellectual women need to represent...
Hello… (blowing off dust and cobwebs)…
In case you were wondering, I haven’t fallen off the face of the earth (not yet, at least).
I have to admit that this feels kind of awkward … kind of like reconnecting with a long-lost relative of sorts, when after the first few minutes of usual exchange of pleasantries one inevitably finds herself forced to speak of an excuse or two in a vain attempt to explain where the hell she’s been and why in the world she hasn’t been keeping in touch for so long (I am, in fact, notorious for putting myself in exactly these kind of situations with way too many people who for whatever crazy reason happen to be quite fond of me)...
As far as they go, my excuses aren’t as elaborate and creative as one might think. You know, the usual knee-jerk response “I’ve been busy,” “swamped,” “don’t have a free minute to myself,” etc., etc. The truth is – I have been incredibly busy during the last semester. After all, juggling four time-consuming graduate courses and 180 plus whiny undergrads demanding credit for incomplete homework, while trying to squeeze in quality time to tend to my personal life and live-in boyfriend is quite a task. And yet, even if I have been busy during the last months or so, lack of time hasn’t been the only reason keeping me from writing. For one thing, I have discovered that even when I do have a free minute or two, I simply cannot be trusted with chunks of time, unless it is punctuated with deadlines and iron-cast responsibilities. I do with time what a shopoholic does with money – squander it as if there was no tomorrow. Another factor keeping me from writing is that I am having a “content crisis” of sorts. My life of late has been rather unexciting to be able to write anything attention worthy… Or rather, if I may rephrase, even though my life of late has been extremely full, I do not think the general public would find it as exciting as it is for me. These days my creative energy is mostly channeled towards stuff that either induces boredom upon my audience (yeah, yeah, so you learned the proof of some fundamental theorem) or makes them think that I am stark raving insane (heterowhat? Serially correlated what?). And yet, during the past few months or so I have been doing nothing but live and breathe mathematics and econometrics. So unless my audience were interested in the aforementioned serially correlated errors and heteroscedasticity, I do not think anyone missed a damn thing during this long-drawn period of absence.
Perhaps some may find my life monotone and boring… During the semester my days are spent at school – morning classes, night classes, work in between… On days when I am not at school, I hardly leave the apartment and spend hours sitting in one spot, writing proofs and running estimations. I don’t particularly follow the news: sources that simply (and seemingly objectively) report the news underwhelm me with their badly written and all over the place stories; those that provide some kind of an interpretation to current events usually throw me into uncontrolled rage. My own political opinions, although unorthodox, lack insight and imagination to be voiced to anyone but my poor boyfriend and the only other meaningful political discussions that I have these days is during my weekly two-hour conversation with my mother (she gets her news from Russian sources, filters the bullshit and propaganda and then discussed them with me). I am three issues behind with Foreign Affairs, but I read each month's Playboy from cover to cover. I don’t have any particular hobbies besides running. As pathetic as this may sound, I haven’t read a single literary work in the past couple of years. Instead, I read textbooks and obscure journal articles. I don’t discuss art. I find fashion boring. My music tastes are ridiculous (current obsession – Russian pop). My culinary tastes are bland and predictable. I watch cop shows instead of decent films. My personal life is calm and cloudless. When there is drama, I usually confide to a friend who lives a couple of blocks down the street or else pay a shrink to figure it all out... The most pathetic of all is that I find this life- my current life, extremely rich and fulfilling, and even if I’m as happy as I can possibly be, this doesn’t leave me with much to write home about.
And yet, despite this time and content crisis of mine, I really miss the kind of writing that does not involve symbols and numbers. A part of me really feels nostalgic about that period of time, before starting grad school, when I had the luxury to really appreciate and write about those most ordinary things that make me happy in their everydayness… I miss the time when I was writing about my life as if I were writing a story , as if by writing it down I was giving shape and order to what otherwise was fleeting and chaotic… Because of that I know that I am not quite ready to let this blog go. Let this be my poor attempt to reconnect with it.
In case you were wondering, I haven’t fallen off the face of the earth (not yet, at least).
I have to admit that this feels kind of awkward … kind of like reconnecting with a long-lost relative of sorts, when after the first few minutes of usual exchange of pleasantries one inevitably finds herself forced to speak of an excuse or two in a vain attempt to explain where the hell she’s been and why in the world she hasn’t been keeping in touch for so long (I am, in fact, notorious for putting myself in exactly these kind of situations with way too many people who for whatever crazy reason happen to be quite fond of me)...
As far as they go, my excuses aren’t as elaborate and creative as one might think. You know, the usual knee-jerk response “I’ve been busy,” “swamped,” “don’t have a free minute to myself,” etc., etc. The truth is – I have been incredibly busy during the last semester. After all, juggling four time-consuming graduate courses and 180 plus whiny undergrads demanding credit for incomplete homework, while trying to squeeze in quality time to tend to my personal life and live-in boyfriend is quite a task. And yet, even if I have been busy during the last months or so, lack of time hasn’t been the only reason keeping me from writing. For one thing, I have discovered that even when I do have a free minute or two, I simply cannot be trusted with chunks of time, unless it is punctuated with deadlines and iron-cast responsibilities. I do with time what a shopoholic does with money – squander it as if there was no tomorrow. Another factor keeping me from writing is that I am having a “content crisis” of sorts. My life of late has been rather unexciting to be able to write anything attention worthy… Or rather, if I may rephrase, even though my life of late has been extremely full, I do not think the general public would find it as exciting as it is for me. These days my creative energy is mostly channeled towards stuff that either induces boredom upon my audience (yeah, yeah, so you learned the proof of some fundamental theorem) or makes them think that I am stark raving insane (heterowhat? Serially correlated what?). And yet, during the past few months or so I have been doing nothing but live and breathe mathematics and econometrics. So unless my audience were interested in the aforementioned serially correlated errors and heteroscedasticity, I do not think anyone missed a damn thing during this long-drawn period of absence.
Perhaps some may find my life monotone and boring… During the semester my days are spent at school – morning classes, night classes, work in between… On days when I am not at school, I hardly leave the apartment and spend hours sitting in one spot, writing proofs and running estimations. I don’t particularly follow the news: sources that simply (and seemingly objectively) report the news underwhelm me with their badly written and all over the place stories; those that provide some kind of an interpretation to current events usually throw me into uncontrolled rage. My own political opinions, although unorthodox, lack insight and imagination to be voiced to anyone but my poor boyfriend and the only other meaningful political discussions that I have these days is during my weekly two-hour conversation with my mother (she gets her news from Russian sources, filters the bullshit and propaganda and then discussed them with me). I am three issues behind with Foreign Affairs, but I read each month's Playboy from cover to cover. I don’t have any particular hobbies besides running. As pathetic as this may sound, I haven’t read a single literary work in the past couple of years. Instead, I read textbooks and obscure journal articles. I don’t discuss art. I find fashion boring. My music tastes are ridiculous (current obsession – Russian pop). My culinary tastes are bland and predictable. I watch cop shows instead of decent films. My personal life is calm and cloudless. When there is drama, I usually confide to a friend who lives a couple of blocks down the street or else pay a shrink to figure it all out... The most pathetic of all is that I find this life- my current life, extremely rich and fulfilling, and even if I’m as happy as I can possibly be, this doesn’t leave me with much to write home about.
And yet, despite this time and content crisis of mine, I really miss the kind of writing that does not involve symbols and numbers. A part of me really feels nostalgic about that period of time, before starting grad school, when I had the luxury to really appreciate and write about those most ordinary things that make me happy in their everydayness… I miss the time when I was writing about my life as if I were writing a story , as if by writing it down I was giving shape and order to what otherwise was fleeting and chaotic… Because of that I know that I am not quite ready to let this blog go. Let this be my poor attempt to reconnect with it.
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