Worst. Email Exchange. Ever.

(C-Day minus committee revisions, defence) So I finally received word from Supervisor regarding my thesis draft. It took him about a week/forever (when it is your wordy child being graded). So did he lavish me with praise? Hammer me with criticism? Give any indication as to his thoughts? You tell me, here is the email:

"Hi Matt

I have read it and made marginal comments. We should meet and discuss. Cheers. Supervisor"

Are you kidding me? That was my life's work...in fact my Greatest Writing Work (GWW)! Marginal comments - good! Should meet - bad. What does this mean? So I retort:

"Dear Supervisor,

Thanks again for going through the draft so quickly [....] Can we set up a chat on the phone sometime before the weekend? Just let me know when I can call, and I will do so. Cheers. Matt"

Saying thanks for the speed is me sounding calmer than I feel. I ask for a phone call because clearly I am *dying* for feedback, having received none so far. I am trying to politely ask for feedback without sounding desperate (am I trying to date him?). He responded quickly:

"Face to face would be better, Matt. I want to go over some of the written comments I have placed in the margins [....]. Supervisor."

Cue heart sinking. Face to face? You mean you can't just say "awesome" over the phone? Uh-oh. This feels bad. This confirms the bad feelings for not having any feedback previously. My head is spinning, I am writing and rewriting responses to this in my head. I want to plead with him, "Please, I can try harder! I can do more! I'm not like this!" (are we breaking up?). My response:

"Hi Supervisor,

Sure that would be fine. [...] Thanks for being so accommodating. In the meantime, can you give me your general sense of the draft, for example, are there specific sections I should pay close attention to in preparation for our meeting?"

This is me at my best. I am trying my hardest not to grovel for feedback, which I, at this point, need in order to breathe. Also, I am trying not to just yell "GIVE ME AN ADJECTIVE!!!" Anything would have done at that point. Bad. Great! Profound! Pedantic. Long. Written in black ink. I just needed something. His response to my 'took hours to craft' plea:

"There is no particular section to look at"

KABOOM!!! I don't even know *what* to think. My mind explodes with possibilities. When your mind explodes, you can really only revert to your most base instincts. So I did what anyone would do. I called my mom. Cue peace of mind and wise motherly analogies.

I went into the meeting with Supervisor and was pleasantly surprised with mostly editorial revisions (Are you kidding me?! Adjectives go a long way for peace of mind, Supervisor) and Supervisor was super nice. We walked through the entire thing, page by page in his kitchen (how awesome is he?). Afterwards the whole thing felt within reach and I was ready to jump into it (after the Olympics of course). Meeting conclusion = feeling pretty swell. As I was beaming out of Supervisors front door, I paused at the top of his driveway to look to the sky and appreciate a cool evening and pleasant encounter, when my phone rings in my hand. Like only a mother could, it was a perfectly timed call from across the country late at night, away from her home on a cell, in hushed tones to keep from waking the grandmother. "How did it go?" How did she know?

An unforgettable Olympic weekend and a delightful email exchange with a new friend have done much to recover the damage done by my worst enemy (at times): my imagination. GWW is on the up on up.

'Could have been Supervisor's last email' song of the day: Didn't I (Blow Your Mind This Time) - The Delfonics

p.s. Just to be clear: My supervisor is awesome, and gives me far more time than I deserve. Despite my frustration with our email exchange he is quite thoughtful and super nice. I don't want to leave you with the wrong impression, this is just one of those funny exchanges that is only really funny after the fact because my inner monologue was so ridiculous.

Cold Sweat

(C-Day minus final revisions, defence) Yesterday was a big day, a big terrifying day. The academic semester is sort of misleading in that it doesn't overlap with the thesis completion calendar. In order to get a thesis finished, defended and handed in, a draft needs to go into the supervisor pretty much by the beginning of the second month of the term (Feb., May, or November). This of course makes the beginning of each term a little angst ridden in that as much as it means a new start, it also means that the hammer will soon drop. In any event, this meant that I would not and could not wait for more revisions to come in, and I had to throw myself on the mercy of my supervisor. This is not to say that I am not immensely proud of what I have written thus far, it just means that there may be some undesirables in the thesis as a whole, which is why it was a terrifying day.

The email to which my thesis was attached took me about half an hour to craft, but I can safely say they are a high quality three sentences...of terror! This fine tuning was followed by an additional half hour of humming and hawing over actually sending this finely crafted email, with a finely crafted thesis attached to it to my supervisor. But I did it! I clicked 'send'....and immediately regretted it. Not because I would have done anything differently, but it was that move that could not be taken back. It was like taking your finger off the chess piece, only to look to your opponents determined eyes and regret the move for reasons as of yet unknown to you. So I sweat. Then I sweat some more. Then I got over it. But then I sweat a little more. I sweat because I wasn't sure when I would get a response, even just to say that it had been received and that I wasn't so deficient that I couldn't send an email - a very real possibility given the state I was in.

Somehow I managed to make it through the night, and received my confirmation email today. Two lines (though I doubt it took Supervisor more than 15 seconds to 'craft') that said thanks (he's so nice!) and that he would get back to me "soon". Cue sweating. Soon? You mean judgement passes soon?! How soon? Not too soon. I need a moment to forget that it is off my plate for the moment. Give me a moment! But not too many moments - don't want to start sweating over why it is taking so long. Obviously there is nothing fun about this process, I don't recommend it - not to friends anyways. At least it only lasts a few more days...then it is on to the revisions stress followed closely by the defence stress. Hurray Masters programs!!!

If I was friends (it'd have to be good friends) with Brian Wilson song of the day: Don't Worry Baby - Beach Boys

Back Up! I Need Back Up!

(C-Day minus 1 edits, revisions, defence) An open letter to computer virus designers:

Dear a-holes,

You make me sad.

Unkind regards,
Guy Drinking Milk

So my computer is in the shop because it was shut down by a particularly nasty virus. Don't ask me how I am writing this...it's maa-a-gic. This virus will cost me at least 100$ which I would gladly collect in teeth from these hackers...any hackers really. It is a job and industry of zero moral value. Virus software and other programming companies' hiring of "successful" virus programmers make some feel warm and fuzzy because obviously the "best" are off the "streets" and working for the "good guys" now, but really, what is it other than perpetuating the idea that the most prolific virus = fattest paycheque, ad nauseum. Those fat paycheques should go entirely into dentistry bills while allowing anyone impacted by their virus to knock a few teeth in.

One thing that has come out of getting this virus has been the emphatic reminder to back up anything I wish not to lose (my thesis, my music, my pictures...probably in that order). While I have everything that I have created or added to my computer backed up on an external harddrive (as well as a few friends' music libraries too. Genius move!), I also have a lot stored online. While some may hark at the fact that I ranked my documents and my tunes ahead of pictures of my family, friends, etc, most of those pictures are happily stored either on Facebook or with the emails in which they were sent to me.

Which brings me to my 2nd PSA (the first one was for the mothers of hackers - keep them in the basement if you want to continue to see them smile), which is to keep your email account organized! Folders! Folders! Folders! I would hazard a guess at the number of emails in my account being in the many thousands, but I keep them all neatly filed away in folders. One for emails with pictures, one for anytime I email myself something, one for articles, and a few for individuals who email me frequently. It is through these folders (and my constant emailing to myself copies of minutely altered copies of the thesis) that I am able to safely back up, as well as track the progress of my thesis. Wonderful, aside from clearly seeing how slow this process has been. Ugh. I could write a paper on the trends of my writing, were I not so engrossed in my writing. Interestingly enough, highly productive weeks and highly unproductive weeks look exactly the same - long time between emails.

'Song virus' (ear worm/tune stuck in your head) of the day (for the hackers): It's a Small World After all - the Disney Childrens Chorus
The 'this is what you are, hacker' song of the day: A-Punk - Vampire Weekend

all this virus talk, I may have to get a Mac...