Welcome to Dissertation Hell: A (hilarious) Handbook for Doctoral Students

Welcome to Dissertation Hell

A Hilarious Handbook for Doctoral Students

Selected Posts from The Hellish Handbasket Blog

Written, Illustrated, and Published at Smashwords by

Carol B. (AKA The Chronic Malcontent)

Copyright 2014 Carol M. Booton, Ph.D.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table Of Contents

Preface

Introduction

Welcome to the Hellish Handbasket

Clearing the decks

Concept Paper: Let the Pain Begin

Math anxiety and the wreckage of the future

Back in dissertation hell

Perplexed and confused as usual by my students

What happens next?

My life is a farce

Wallowing in the messy bog

It's always something

I've been sent to committee

Dissertation limbo and a diatribe about the Gainful Employment rule

My life is the unfolding result of many small decisions

The terminal degree is the one that kills you

Life before Google is not worth remembering

It's cool to be old!

Make sure your paragraphs are straightforward and reasonably short

How to lose friends and alienate people without even trying

You can change the world in just 15 minutes a day

It could be worse

If I sit on the sidelines, I don't get to play the game

I'm so screwed

My resentment slip is showing again

More to be revealed

I'm lean, mean, mode, and median: Hire me, I'm yours!

One person's mountain is another's mole hill, or something like that

Waiting

Time to put on my thinking cap

Curiouser and curiouser

Toward a theory of malcontentedness

Malfunction alert: the temperature has fallen below the unit's optimum range

Where burned out teachers go

The few, the proud, the over-educated

Focus on the learning, not on the grade

Super size me! Yeeee-haaaawww!

Miscellaneous musings from the chronic malcontent

The committee is AWOL: I didn't cause it, I can't control it, and I sure can't cure it

Axe me no questions

Inky, dinky, stinky, my life is a speck

When the pain of this is worse than the fear of that

Waiting, still...again

A nasty, bitter cosmic soup

How to be thankful for an annoying neighbor

Bring me the head of the Baby Jesus

The surreal night off

Trudging into the future

Resistance to change: The ongoing challenge

Proposal: The Academic Equivalent of Waterboarding

Whining: Anger coming out a really small hole

The for-profit college motto: Move 'em in and move 'em out!

I'd be running in circles if I could only remember why

The chronic malcontent is feeling nasty, brutish, and short

Hold the presses: I need to slow my chi down

Feeling anything but safe

Flogging a dubious metaphor

I'm not ready to be unemployed

They move on, and we stand still

We're not happy until you're not happy

Dueling stereos and the wretched dissertation proposal

Get on down to the spiritual axiom

Win a few, lose a few

Change can be good

It's official... life sucks

How to survive a campus closing

The slippery slope to slovenly behavior

Do I look like a risk taker to you?

Is it possible for-profit colleges don't really care about quality?

If nothing else, I can serve as a bad example

Eye-rolling at the Love Shack

Doing the time warp... again

Exposing my dirty red underbelly

Letting go of resentments, old and new

Data Collection: Life on Life's Terms

Zip about php

No longer looking in the rear view mirror

Catching bullets in my teeth

What not to do if you are a career college

What I have learned about the dissertation journey

How to blend in to your neighborhood

Don't count your chickens before they tear your lips off

Summer's last kiss

Trying not to put words in their mouths

The chronic malcontent makes the best of a curry powder migraine

Manuscript: The Massive Wretched Tome

Will I ever stop doubting? It's doubtful

Whine on, whine on harvest moon

You can stop wondering. I'm alive.

The chronic malcontent slogs through another day

The chronic malcontent feels resentment at a sorry-ass data entry snoid

The chronic malcontent grudgingly admires her clean curtains

The chronic malcontent deals with it

De-cluttering the chronic malcontent

Take a deep breath, be here now, eat some pie

Climbing the mountain, but slowly, slowly

The chronic malcontent twiddles and frets

Believe it or not, this doctorate is almost done. Really. I'm not joking this time.

Defense: The Student Becomes a Scholar

Waiting again, and while I wait, I plan my oral defense

How do you know when you're in the flow?

Zen and the art of waiting

Stick a fork in me

Is there life after doctorate?

Reflection

Dissertation Hell: Get me off this Z-ticket ride!

Tips for Your Doctoral Journey

Epilogue

Preface

Pursuing a doctoral degree is not a trivial task. It's not for the faint of heart. Nor is it a project for quitters. Earning a Ph.D. is something only daft crazy people do. I mean, only a daft crazy person would spend eight years and upwards of $50,000 to gain the right to add a few extra letters after his or her name. Am I right? If it weren't a ridiculous, virtually impossible goal, everyone would have a Ph.D. You could buy half a dozen at the supermarket, in different languages. Everyone would be Doctor. How fun!

But as I mentioned, earning a doctorate might be something only daft crazy people do. I was one of those daft crazies. At the end of 2005, in an effort to become more valuable to my then-employer (a for-profit career college), I enrolled at an online for-profit university. My plan was to earn a Ph.D. in Marketing, thereby transforming me into a highly educated (and highly desirable) instructor of marketing. I had no Master's degree, so I started at the bottom. Slowly, I began climbing toward my goal, taking one course at a time, for six years, culminating at the end of 2011 in the successful completion of the Comprehensive Exam.

To document my journey (and to keep from going insane), I started a blog in early 2012. I called it The Hellish Handbasket. Part diatribe, part memoir, The Hellish Handbasket blog has something for everyone, but is especially relevant for doctoral students.

Welcome to Dissertation Hell is a compilation of selected posts from the Hellish Handbasket Blog, written and illustrated by Carol B. (AKA The Chronic Malcontent). Each post marks a memorable moment on her two-year journey from A.B.D. doctoral candidate to Ph.D. scholar. Amusing pen-and-ink drawings illustrate many of the posts.

Whom is this book for?

The intended audience for this ebook (besides my long-suffering family and friends) consists of:

Graduate students working toward a doctorate

People who are considering enrolling in a graduate program to work toward a doctorate

Friends and family of someone who is working toward a doctorate

Recently matriculated Ph.D.s who want to relive their trauma and celebrate their well-earned accomplishments

What is this book about?

This ebook is a collection of blog posts from my blog, The Hellish Handbasket, documenting the final two years in my quest to complete the doctorate. The chronicle begins in January of 2012, after I had earned the title of A.B.D. (which means All But Dissertation, or alternatively, All But Dead). The chronicle concludes in early 2014with my victorious wresting of the doctoral degree from the cold dry claws of the university.

The posts are (I hope) humorous. My humor can be a bit dry. Probably it's an acquired taste. However, scattered throughout the ebook are hints, tips, and bits of advice for the aspiring doctoral learner. As an added bonus, many of the posts are illustrated with uniquely ridiculous pen-and-ink drawings culled from my years of journals and sketchbooks: Yes, I confess, the drawings are mine.

What is the Hellish Handbasket Blog?

The Hellish Handbasket Blog, originally created to document my doctoral journey, quickly metamorphosed into an online therapy session, a place for me to rant about life in general and my life in particular. Blogging as The Chronic Malcontent, I covered many topics during the first two years, notably my employment at (and dis-employment from) a local career college, my so-called art career, my apartment (fondly labeled The Love Shack), my cat Eddie (AKA Squint Eastwood), my mother, my neighbors, plus many other topics that seemed ripe for skewering. There's always something to complain about: The blog lives on. As far as I know, I have approximately six regular readers: my sister and five friends, Carlita, Bravadita, V. (AKA Prosprus)., E., and D. (AKA Denny). Where everyone else comes from, I have no idea. (But thanks!)

Who is The Chronic Malcontent?

Many people are The Chronic Malcontent. You might know a few. You might be one yourself. I don’t have a monopoly on the term. (Google it, you’ll see.) It’s a term you’ll sometimes hear in the Twelve Step recovery world, if you listen for it. It never fails to make me smile. Especially since I found out I'm actually a closet optimist.

Am I anonymous?

I started blogging anonymously to avoid getting into trouble with the career college, especially during the time they were closing our campus and laying off all the teachers. I didn’t have a lot of good things to say about them during that time, so it’s probably good I stayed under the radar, so to speak. But many of my colleagues knew I was blogging anonymously as The Chronic Malcontent. Graciously, they helped me maintain my anonymity. Now that I no longer work for the career college and now that my Ph.D. journey is complete, it seems to matter less if my name is revealed. If you look, you will find my full name on the Copyright page.

—Carol B., The Chronic Malcontent, 2014

Introduction

Welcome to the chronicle of my journey through Dissertation Hell. These short essays are the original posts from the Hellish Handbasket Blog, with the exception of a few typo repairs, some image deletions to reduce the file size, and the replacement of one duplicate image. After this introduction, I offer you five main chapters that align with the process of earning the doctorate: concept, proposal, data collection, manuscript, and defense.

The first chapter, The Concept Paper: Let the Pain Begin, chronicles my attempt to finish my concept paper, for me the most difficult, most lengthy, most frustrating part of my dissertation process. After the concept was finally approved, I was able to move on to the next phase, the dissertation proposal, which I describe in Proposal: The Academic Equivalent of Waterboarding (Do I sound frustrated?) During this time period, I was laid off from my job.

Finally I received approval to begin collecting data, which is the focus of the next chapter, Data Collection: Life on Life's Terms. During data collection, I encountered some unexpected setbacks. (What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, right?) At last all the data were collected, and I was able to work on the dissertation manuscript, which I fondly describe in the next chapter, Manuscript: The Massive Wretched Tome. By this point, I could sense the end was near... in a good way. In Defense: The Student Becomes a Scholar, I reflect on the end days of my academic journey.

Three short chapters close the book. In Reflection: Dissertation Hell: Get Me Off This Z-Ticket Ride, I summarize the entire dissertation experience in one essay. (If you remember when riding Disneyland's best rides required an E-ticket, you can imagine what a Z-ticket might be like.) I follow it with Tips for Your Doctoral Journey, which you might find useful if you are still mid-journey. And finally, like many authors who are intoxicated with the sound of their own verbiage, I close with an Epilogue.

One note about the illustrations: Every week for the past 19 years I have been sitting in meetings, drawing in my notebook. The drawings in the Hellish Handbasket are culled from my journals, and represent moments in time, sometimes not so carefully rendered. Hence you will see varied levels of quality. In other words, some drawings are clearer than others. The digital scanning process was also undertaken at various points over the past few years, not always at the same resolution. And then fitting them into the blog required some fancy footwork with Paint and other nonprofessional programs... you can see that what we get is a melange of quality. I hope the illustrations will be rendered adequately by your e-reader, so you can get the jokes. If not, you can search for the original post on the Hellish Handbasket Blog.

Let's start at the beginning. The following post was the first blog post of the Hellish Handbasket Blog. As you will see, I was self-consciously searching for my authentic voice. It eluded me for a time. I couldn't imagine that anyone would ever be interested in anything I had to say. But I knew I needed a place to say it, whatever needed to be said. It's creepy-eerie how prescient were some of my early posts.

Welcome to Dissertation Hell.

JANUARY 17, 2012

Welcome to the Hellish Handbasket

Welcome to another useless, pointless blog of self-obsessed palaver by a chronic malcontent.

My name is Carol, and I admit it: I’m a chronic malcontent. What is a chronic malcontent? Someone who is never satisfied, can never be happy, sees only half empty through mud-colored glasses, and goes through each day with a personal rain cloud the way Pigpen traveled with his own dust cloud. But Pigpen was happy (I think). Chronic malcontents have honed discontentment to an art form.

I’m not sure why I’m writing this. It’s unlikely anyone will ever read it, considering I don’t plan to tell anyone this blog exists. It’s sort of like the online equivalent of a message in a bottle. But I’m not asking, is anyone out there? It’s more like I’m just letting the universe know I’m pissed.

What have I got to be angry about? Thanks for asking. Really, nothing. I’m white, and I live in America. I mean, I should be grateful, counting my blessings, thanking god (if there is a god), right? But on the other hand, I’m female and 55, so I think I’m entitled to gripe. Plus I’m in graduate school. Plus I teach at one of the dreaded career colleges people love to hate. Plus I’m packing too many pounds as I try to recover from a misguided bout of veganism. Plus I’m single and I haven’t had sex in 8 ½ years. Is that enough? What do you think, have I earned the right to complain?

Relax. It’s not like anyone is going to read this. Certainly not you.

So, in classic nihilist style, I’ve claimed there is no point to this narcissistic endeavor. But not everything has to have a point. Does it? Sometimes the best art is the kind that seems completely irrelevant. Like art about nihilism, for example. I used to be pair-bonded to a nihilist, but that is another story. I’ve done all the complaining about that relationship that I’m going to do. Long time ago, blah blah blah, old news, ho hum.

This blog will be divided into themes that represent the different levels of hell in my life.

Dissertation hell

Art hell

Relationship hell

Vegan hell

Employment hell

Introvert hell

I'm sure there are other hells that will manifest from time to time, as hells are wont to do. Maybe you will find something hellish to relate to. But since no one is reading this, it doesn’t really matter.

Why the name handbasket? Well, obviously it comes from the amusing cliché of going to hell in a handbasket. I’m not sure I know what a handbasket is, do you? I picture a sort of wicker, rickety affair with a crooked handle. That’s not all that funny, I know: I’ve received (and given) plenty of holiday gifts in baskets just like that. You can get them at Goodwill for $2.00. What’s funny about going to hell in a handbasket is the image I get in my mind of all my friends, family, colleagues, in fact the entire stinky swell of humanity, tossed into a rickety wicker basket, sliding down a dark tunnel toward hell as we elbow each other for room and scream at the top of our lungs. To me, that is funny. Maybe that relationship with the nihilist had some lasting effect on me. Hmmm.

Although, now that I am examining my mental image of the handbasket scene, my perspective is from outside the basket. Do I actually think I am exempt from going to hell in this handbasket of humanity? No, not at all. But I can’t quite imagine myself sitting in that cramped and smelly pile of bodies. It’s more like I’m discorporate, a disembodied intellect floating alongside the squirming mass, maybe taking virtual pictures. Which I would post on Facebook, of course. If I had a Facebook page, which I don’t.

So come along for the ride. Or not. Who cares. In any case, it’s quite likely my attempts to write this egotistical blog will go the way of millions of other self-absorbed, egotistical blogs: passwords forgotten, thoughts frozen in time, pages lost in cyberspace, maybe stumbled on by accident once in a millennium by a stray traveler, who reads a few lines and quickly clicks the back button muttering a one-word judgment that sums up the entire hopeless, useless, pointless endeavor: Lame.

JANUARY 22, 2012

Clearing the decks

In preparation for the next adventure in Dissertation Hell, I started going through some of my old journals, looking for drawings I could scan to put on this blog, and I came across some that made me laugh. However, it occurred to me that I may need to trade in my art persona for a more professional image, if I'm going to get a job in academe.

My problem is, I vacillate between thinking I'm an artist and a scholar. Some days I want to chuck it all and head for the hills with my paint box. Other days I think burying myself in esoteric articles about whether quality is measurable is the greatest pursuit on the planet. I feel like I'm going nuts.

It's fun to look at my old drawings, though. They have nothing to do with scholarly research. But they sure are funny. Oh boy, now I'm back in Art Hell. Argh! Why can't someone pay me to draw and paint what I want?

I predict that in about one year, I will have a similar complaint, but it will be along the lines of Why can't someone pay me to research and study what I want?

Which leads me back to what I've known all along. I'm a chronic malcontent. Nothing will truly make me happy, because happiness for a chronic malcontent is unattainable. Why do I even bother talking about it, nobody cares. Bla bla bla.

Concept Paper: Let the Pain Begin

JANUARY 23, 2012

Math anxiety and the wreckage of the future

Today is the first day of my first official dissertation course, the 12-week period in which I am expected to revise my concept paper and write the dissertation proposal. I logged on to the university website, entered the course room, and clicked the little button that gives the school permission to deduct $2,380 from my bank account. I took a breath and said a prayer before I clicked it. Only for a brief moment did I contemplate the thought of not clicking it. Dissertation hell, here I come.

I started this journey in 2006. One course at a time, I've dipped my inquiring mind into a long list of interesting subjects, even ones that weren't in the business department, such as The Art and Science of Adult Education and Foundations of E-Learning. I was lucky to have many choices for electives. When I started attending this online university, learners could choose from a veritable smorgasbord of subjects.

A few years ago, the school sold out to an investment company, and the hatches were battened down. Learners were given a pre-designed program. The curriculum was set. No more choices. I was lucky. And here I am, six years later, much older, wearier, and arguably no wiser than when I started.

I've changed some since 2006, but my same old fears are still with me. Am I smart enough to do this? Will my bank account hold out? How can I fool everyone that I am statistically competent? Will there be a job for me, at the advanced age of 55, when I finally