At both my current school (Lovely Private University) and my last (Deep South U), you HAVE to click through a certificate warning to use IT resources. At Deep South U, it was the web-based e-mail client. At LPU, it’s the “guest” wireless access (which in reality is used quite a bit by university-related people). I vaguely remember that there were other services at Deep South with this same problem, and I’m sure as I use more of LPU’s resources, it will come up again.

This happens because getting proper certificates takes time and money that the IT department either don’t have (Deep South U) or don’t feel like spending (LPU). What this ultimately does is train users to think that if they can trust a site, they can trust any certificate that site hands out, leading to the problems noted in the article. The IT department is creating a “teachable moment”- which will later be taken advantage of by malicious hackers.

The ultimate reason for this is that most university IT personnel are hired on the basis of nepotism (e.g., the provost’s cousin who once installed Windows ME for her) or personality defects (“he’s scary, but good with computers- let’s transfer him from the registrar to IT). You end up with a collection of people who are at best semi-competent.

And now I’m off to the library, before all the good ideas are taken.

I remember joking with my wife that maybe I should keep a copy of the mortgage papers and deed in the front foyer, just in case. I do now. And it is no longer a joke.

This bothers me, but not because of this particular book. I mean, it was written in the 70s, by someone born at the turn of the century. I didn’t expect it to have much coverage of women’s history. What bothers me is how this is pervasive across my curriculum. Looking at my reading list, most of the books are from the 70s and 80s, and all of them are by men, about men, which means that when I (and the other graduates of this program) go out into the world, our training will have been by men, about men, unless we’ve made a special effort to educate ourselves. How are women supposed to get a fair shake in medieval history when this is what we’re taught? Talk about patriarchal equilibrium.

Since Saturday, I’ve been working my way through a hella big book, about which, along with a much slimmer volume, I need to write an essay to present to my advisor on Thursday. I’m 219 pages, with another 160 or so pages to go. 379 pages isn’t actually that large a book, by my standards, but this one is a beast- incredibly dense prose, tons of supporting evidence to read. None of which is to say that it isn’t interesting, or vitally important since there’s about a 99.99% chance it’ll be on the reading list for quals. It’s just tough reading.

For the first three days, I was only distracted by the usual factors: the mess that is my apartment, my adorable yet diabolical dog, the presence of Stargate SG-1 Season 5 on Hulu. I can overcome all that. But now, uff! The research bug has infected me.

I’ve had a project idea rattling around in my head since May, inspired by a presentation at Kalamazoo. It’s been on the back burner for two reason: (1) my last school, Deep South U, didn’t have the resources, and they would have been difficult to impossible to get through interlibrary loan, and (2) I wasn’t sure about the scale of the project (seminar paper? article? life’s work?).

Last night, two things happened: first, I found exactly the resources I need in Lovely Private University’s library. second, I realized that this thing could be written fairly easily, and it’ll be article-length. It’s a bit too esoteric to use as a class paper- I don’t think anywhere offers classes on this topic except maybe Oxbridge. Now that I know this project is doable, the research bug has appeared, demanding that I get my fine self over to the library and get cracking.

Which brings us back to the hella big book, and the essay for Thursday that isn’t going to write itself. You would think that having something to look forward to would help me move faster, but no. The research bug takes every paragraph as a deliberate insult- how could anything be more important than research? Coursework? What the heck is coursework? Ugh.

Me: hey dog.

Dog: hey there. can we go to the park?

Me: No, I’m busy.

Dog: It’s beautiful out, and I’m bored. Why can’t we go?

Me: Because I have this hella big book my advisor assigned me that I need to finish by Wednesday.

Dog: Oh, ok. I guess that’s a good reason….you know your leather shoes?

Me: The good ones? The $200 Italian ones?

Dog: Yeah, those. It’d be a shame if anything happened to them.

Me: ….

Dog: …..Yeah. I’ll get the leash, you finish up that page.

Someday, principle will win.

I’m a history grad student at Lovely Private University. I’m new to the PhD program here, but I just finished my MA at Deep South U, so I’m a new grad student, but not brand new. I did my BA at a large public school in the northeast, and went to high school at a middling public school. The point to take from this is, up to this point in my education, I’ve been at public institutions.

It’s been a big change getting used to Lovely Private University. Everything and everyone is so NICE. The library has the books I need, and they let me take them out of the building for months at a time. The department secretary is genuinely helpful, not angry and bitter. None of the buildings stink because they have carpet older than I am. A lot of time that I’m on campus, I feel like I don’t belong- like any minute they’re going to realize I’m just some nobody and yank my funding. I’m just not used to being in surroundings this plush. It’s made me extremely meek, in my dealings with staff, faculty, and other grad students.

Today I had a moment that brought this feeling into focus. I was headed to the library, and needed to pass between a couple of athletic fields (being a grad student, I couldn’t tell you which ones- soccer? football?). I followed the path that went around and between the fields.

There had been an undergrad about five paces behind me for most of my walk. As I walked around the fields, I realized I couldn’t hear him anymore, so I looked around, and saw him walking across the grass. Totally confident, not looking around like he was breaking a rule or anything, and not doing it to show off. He was just taking the fastest route from A to B, and not worrying too much about where he walked.

It sounds ridiculous, but something popped in my brain at that moment- a little realization that went something like: ”He’s walking across the grass! Can he do that? I guess he can. Could I do that? I could do that!”

Somehow, watching him switched something on in my brain. I don’t need to walk on eggshells. It’s a good department at a good school, and an excellent department for my field- getting in with funding speaks extremely well of me. I was wanted. Screw shitty public school origins, I belong here.

Tomorrow, I’m walking across the damned grass.