Sorry I haven't written in over a month. I've been preoccupied with my fieldwork and this semester has been racing by much more quickly than I had planned.
Actually, I'm not exactly "sorry" for not having updated—I have a perfectly good reason and the people nearest and dearest to me are kept in the loop anyway. But that's the setup for this post: a couple weeks back I was talking to a Swede whom I hadn't kept in regular touch with. When they gently chided me on that point I said I was sorry, I had been so busy that week. They then said that Americans are masters of saying sorry when it isn't necessary. (i.e. "Sorry, I didn't hear you.") It wasn't the first time I had been accused of being overly apologetic, though it was the first time it had been attributed to my culture. I don't view myself as overly apologetic in general (and in the context of that example it made perfect sense to me to say sorry) although I perhaps was so in the past.
The definition of an apology is a statement of regret. So when I realized that it got me thinking: if people are told to live lives without regret, wouldn't that mean that they should never apologize for anything? Now certainly, one shouldn't apologize for not living in the way someone else would have preferred and not feel regret for something just because someone is judging you. The idea of not becoming preoccupied with the less than optimal outcomes of one's choices in life makes perfect sense to me. But if one really believes that one shouldn't consider getting absolutely trashed at a party and waking up with a stranger the next day a regret, but "a learning experience" then you can turn the most mundane things into "learning experiences" and do away with regret—and hence apologies—all together. You accidentally bumped into someone on your way to class and knocked over the giant stack of books they were carrying? No need to apologize. No regrets, remember? Now you should still help them, no regrets doesn't mean you don't hold yourself responsible for your actions. You're checking your email and you lose track of time, you're supposed to meet your friend at 2:00 but you arrive at 2:30 instead. No need to say you're sorry, after all you shouldn't have regrets.
I am not seriously advocating abandoning the practice of apologizing entirely. I'm simply pointing out that if one subscribes to the idea that you're not supposed to regret the big stuff, then you certainly shouldn't regret the small stuff. And if you don't mean an apology, you shouldn't say it, right? So what is to be done?
Thoughts, comments?
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Monday, March 09, 2009
What am I?
The question in this case isn't all that existential, but more concerning heritage. This question of my own identity serendipitously occurs while I'm doing my fieldwork which partly examines the attitude Swedes have toward immigrants. When I say "Swede" I mean "ethnic Swede" and when I say "immigrants" I mean both actual immigrants and those of non-ethnic Swedish descent but were born and raised in Sweden. From what I can tell, there are three ways to define someone as Swedish: ethnically, nationally or culturally. Most people living in Sweden are all three, but there are plenty of people who are only the last two. From my perspective, it is these last two—especially culture—that are the most important, but this is an American way of looking at things. Ethnicity in the US is a novelty; something cool that makes us interesting, something that we can draw a sense of pride from, but when it comes down to it, we're all Americans—at heart and on paper. In Sweden, the dominant culture seems to believe that if you are not ethnically a Swede, then you are simply a citizen of Sweden.
One of my Swedish friends here told me about how their grandparents on her mother's side are Finnish, which would make her mother ethnically Finnish even if she is culturally and nationally Swedish. She wasn't sure if that made her half or a quarter Finnish herself and asked me which it was. I said that from my understanding of ancestry she would be half Finnish because two ethnic Finns can only produce an ethnically Finnish child. She countered that she knows a fair number of people who would then be half Finnish, though they have chosen to identify themselves as ethnically Swedish because they are culturally and nationally Swedish.
So what does this have to do with me and my identity? I am officially one half Polish, one quarter Austrian and one quarter Lithuanian. There was at some point some confusion as to whether or not my family was Romanian rather than Austrian from the accounts of my grandmother, though that was likely due to the confusion caused by the territory of Austria-Hungary at the beginning of the 20th century. It is nearly certain my ethnic makeup contains at least those three groups, but lately I've been wondering if there's something more in my background. Over the years there have been a fair number of people who thought I might be part Asian or American Indian, oftentimes citing the shape of my eyes. I've noticed that Finnic peoples such as Finns and Saami have rather distinctively shaped eyes that bear a superficial similarity to Asian features. Estonians are also a Finnic people, and only about 100 miles from Lithuania so I wonder if I might have some Estonian ancestry as well. That's pure speculation on my part, but it would explain a bit. What isn't speculation is that my surname, Turausky, means "from Turau". Turau is a city in Belarus, hundreds of miles from the Lithuanian border. So if surnames are patrilineally descended then it seems reasonable to conclude that there is at least a small amount of ethnic Belorussian in my family as well.
None of this is ultimately that surprising and scintillating given that these ethnic groups are within a few hundred miles of one another (and as a good anthropologist I should mention that if you go far enough back, we're all Africans) but it does show how easy it is to forget—or choose not to remember—ethnic heritage when moving to a new country.
One of my Swedish friends here told me about how their grandparents on her mother's side are Finnish, which would make her mother ethnically Finnish even if she is culturally and nationally Swedish. She wasn't sure if that made her half or a quarter Finnish herself and asked me which it was. I said that from my understanding of ancestry she would be half Finnish because two ethnic Finns can only produce an ethnically Finnish child. She countered that she knows a fair number of people who would then be half Finnish, though they have chosen to identify themselves as ethnically Swedish because they are culturally and nationally Swedish.
So what does this have to do with me and my identity? I am officially one half Polish, one quarter Austrian and one quarter Lithuanian. There was at some point some confusion as to whether or not my family was Romanian rather than Austrian from the accounts of my grandmother, though that was likely due to the confusion caused by the territory of Austria-Hungary at the beginning of the 20th century. It is nearly certain my ethnic makeup contains at least those three groups, but lately I've been wondering if there's something more in my background. Over the years there have been a fair number of people who thought I might be part Asian or American Indian, oftentimes citing the shape of my eyes. I've noticed that Finnic peoples such as Finns and Saami have rather distinctively shaped eyes that bear a superficial similarity to Asian features. Estonians are also a Finnic people, and only about 100 miles from Lithuania so I wonder if I might have some Estonian ancestry as well. That's pure speculation on my part, but it would explain a bit. What isn't speculation is that my surname, Turausky, means "from Turau". Turau is a city in Belarus, hundreds of miles from the Lithuanian border. So if surnames are patrilineally descended then it seems reasonable to conclude that there is at least a small amount of ethnic Belorussian in my family as well.
None of this is ultimately that surprising and scintillating given that these ethnic groups are within a few hundred miles of one another (and as a good anthropologist I should mention that if you go far enough back, we're all Africans) but it does show how easy it is to forget—or choose not to remember—ethnic heritage when moving to a new country.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Jantelagom
Getting a Swedish bank account has been more trouble than I thought, though by the end of it I'm pretty sure I can navigate all the procedures concerning my account entirely in Swedish, so at least some good has come out of the web of bureaucracy.
In more interesting news, I came across a book called "The Swedish Code" in the local library. It's written in English and is designed as a kind of field manual for immigrants or businesspeople who spend a lot of time in Sweden. The core of the book is a discussion on the practical outward effects of the Swedish Jante Law. The virtues of modesty and inconspicuousness can sometimes conflict with other cultures in unexpected ways. One consequence of Swedish modesty is how easy it can be to come off as a braggart. Any kind of impressive statement can be misconstrued as boastfulness, even if it's an honest answer to a question (therefore, when someone asked how many countries I've been to, I probably should not have said 22). One story concerned a Somalian immigrant with a degree in chemistry from Russia and proficiency in six languages. He does not list the languages on his job resume because while he did he was never able to get a job because to the Swedes it sounds like boasting. Now here's something I'd like to look at a bit more: suppose this individual hadn't learned this lesson on Swedish modesty? Might one then only see a qualified, motivated and intelligent black man being turned down for a job in favor of a white, seemingly average quality employee instead? Might they then misinterpret a cultural misunderstanding as racist hiring practices?
They also mention that the Swedes (to some degree at least) trust their government. They believe that it acts in their best interests and while it might not always be totally competent, it is generally a benevolent organization. That stands in contrast to, well, pretty much everywhere else. American checks and balances are built into the system because of an inherent fear of government, France distrusted their government so much they executed the royalty, Germany's misplaced trust in their government resulted in one of the most infamous events in history, in the home countries of the hundreds of thousands of political refugees living in Sweden something went horribly wrong in the government to make them flee for their lives. But because Swedish history is so different, they're much more inclined to believe the government is working for them, not against them. That might be why only half of Swedes seem to be opposed to the FRA Law whereas it scares the hell out of everyone else.
The book is largely apocryphal and as a result some of their views of Swedish society contradict my own observations. Even if it isn't quite an academically rigorous text, it's nice to have an independent source come to many of the same conclusions I have concerning Sweden.
The writers don't really assume the reader's country of origin, as a result you don't get just a comparison between Swedish and American, or German or Dutch cultures but more of a multifaceted approach. It's rather interesting because pretty much everything they phrase to the effect of, "Now this might seem really strange, but in Sweden it's customary to tell the truth." This is for people from non-Western countries where misrepresenting the truth is considered an everyday occurrence and not "lying", per se. Some of the things they say are genuinely different from American culture and some of them are only different to some Americans. Personally, the rules about not striking up conversations with strangers on the subway, not being too outwardly emotional, or respecting and appreciating nature make perfect sense to me, but I know many Americans that would have a real hard time with them.
In more interesting news, I came across a book called "The Swedish Code" in the local library. It's written in English and is designed as a kind of field manual for immigrants or businesspeople who spend a lot of time in Sweden. The core of the book is a discussion on the practical outward effects of the Swedish Jante Law. The virtues of modesty and inconspicuousness can sometimes conflict with other cultures in unexpected ways. One consequence of Swedish modesty is how easy it can be to come off as a braggart. Any kind of impressive statement can be misconstrued as boastfulness, even if it's an honest answer to a question (therefore, when someone asked how many countries I've been to, I probably should not have said 22). One story concerned a Somalian immigrant with a degree in chemistry from Russia and proficiency in six languages. He does not list the languages on his job resume because while he did he was never able to get a job because to the Swedes it sounds like boasting. Now here's something I'd like to look at a bit more: suppose this individual hadn't learned this lesson on Swedish modesty? Might one then only see a qualified, motivated and intelligent black man being turned down for a job in favor of a white, seemingly average quality employee instead? Might they then misinterpret a cultural misunderstanding as racist hiring practices?
They also mention that the Swedes (to some degree at least) trust their government. They believe that it acts in their best interests and while it might not always be totally competent, it is generally a benevolent organization. That stands in contrast to, well, pretty much everywhere else. American checks and balances are built into the system because of an inherent fear of government, France distrusted their government so much they executed the royalty, Germany's misplaced trust in their government resulted in one of the most infamous events in history, in the home countries of the hundreds of thousands of political refugees living in Sweden something went horribly wrong in the government to make them flee for their lives. But because Swedish history is so different, they're much more inclined to believe the government is working for them, not against them. That might be why only half of Swedes seem to be opposed to the FRA Law whereas it scares the hell out of everyone else.
The book is largely apocryphal and as a result some of their views of Swedish society contradict my own observations. Even if it isn't quite an academically rigorous text, it's nice to have an independent source come to many of the same conclusions I have concerning Sweden.
The writers don't really assume the reader's country of origin, as a result you don't get just a comparison between Swedish and American, or German or Dutch cultures but more of a multifaceted approach. It's rather interesting because pretty much everything they phrase to the effect of, "Now this might seem really strange, but in Sweden it's customary to tell the truth." This is for people from non-Western countries where misrepresenting the truth is considered an everyday occurrence and not "lying", per se. Some of the things they say are genuinely different from American culture and some of them are only different to some Americans. Personally, the rules about not striking up conversations with strangers on the subway, not being too outwardly emotional, or respecting and appreciating nature make perfect sense to me, but I know many Americans that would have a real hard time with them.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
1st Week
So it's been just over a week since I arrived in Skärholmen, a borough of Stockholm (it's pronounced something like "wharholmen", but really enunciating the "wh" and aspirating it to the point of blowing out a candle) and have been doing my best to get settled in as quickly as possible. I picked this apartment because they were the only people to respond to my email to their apartment listing in time and really knew nothing of it before I arrived. Nevertheless, the location seems to be a good spot for me to begin my fieldwork. According to statistics it's 70% immigrant, though I would have guessed 50 or 60% based on my initial observations. The borough is part of what was known as the "Million Program" to build 1 million new homes so that everyone in Sweden could afford decent housing. Not surprisingly, those neighborhoods filled up with immigrants pretty quickly. Skärholmen also has the world's biggest IKEA and a mall called "SKHLM: The Capital of Shopping." I'll have to hang out around there and get the lay of the land.
My roommate at the apartment was born and raised in Sweden, but of Spanish descent. At first, I thought that my plan to exclude Swedish citizens that aren't 3rd generation might be too limiting, but after meeting this fellow I'm quite vindicated. He's been very helpful, outgoing and amenable to conversation, entertaining my many questions and eagerly asking about the US in return. In other words, nothing like a typical Swede, whose reticence is the stuff of legends. I'm going to stick to my original plan of focusing primarily on ethnic Swedes, or as they are sometimes known, "Svenssons". That said, while getting the opinions of ethnic Swedes will be important, I won't discount anybody who might have some good quotable information, if the situation comes up.
I've also found that getting Swedes to speak Swedish to you once they even get a hint that you're an English speaker is an uphill battle. Sometimes this is understandable; some Swedes I personally know rarely speak Swedish to me explicitly because they want to practice their English, especially since it is somewhat rare to find native English speakers here. But the same thing will happen at stores or banks, if you slip up a single word they'll be tempted to go to English. I know that they mean well—they have almost the opposite view of the "This is America! Speak English!" mentality—and English is admittedly the international trade language, but it can sometimes come off as incredibly patronizing. Immigrants, on the other hand tend, to be more willing to go along with my ventures into Swedish and I can sometimes understand them better than Swedes. Maybe it's because it's a little easier for us to understand one another because we speak slower and enunciate more carefully than Swedes. Maybe it's because they understand how difficult it is to learn a language if people constantly switch to another language when speaking to you and they're trying to help me out (that's my personal reason for why I almost never speak Spanish to Mexicans when I'm in Tucson). Maybe they're just more sure of their Swedish than their English. Who knows?
My roommate at the apartment was born and raised in Sweden, but of Spanish descent. At first, I thought that my plan to exclude Swedish citizens that aren't 3rd generation might be too limiting, but after meeting this fellow I'm quite vindicated. He's been very helpful, outgoing and amenable to conversation, entertaining my many questions and eagerly asking about the US in return. In other words, nothing like a typical Swede, whose reticence is the stuff of legends. I'm going to stick to my original plan of focusing primarily on ethnic Swedes, or as they are sometimes known, "Svenssons". That said, while getting the opinions of ethnic Swedes will be important, I won't discount anybody who might have some good quotable information, if the situation comes up.
I've also found that getting Swedes to speak Swedish to you once they even get a hint that you're an English speaker is an uphill battle. Sometimes this is understandable; some Swedes I personally know rarely speak Swedish to me explicitly because they want to practice their English, especially since it is somewhat rare to find native English speakers here. But the same thing will happen at stores or banks, if you slip up a single word they'll be tempted to go to English. I know that they mean well—they have almost the opposite view of the "This is America! Speak English!" mentality—and English is admittedly the international trade language, but it can sometimes come off as incredibly patronizing. Immigrants, on the other hand tend, to be more willing to go along with my ventures into Swedish and I can sometimes understand them better than Swedes. Maybe it's because it's a little easier for us to understand one another because we speak slower and enunciate more carefully than Swedes. Maybe it's because they understand how difficult it is to learn a language if people constantly switch to another language when speaking to you and they're trying to help me out (that's my personal reason for why I almost never speak Spanish to Mexicans when I'm in Tucson). Maybe they're just more sure of their Swedish than their English. Who knows?
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Pre-Flight
In less than 10 hours I will be on my way to Sweden yet again. I probably should be trying to sleep, and I am a little tired, but I promised myself I'd write a blog entry before I left. There's a lot of stuff I should have done before now as far as contacting people, but obviously none of it is of extreme urgency. In fact, once I got my passport back from Migrationsverket, booked a flight to Sweden and made living arrangements in Stockholm, everything just became so unstressful. I did everything I *needed* to do and now the only things left are little things I ought to have done sooner. Oh well.
I'm surprised by how not nervous I am. I suppose it might have to do with the fact that I travel so frequently that the process of packing my bags becomes routine enough that I don't worry about it now. Of course, it might also be the fact that I rarely stress out until incredibly late in the game, at which point I'm too busy to be stressed. I'm not even all that hyped up about it. I mean, I am very happy and very proud of myself for all that I've done to get myself this far and I'm eagerly anticipating getting some answers to my important questions once I'm there. But when one thinks about how one should feel when the dream they've been working toward for a year is about to come true, my own internal state of mind is very calm. Is that being in "the zone"? Even the thought that given the relative scarcity of information on my topic I may very well be one of the names people cite on Swedish immigration doesn't give me quite the giddy thrill I feel it ought to. I will say though I am very much looking forward to saying for the first time in my life "Business" when asked if my reason for entering Sweden is business or pleasure (though I will definitely be aiming for both as long as I'm there).
I'll do my best to keep you folks up to date on the goings-on in Stockholm, but the real juicy ethnographic findings will be posted on a secret online journal that only my EFS class can see. It would be a breach of professional ethics to let anyone else in on the particulars, I'm afraid, so you'll have to make due with the tourist/student's account of things.
God natt, and see you on the other side!
I'm surprised by how not nervous I am. I suppose it might have to do with the fact that I travel so frequently that the process of packing my bags becomes routine enough that I don't worry about it now. Of course, it might also be the fact that I rarely stress out until incredibly late in the game, at which point I'm too busy to be stressed. I'm not even all that hyped up about it. I mean, I am very happy and very proud of myself for all that I've done to get myself this far and I'm eagerly anticipating getting some answers to my important questions once I'm there. But when one thinks about how one should feel when the dream they've been working toward for a year is about to come true, my own internal state of mind is very calm. Is that being in "the zone"? Even the thought that given the relative scarcity of information on my topic I may very well be one of the names people cite on Swedish immigration doesn't give me quite the giddy thrill I feel it ought to. I will say though I am very much looking forward to saying for the first time in my life "Business" when asked if my reason for entering Sweden is business or pleasure (though I will definitely be aiming for both as long as I'm there).
I'll do my best to keep you folks up to date on the goings-on in Stockholm, but the real juicy ethnographic findings will be posted on a secret online journal that only my EFS class can see. It would be a breach of professional ethics to let anyone else in on the particulars, I'm afraid, so you'll have to make due with the tourist/student's account of things.
God natt, and see you on the other side!
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Goethe
Back in the spring of '08, one of my classes, "Love, Madness and Decay in Vienna", introduced me to some concepts in German literature. The professor touched briefly on Goethe's Faust (since he's German and not Austrian) but the one part he did mention really stuck with me. He quoted the moral of the story at the very end: "He who strives on and lives to strive Can earn redemption still." This is what makes Goethe's version of the story different from the classical legend. Rather than being damned for making a deal with the devil, it is his unending quest for betterment that makes him worthy of salvation. (sorry if that's a spoiler to anyone, but I figure if the story is over 100 years old you're not reading it for the suspense)
With the free time I have over the break I decided to read the book. A quick rundown of the story is that Mephistopheles, the devil, makes a gentleman's bet with the angels that he can corrupt any soul. He runs through a list of possible candidates and passes over a nun in a convent reasoning that a soul that has been "starved" is too easy to turn. He decides upon Faust because he is one of the best servants of the Lord. Faust is an old scientist, a renaissance man with degrees in pretty much every discipline from chemistry to law to theology. He's poured his heart and soul into these pursuits, neglecting his personal life, in the search for The Answer—something that will give him true, unfleeting happiness. The answer is nowhere to be found in worldly knowledge so he turns to the occult. Mephistopheles appears and the two make a deal that he will serve Faust and help him explore all the experiences the world has to offer on the condition that when Faust does find that true, pure happiness, Mephistopheles will collect Faust's soul. Faust believes there is no such thing as pure, unending happiness and agrees. The book is kind of flowery and long winded, but the main thing in the first half is he falls for and seduces a young maiden (after the devil restored his youth) and through this whirlwind relationship her life is destroyed, partly because of Faust's lack of concern for the bigger picture and partly because Mephistopheles screwed them both over. He then spends all of the second half of the story traveling through myth and history, meeting Helen of Troy, nymphs and other such characters. After all those adventures Faust ends up finally experiencing the happiness he had always been searching for and right as Mephistopheles comes to claim his soul the angels intervene and carry Faust up to heaven.
Now, why do I like this story? Because it defies the old saying "the road to Hell is paved with good intentions". The moral is: no matter how badly you screw up, if you try, if you strive and seek to learn and better yourself then you are not a bad person. So a person who makes a catastrophically big mistake but learns from it and never repeats it is a better person than someone who makes a much smaller mistake again and again and can't be bothered to try to improve themselves.
A girl in my dorm freshman year told me her favorite philosopher was Goethe (though she pronounced it Go-ith) because he believed in having many experiences and learning from them. That was her rationalization for having random sex with guys and when my roommate asked what she had learned from that experience she replied, "He had a big dick." That's not exactly what Goethe had in mind. There's a difference between saying that striving to know all that one can about the world and about oneself through experiencing all that life has to offer and acting on that knowledge to improve oneself makes one a good person and saying someone who likes to try things is a good person.
Mephistopheles is in the details, so to speak. If you're in a relationship that ends up really screwing over your significant other, the mark of the good person is if they give a damn, if they try to make it better or at least try to learn something because they are concerned about it not happening again. If you have lots of sex and do drugs because you want to get out of your own head, that's different from someone who really does enjoy it, who wants to test themselves against what the world has to offer, someone who want to be in their own head. I'm speaking largely from an academic perspective here, but I think some of the more worldly readers would be inclined to agree.
Also, it's come to my attention that there are more than 5 people who read my blog and actually know who I am. For those of you who follow the link from facebook, if you have something you'd like to say, please don't be shy!
With the free time I have over the break I decided to read the book. A quick rundown of the story is that Mephistopheles, the devil, makes a gentleman's bet with the angels that he can corrupt any soul. He runs through a list of possible candidates and passes over a nun in a convent reasoning that a soul that has been "starved" is too easy to turn. He decides upon Faust because he is one of the best servants of the Lord. Faust is an old scientist, a renaissance man with degrees in pretty much every discipline from chemistry to law to theology. He's poured his heart and soul into these pursuits, neglecting his personal life, in the search for The Answer—something that will give him true, unfleeting happiness. The answer is nowhere to be found in worldly knowledge so he turns to the occult. Mephistopheles appears and the two make a deal that he will serve Faust and help him explore all the experiences the world has to offer on the condition that when Faust does find that true, pure happiness, Mephistopheles will collect Faust's soul. Faust believes there is no such thing as pure, unending happiness and agrees. The book is kind of flowery and long winded, but the main thing in the first half is he falls for and seduces a young maiden (after the devil restored his youth) and through this whirlwind relationship her life is destroyed, partly because of Faust's lack of concern for the bigger picture and partly because Mephistopheles screwed them both over. He then spends all of the second half of the story traveling through myth and history, meeting Helen of Troy, nymphs and other such characters. After all those adventures Faust ends up finally experiencing the happiness he had always been searching for and right as Mephistopheles comes to claim his soul the angels intervene and carry Faust up to heaven.
Now, why do I like this story? Because it defies the old saying "the road to Hell is paved with good intentions". The moral is: no matter how badly you screw up, if you try, if you strive and seek to learn and better yourself then you are not a bad person. So a person who makes a catastrophically big mistake but learns from it and never repeats it is a better person than someone who makes a much smaller mistake again and again and can't be bothered to try to improve themselves.
A girl in my dorm freshman year told me her favorite philosopher was Goethe (though she pronounced it Go-ith) because he believed in having many experiences and learning from them. That was her rationalization for having random sex with guys and when my roommate asked what she had learned from that experience she replied, "He had a big dick." That's not exactly what Goethe had in mind. There's a difference between saying that striving to know all that one can about the world and about oneself through experiencing all that life has to offer and acting on that knowledge to improve oneself makes one a good person and saying someone who likes to try things is a good person.
Mephistopheles is in the details, so to speak. If you're in a relationship that ends up really screwing over your significant other, the mark of the good person is if they give a damn, if they try to make it better or at least try to learn something because they are concerned about it not happening again. If you have lots of sex and do drugs because you want to get out of your own head, that's different from someone who really does enjoy it, who wants to test themselves against what the world has to offer, someone who want to be in their own head. I'm speaking largely from an academic perspective here, but I think some of the more worldly readers would be inclined to agree.
Also, it's come to my attention that there are more than 5 people who read my blog and actually know who I am. For those of you who follow the link from facebook, if you have something you'd like to say, please don't be shy!
Sunday, December 28, 2008
2008
This has been a very good year for me. I might go so far as to say it's been the best year ever. That honor previously belonged to 2006 (the first half of it anyway) when I was in Sweden; the rest of 2006 wasn't as spectacular. This year, however, has been consistently good for me. Let's review, shall we? (in a hopefully not too self-indulgent way) January began the last semester at the U of A, I became the Anthropology Club Treasurer and I became a member of the Golden Key Honor Society. I applied for grad school at UMass (the university I wanted the most) and got accepted in February, they were the first to respond so the rejection letters from the other universities didn't sting at all (I also later found out I was among twelve out of 110 or so applicants to get accepted). In March I go to Sweden for Spring Break and see my old friends in Uppsala again. In May I became a member of Phi Beta Kappa Honor Society, finished my Honor's Thesis and completed an honor's contract course thus enabling me to graduate with Honors from the U of A (as well as Magna Cum Laude). My dear friend Stephanie flew in for my graduation and a marvelous time was had by all. I got a summer job doing the least demanding and highest paying job I've ever had and caught up on my reading list in the process. I took dance lessons for a couple months and learned how to waltz, tango, foxtrot, salsa, cha-cha, rumba and East Coast swing. I celebrate the 4th of July in Vegas with my friends.
In September I move out to Amherst and have an absolute blast with all the international students. I got into the European Field Studies program, something unusual for first year grad students and something one must be vetted for before they let you in. I discovered the quirkiness of neighboring Northampton and the...educational experiences at Smith College. I started doing parkour (though had to quit after a month and a half due to mangling my wrists while trying to impress my parents) and learned a bunch of new conditioning exercises. Under the exacting tutelage of my adviser I produce a research proposal that is given funding (more than we were initially told) as well as the full $1000 from Sigma Xi.
In about a month and a half, the plan that I have been working towards for a year will begin to unfold. For an entire year, though a combination of my own ability, knowing the right people and just plain good luck, everything that I have set my mind to achieving I have accomplished with greater success than I had ever planned on. I'm forging my destiny, building my life, making it happen. Every selection process, from honors societies to grad school application, course vetting to research funding, every one of these successes has been the result of someone thinking I'm smart enough, clever enough, good enough to take a chance on.Now all I need to do is prove I can get results. That's what 2009 is for.
Yes we can, indeed.
In September I move out to Amherst and have an absolute blast with all the international students. I got into the European Field Studies program, something unusual for first year grad students and something one must be vetted for before they let you in. I discovered the quirkiness of neighboring Northampton and the...educational experiences at Smith College. I started doing parkour (though had to quit after a month and a half due to mangling my wrists while trying to impress my parents) and learned a bunch of new conditioning exercises. Under the exacting tutelage of my adviser I produce a research proposal that is given funding (more than we were initially told) as well as the full $1000 from Sigma Xi.
In about a month and a half, the plan that I have been working towards for a year will begin to unfold. For an entire year, though a combination of my own ability, knowing the right people and just plain good luck, everything that I have set my mind to achieving I have accomplished with greater success than I had ever planned on. I'm forging my destiny, building my life, making it happen. Every selection process, from honors societies to grad school application, course vetting to research funding, every one of these successes has been the result of someone thinking I'm smart enough, clever enough, good enough to take a chance on.Now all I need to do is prove I can get results. That's what 2009 is for.
Yes we can, indeed.
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