Dreaming of Paris...

I've had more bad news to do with my PhD. I was hoping to get data collected between 2000-2006 from one source which could then be linked to data from 2007, thereby giving me the entire data set I originally wanted but at a significantly reduced cost (down from $7683 to $1050). While this is not ideal (it's still a lot of money), its obviously better than the alternative. Sadly, it has been brought to my attention that these two data sources are not currently compatible as they use different codes to identify who is who. When I mentioned this to my friend AL she looked at me with this "well of course they use different codes" expression and said, "Didn't you know that?". I swear she should be my supervisor.

The supervisor with expertise in population level data only realised the incompatibility issue on Tuesday. As a result the first piece of advice I'm going to give any future would-be PhD students is as follows: don't just make sure your supervisors are experts in the general area of your thesis, make sure at least one of them actually has experience with the methodology you're intending to use. And double check it. I was actually approached with my general project already established and therefore assumed that if the institute was wanting to do it, they obviously knew how. Which brings me to my second piece of advice: DO NOT assume anything. Enough said.

So with this continued frustration my mind has been wandering to happier days and more blissful experiences. Walking through the Louvre for days on end, reading the headstones at Père Lachaise, window shopping through endless patisseries, fumbling with a French phrase book, wandering through Monet's beautiful gardens. You've probably guessed by now that I've had an undying urge to jump a plane to Paris where I can do all of these (well, minus Monet's garden of course). However the urges of my heart are being overruled by the sensibleness (is that a word?) of my head and the knowledge that this thesis simply won't write itself. As much as I would like to throw up my arms in defeat, I just can't. I've come this far, I can't turn back now. So in the meantime I'll just have to settle for some wonderful visual inspiration, like these polaroid photographs from danske's photostream. Simply delightful.

In honour of a wonderful woman

Crispy crudites

My maternal family (the only family I really have as my father is an only child) is bi-coastal, with half of the family in Western Australia and the other half in Sydney. When my cousin was married in February the Sydney Crew held a celebration in honour of our Grandmother’s 90th birthday. A few days after the actual event in April, the West Coasters had theirs. We had a family get together with aunts and uncles, cousins, cousins' spouses and kids. It was low key but overflowing with family – just like Grandma wanted it.

Yummy chicken

My father was raised by a single mother in post-war Germany when his biological father, after *ahem* knocking her up, returned to Britain (and his wife). I know, very classy. My Oma (German for Grandma) was tragically killed five years before I was born by a drunk driver. As a result my Grandma is the only Grandmother I’ve ever known and she’s particularly special to me for that reason.

Plenty of bottles

As an evolutionary biologist I have a particular interest in Grandmothers, the assumption being that post-reproductive women often subsidise their daughters and grandchildren. This has certainly been the case for me. I remember being nursed through mumps and chicken pox by my Grandma, being dropped off and picked up from Kindergarten by my Grandma, being taught to make awesome pumpkin scones and fresh lemonade, and spending days, sometimes weeks during school holidays hanging out at my grandparents' old California bungalow in South Perth. I also remember the endless conversations we had when I stayed with her after my Grandfather passed away. I have shared some of the happiest and saddest moments of my life with my Grandma.

The impressive cake

And she’s still a firecracker to this day. My mum and her brothers agree that Grandma was a bit of an authoritarian in her younger days but she’s certainly mellowed with age. Now she’s far less rigid and far more...well...hilarious. Like when she ignores people because she can’t hear them but won’t turn on her hearing aid. Or how she likes to request a wheelchair at the airport because she can clear customs quicker and gets taken to and from the plane (she’s 100% mobile). Or how she’s just blatantly honest about what happens to the human body as its gets older and older. Note to self: don’t eat dried apricots after age 70.

Sparklers with the cake

I look forward to having her confidence. I think that is something that can only come with age and experience. Women my age are so obsessed with body image, and status and having ‘things’. None of which really matters. When I’m on my deathbed am I really going to regret not driving a Porsche or wearing Galliano or living in Dalkieth? I’ll probably be thinking of how lucky I was to be able to teach my grandkids how to make awesome pumpkin scones and fresh lemonade.

The birthday girl

Guess who FINALLY got a copy of Photoshop?

That would be me! Observe...

The Thames

King Street

Point Resolution

Margaret River Cows

Busselton Jetty

Vino

Brighton Beach

University of Western Australia

Matilda Bay

Manchester Cathedral

Perfect sentiment

Came across this via the Perfect Sentiment blog and needless to say it really struck a chord. It's exactly what I needed right now. You can download a printable version here.

Of course

The past month has been somewhat of a blur for me. I’m on suspension from my PhD which sounds like I’ve done something really wrong, but I haven’t. I’ve had more problems with my project to the point that I could no longer watch my scholarship and my time allowance slowly whittle away. I found out in mid-May that the government unit responsible for collating my data hasn’t touched it since the beginning of February because of a miscommunication between me and the person handling my case. Of course they forgot to mention that they had put a hold on my data so my application was just sitting there on someone’s desk being all sad and lonely for 4.5 months. It’s going to take another 3 months to get the data now. Of course.

When I finally got them to start processing my application they came back with the cost estimate I’ve been waiting on for 3 months. There has been a significant change in health dept. policy since I started this nightmare which has seen linked data move to a user-pays system. So while the first lot of data I received in 2006 was free, this lot is not. In fact, this lot has been billed at $7683. To put it in perspective, I have $3000 TOTAL to run my entire study. Over half of that has been spent on statistics programs for my (read: the institute's) computer. Of course.

The strange thing is, my anger and frustration lasted all of 3 minutes. I think I’ve finally resigned myself to the fact that it’s all just par for the course on this journey. Of course someone completely misunderstood me, of course they didn’t bother to tell me there was a hold on my data, of course it’s going to take another 3 months to get it, of course it’s going to cost me an arm and a leg. Of course, of course, of course.

So I decided to suspend. This basically puts my scholarship and my PhD on hold until a time when I’m in a position to resume (i.e. a time when I actually have some data to analyse). It’s also allowed me to do a lot of teaching, which sadly hasn’t been as fulfilling this semester as it usually is. My classes are up and down and I’ve been filling in for others at times, covering classes where I’ve not met the students before. First year students in particular tend to be a little shy around unfamiliar faces. I’ve also been looking for ways to come up with the money for my research. On a positive note I may be able to get the data from elsewhere for a much reduced cost (about $1000), on a negative note the cost estimate for the qualitative study has come in at just under $10,000. Of course.

Today I got an email from the health dept. asking where the confidentiality agreement for one of my supervisors is. I had arranged this late last year and had assumed that it had been signed and forwarded in due time. Apparently not. In the meantime she has taken off for greener pastures and doesn’t actually work for the university anymore. I had been told that it had taken so long for the aforementioned data application to be forwarded to the health dept. because of all the paperwork this person had to sign, and other important people had to co-sign. Now I find out that paperwork never made it to the health dept. anyway. This isn’t the first time that paperwork I’ve organised has been lost somewhere along the chain of command. Clearly there’s a black hole at my university with a propensity to eat paperwork related solely to my PhD. Of course.

So at the moment I’m a little down on my study and on my supervisors. One has disappeared on long service leave until next semester, the other is, sadly, nowhere near as familiar with this type of research as she had led me to believe she was. And the third has now completely moved on. I understand that issues arise and research is highly unpredictable but I can’t help feeling that if this project wasn’t going to be achievable, someone should have said something a lot sooner. This project wasn’t my idea and I have struggled to put my own mark on it. I can’t help but think that if I actually manage to finish this PhD, it’ll be a damn miracle. Of course.