The vomit paper endeth?

Well, I re-submitted the vomit paper. I've been obsessively checking recent publications to see if Fuctardio scooped me - but nothing has come up yet. So it looks like I just might have beat that group of assholes. I am not sure, of course, but I'm trying to stay optimistic. For once.

Submitting a paper is shitty. I really don't understand why it should take so long to do, and why there are always problems uploading documents. Wrong format. Session timed out. Randomly omitting a figure file. It's fucking horrible! For some reason, I couldn't upload my shit at work - so I had to go home to submit my paper. This is the kind of shit that makes people crazy. My PI said that it was actually easier to submit when you had to physically mail in the draft and figures. Man, I love irony.

So here I am, finally at peace for the first time since about January. It's been a crazy year. I mean, I'm not really done yet - I have to give a lecture in a few weeks that I have not started preparing yet. But hey, at least it's better than writing a paper, addressing and writing a paper revision, written comps and oral comp exams.

I got the feeling earlier this year that the stress will never end. There will always be something that I have to do, things I have to put off until the last minute, and things that will keep me up at night. It's for real now, man. There's no stopping it. I am a scientist.

Fuck me. I thought I was doing this to avoid a real job for the rest of my life. It reminds me of a little poem I wrote a few years back:

As it turns out, I was mistaken.
The unifying theory to all I've said and done is this:
I am learned, but I will never learn.

Vomit Paper: Endless Shittiness

So The Vomit Paper was not rejected. Holy fucking shitballs. I sincerely thought that the motherfucker (and his minions) who made me look like an asshole during a plenary session at our field's major conference would have shredded it. I mean, the dude stood up on the stage and - before he started his talk - specifically stated that my results were not possible. Who does that shit? A motherfucker.

Alas, the reviewers had just a few simple revisions. Awesome.

The problem is that I have to do more experiments. These experiments are not working. Fuck Murphy and his fucking law. Fuck my damn cells for not behaving. Fuck Invitrogen for backordering essential materials to finish my shit. Fuck the lack of good antibodies. Fuck. FUCK!

I am taking a few days off for vacation. No matter when they are scheduled, or how short they are, vacations always fuck up everything. Like now, for instance, as I hover around in revision limbo.

My plan is to drown out the guilt and pressure with beer and Mexican food. My life would be so much easier if there were decent Mexican food around here.

Some good news

I have successfully passed written comps. This is fan-fucking-tastic, because I was pretty sure one of the professors was going to fail me on one section. So, yay! That is the last exam I will ever have to take, which is awesomeness to the power of Avogadro's number.

Even better is the fact that they are giving me 4-6 weeks from today to write my proposal, rather than 4 weeks from the date of the exam - which is what I thought. So I got a ton of stuff done, very early. Now I can take a few days off to relax and celebrate! Woohoo!

Also, I submitted the vomit paper. Finally. I know it's supposed to be bad luck or something to disseminate the actual submission to the zero people that read this, but it has to be said. It took almost a year longer than originally anticipated, but it's fucking gone. For now.

I'm probably getting rejected, but I don't care anymore. I hate the vomit paper. It must die.

The Desk Months

Well, the qualifying exam is over. I think. And by that, I mean I am not too sure how I did on one section. I was essentially told to study a recipe for making bread, and all related bread-making technique and theory, then asked to come up with a cake recipe for the exam. The questions on this particular section had nothing to do with the papers I was given.

Fun.

Anyway, it's been nearly two weeks now and I still don't have my results. I was the only one taking the exam. So, yeah. These professors have never been very good at getting exams back in a timely manner, so I'm not sure why I'm so surprised. But I am! Because I am incredibly naïve!

So now I have two weeks left to do my proposal, which is a load of fun right after finishing my paper. The past few months have really been a nightmare. Paper, quals, proposal, not much bench work, gum-chewer returning to the lab to sit next to me. It's so much fun. All I want to do are experiments - but I can't. I have to write. Shit.

I can't wait until it's all done. I feel ready to leave, but that means I still have a few more years ahead of me. Of course.

The Neverending Paper

Oh fucking shit on a shingle. This paper is going to haunt me until the end of time. I truly and sincerely hope that they are not all like this. If so, I may very well end up becoming a carpenter or something. Because fuck this.

I am still doing control experiments. Still! No one seems to be satisfied with my explanations, let alone the data itself. I would like to remind people that data don't lie, but I keep forgetting that in their eyes I apparently don't know shit. Or something. Seriously, how many different methods will it take to prove that my new method works? Three isn't enough. And if three isn't enough, I have the sneaking suspicion that not even ten will.

I gotta say, supplemental info on journal articles really chaps my ass. And all of this dumb bullshit that I am currently enduring will just end up in some big stinking barfy pile of supplemental info that only the anal-retentive myopic fucks will read. One of my mentors, a true scientist who still comes in to the lab every day at age 80+, says this: Prove it, but don't over-prove it. This is something that has stuck with me for years, and I will remember it forever. I am all about this phrase. That is science. One well-crafted experiment should be enough. But no, in the age of supplemental info, it will never be enough.

One day, in the near future, I truly hope that this will be remedied. I will probably still be working on my paper then, to be quite honest.

I was always under the impression that grad students typically have a problem with not knowing when to end a project. Well I'm trying to end mine, but my PI and the staff scientist want to keep it going. I am NOT going to take three years to put out a paper. I won't do it. Fuck that shit. I swear I am not going to carry it over through the fall semester. So it is said here, in print, kinda-sorta. But for fuck's sake, the paper must die soon.

Writing a damn paper

Ugh. More complaining!

Ok, not really. This one really isn't that bad. I am just writing my first paper. It is, in theory, fucking awesome. The idea was mine, I designed and performed every damn experiment for the thing, and I am writing it. It's my first first-author paper. Woohoo!

In practice, though, it's semi-horrible. I work much better with a gun to my head. In fact, I've done my best work under atrocious conditions - and I have the gray hair to prove it! For this, though, there is no deadline except for "soon." That is just not working for me.

I can't tell you how many times I have toted my reference papers and photocopies of my results from the lab, to my home, and back to the lab again without even taking them out of the binders. They just look at me over the weekend, taunting me. I keep thinking, "I should be working on my paper." Torturing myself. Over and over. I always end up watching some stupid crap on TV and feeling guilty when I stroll in to the lab, late, as usual, on a Monday morning.

So I've made a deadline for myself. I have ten days to finish the first draft. With hope, this goal will make the transition from arbitrary deadline to a proverbial gun to the head and I will accomplish the task.

The outlook? Not so good. I foresee several all-nighters in the murky future, or endless streaming waves of guilt. Awesome.