Sunday, October 31, 2010

Chuz out mang

At a time when many of my Esteemed Colleagues are having brain implosions from the tension and stress of having to prove that they are not idiots, I am floating in an ethereal world of bliss and happiness - it's like Nirvana but with cheese on toast and a gin and tonic. 

What is the secret of my success?  Simply this: I have so much on my plate that I can't even see the turd underneath the mashed potato.  So I'm just digging away with my fork saying yum yum yum, due to get a nasty surprise soon but carrying on regardless.

I'm moving house on Tuesday.  Actually, we've already started.  Yesterday my Smaller Half and I spent all day smashing our possessions into small pieces, tipping the debris into boxes, loading the boxes into our cars, driving up to town, unloading the boxes from the cars, tipping the boxes out onto the floor of our new house and gluing the pieces back together again into new and exciting combinations like some kind of domestic version of Voltron - Defender Of The Universe!

I hate moving so much that at the moment it completely dominates my every waking moment.  Intellectually I am aware that I have my Death Star Exams in a few weeks but it is having no emotional impact on me at all.  I'm not boasting about this - I think it's actually quite bad because it means that until the end of this week when we are finally mostly settled in to our new place, I am highly unlikely to actually do anything studywise.  Shrug.

The other thing I have on my plate is my fractious relationship with my supervisor.  After last week, when I emailed him and the university informing them that I was not prepared to have him supervise me any more due to his almost total lack of constructive criticism and fondness for asking "Have you stopped beating your wife"-style loaded questions, things have kind of died a whimpering death.

The university people were all very supportive of me, my supervisor sent me an lengthy email talking about a different issue entirely, and that's about it.  I went back to the clinic during the week and I was like the invisible man.  I saw a few patients, helped out a bit with a collapse and a chest pain, but none of the doctors or admin staff talked to me about what's going on.  My supervisor gave me a strained smile and waved across the waiting room at me.  So right now I don't now if my name is Mudd, if I have a new supervisor, or if the whole thing has been written off as me having a pre-exam mindfart that we should all awkwardly pretend never happened.  Shrug.

In the meantime, I'm going to spend today doing some study.  Eeeeexcept I just realized that all my textbooks are up in town, glued together in the shape of a giant marauding ant robot.  Bugger.


Anonymous said...

Hey PTR,
That really sounds like a crap time you're having. I hope it all pans out okay. You'll no doubt get your groove back soon, but I know from my own experience at least, having a crap time at work with an unhelpful supervisor doesn't do wonders for the outlook.

I wish you the best of luck, and have every confidence in my future university sorting this mess out :)... :S ...:)

Word verification: Bastr

PTR said...

I think it sounds worse than it is, but thanks for your moral support.

Unlike the many people who are struck down by serious illnesses far beyond their own control, this situation is largely of my own making. It does, after all, take two to tango.

Anonymous said...


I reckon you should get Fractious Supervisor (FS) together with Gym Person (GP). I reckon an orange FS might be a happier FS?

While it takes two to tango, it only takes one to be a complete and utter dick.

Do you think that perhaps your Fractious supervisor has misunderstood your War on Innumeracy (WoI)? It could be that he feels you regard him as an Irregular Fractious or worse still a Surd?

Perhaps the FS would be less F and more S (fS) if you explained that the WoI didn't apply to him?