Swimming Downstream

I went back to my original dissertation topic - the glass ceiling and leadership development for women.  It's not cooking, but I'm still passionate about it, and my literature review is nearly completed, thanks to the extra time and energy I spent earlier this year on the paper.  I feel relived.  I've met my challenge this year in the PhD program.  But I refuse to let biased, unhelpful classmates and professors set me back.

So I'm not swimming upstream with the salmon any longer.  I'm enjoying cooking again.  I spent half the morning in the kitchen whipping up homemade chicken and dumpling soup for a cold-ridden husband, asian salmon with panko breading, roasted red peppers and udon noodles for me, and 6 pounds of bbq pork shoulder for tomorrow's tailgate.  I love holidays off of work!

Now what to make for dinner ...

So You Wanna Be a PhD ...

So you wanna be a PhD.  Be prepared to be demoralized when you are different from your classmates.  Get used to the idea that your professors think your topic has no relation to your course of study (even when your topic has all the words of your course of study IN it), and be prepared to watch your classmates who have seemingly ridiculous dissertation topics be rewarded.

Tonight was a big dose of "your professor is just not that into you."  I am okay with constructive feedback - I deal with it every damn day at work.  If I trust and respect you, then I am willing to listen.  But I haven't developed that trust, that relationship, with my cohorts or my professors.  And to hear that my topic is irrelevant, or not related to education, I don't get the connection.  I want to learn how adults learn to cook - how to inspire them, how to give them my passion.  Maybe a PhD isn't right for me?  Maybe this isn't my dream?  PhD's maybe are, in general, for those who don't want to work in corporate America?  This is definitely me, although I do love the salary and benefits of corporate America, I disdain the feeling that I'm not making a difference.  How can I be on the outside - looking in - to two distinctly different groups?

Maybe I'm becoming an eccentric recluse.  Who knows.  I'm not digging the PhD scene, because these people are so immersed in academia and are so judgmental against those who are not.  I'd love to add Dr. Cyndi Johnson to my list of monikers, but tonight, I have to ask - effin' why?  Why do I want this?

I want to cook, to nurture, and I'm not really here to convert others, just to inspire them.  And to be demoralized in the process by people I don't respect, it really turns me off.

On the Road ...

On the road to my PhD, I feel like this photo - I'm climbing upward.  Steeply upward.  I have to dig deep right now because I'm not finding inspiration or encouragement from my professors.  I have found them to be unresponsive, unless I nag (and as you may know - I am no longer a nagger), and when I do get feedback, it's not terribly encouraging.

I had a great light-bulb flash moment today while reading a journal article related to my literature review.  What if I watched cooking shows and dissected the instructional methods used by different TV chefs and compared that to people who use television shows to learn to cook new things.  Of course, two of my professors have told me - in a "politically correct" way that it seems irrelevant.  To me, however, cooking is highly relevant.  Americans are fatter and lazier than ever.  (Lest you think I'm preaching - I'm not, I am overweight, and I hate exercise - stay with me).  But we have diseases that other culture simply don't have, from diabetes to cancer and even high incidents of tooth decay (read Michael Pollan if you get a chance, he has studied this at great length).  Teaching people to cook for the benefit of their health is highly relevant - especially in a PhD program with the partial title of "Adult Education & Training."  I'm discouraged.  I felt energized this morning when I narrowed the topic, but then deflated when one of my professors returned to me his feedback on the start of my research (this feedback was 3 weeks late, mind you).  I'm, so far, not impressed with these professors.  I don't expect hand-holding, but I do expect encouragement and constructive feedback.  I think my topic is every bit as relevant as some of my other classmates, some of whom are studying college age kids, but not in relation to education and training.

All of the dissertation books tell you to find a topic you are genuinely passionate about, because you're spending 3-5 years with it.  This is it for me.  This is what I want to study.  I want to affect change, even at a small-scale level.  That is why I'm getting this PhD.  I just have to do my work and find strength and motivation in what I'm doing, rather than relying on professors, who are being paid to guide me, but are clearly finding it exhausting.  Wouldn't it be great if teachers at all levels loved to teach?  I'm finding very few people who have that sentiment lately.  Cynical ... yep, you will encounter that on a PhD journey.

There's No Place Like Home

Dorothy was right!  Not only is there no place like home, but what you seek is often right in your own backyard.

I cooked tonight, a whole meal - well, two meals, actually, but for the first time in two weeks.  I was in my element.  I went to the grocery store, which is my own form of zen meditation (as much as I hate to shop for clothes and home goods, I love to shop for fresh ingredients!).  Quick check on my sick husband, with the promise of homemade chicken and dumpling soup, then into the kitchen to start dinner.  A friend from out of town was able to stop by and share a meal with me.  Great conversation, great wine, and all while I was cooking, this is my fabulous life (outside of work, that is).  I made chicken kiev - don't tell me that's so 1981, because fun, delicious food, much like Louis Vuitton handbags, never go out of style - with my fresh rosemary in the middle, it scented the entire chicken breast, mashed potatoes, gravy, and glazed carrots, my favorite comfort foods.  I also slipped in a mixed green salad with crisp Granny Smith apples and walnuts, with my own dijon, Paso Robles Olive Oil, and balsamic vinaigrette. I opened up a new bottle of Paso Robles wine - an interesting blend of Cab Sav, Cab Franc, Petite Verdot, and Syrah - truly delicious wine.  More great conversation and laughter - this is what I love about girlfriends.

There is an easiness between girlfriends that you can't explain to men.  And I'm certain they have the similar rapport, but tonight was perfect, just fun, good times.  Why can't life always be like a dinner party?  Work was terrible.  It always is lately.  I have to divorce myself of the concept that I am a corporate drone.  I just don't care anymore.  I will do my job to the best of my ability, but I am not taking on additional assignments anymore.  Why should I?  What reward did I get from working 60 hour weeks this summer, traveling in coach class (mind you - this is how I travel for pleasure - it just feels so much worse when you are not with your husband and on vacation), eating alone, living off the kindness of your friends merely through Facebook?  I got nothing.  My superiors would argue I got a one-of-a-kind experience, but I say, in the words of John Pinette, "nay-nay."  I learned how to say no - and no I will say.  I have school, I have my food and wine and writing passions, and the day will come when I can say good-bye to corporate life and live my days in blissful wonder.  And all the while - there's no place like home.

Monday's Musings

I've solidified my goals, I've mapped out the next three years, and I don't find it hard to get out of bed to do some PhD work or check out my friends' musings on Facebook.  I am, however, finding it difficult to get myself to work.  I know I should feel blessed beyond belief to have the job I do, and I am grateful.  But I have always believed that your life's work should be fun and meaningful, and lately, my work is diametrically opposed to that sentiment.  And I know I can change that.

In this quiet pre-dawn hour, Padma is teaching me Indian cookery while I surf the internet for inspiration.  I'm making dinner for a friend tonight, and all I want to do today is menu-plan and grocery-shop.  But alas, my job still calls, demanding, impatient, cranky petulant child that it is.  My life vision this morning involved sleeping in, eh, maybe another hour, then a slow, leisurely cup of tea while reading my e-mails (sent to me by my fans).  In my home office, I'm surrounded by newspaper articles proclaiming my writing as visionary, thought-changing, and intriguing.  I spend the day writing about food, thinking about food, and cooking delicious food.  But now I go to work, in an office full of furniture handed-down through generations of bored, tired HR people, to help grown men do things they should have learned to do years ago, and continue the drudgery on the way to my yellow brick road.

The Courage to Dream

My love affair with the East coast, short-lived, is now over.  I can admit when I'm wrong.  Of course, Buffalo, New York is not the most glamourous of places to spend any amount of time, but this summer's exhausting work travel to Buffalo, the nerve-wracking Philadelphia "experiment," and amazing travel in the West has cured me of wanting to live in the over-populated, stressed-out, rat-race of the East.

Telluride, Colorado was the venue for this weekend's travel.  After contracting (on a compromised immune system, no doubt) stomach ailments one week, a nasty cold the following, and not being home for most of this time, I was blissfully happy to see my charming husband at the airport in Grand Junction, Colorado.  We slipped back into the familiar pace of our comfortable marriage, had pizza for lunch, and enjoyed the beautiful 2 1/2 hour drive up through the mountains.  Each mile grew more beautiful and culminated with breathtaking mountain views and changing aspen trees as we drove into the small-town resort.  A wedding took place, but most importantly, fun times with friends - both old and new - made the weekend perfect.

The sky was so clear-blue that I know the fog that clouded my judgement of places-to-live most of the year 2010 had finally lifted.  I felt free and at ease, and allowed myself to dream of the day I walk away from a corporate soul-selling job and into a career of my heart's desire.  The weekend was full of time for just the two of us, and time with our friends.  We sought out the perfect pizza place and perched at the bar for the Wyoming Cowboys game - their loss being the only sore spot of the weekend.  We rode the gondola, which provided stunningly gorgeous views of the town in a quiet, peaceful setting.  We ate great food, we drank great wine.  We lived, we laughed, we loved.  I have the courage to dream of all the great things that lie ahead for us.  As Anais Nin has said, "Life shrinks and expands in proportion to one's courage."  I made my bucket list last week, formalized the goals to get there, and am going to take the risks, be courageous, and live the dream.

That's What Dreams Are Made Of ...

I hope Van Halen will allow me to title this post with one of their lyrics.  (Straight up we'll climb ... leave it all behind ... ).  I got ill two nights ago, stomach ill, one of the worst for me.  I thought maybe I'd gotten food poisoning from a fast food restaurant on the way home from yet another trip.  Now, two days later, I believe it's stress.  The amazingly intense stress of working, traveling, and going to graduate school full-time.  I'm buckling.  I haven't spent enough time on school, enough time at home, enough time with my friends and family.  This is when it gets hard.  This is when people make life-changing decisions.  This is when I have to make some life-changing decisions.

I don't love working in HR.  I drag myself out of bed in the morning to do it because I make a great living at it.  But the truth is, I have found what my dreams are made of.  My dreams are in the kitchen.  Cooking.  Tasting.  Teaching others the joys of cooking and tasting.  Writing.  Talking about food.  Planning menus and parties.  Living in my own world with my own rules.  The question becomes:  How will I get there?  I fear I have become so lazy and complacent, but the time is now.  I must make steps, no matter how small, to get my to my goals.  If I wake up in 5 years and am still in the same place - physically or emotionally - I will have failed.

I read and watch Ina Garten, who is a role model to me.  Stuck working in a government job - a very good job - but going home at night to her one true passion.  Her husband encouraged her to leave it all behind, to climb higher and higher, and she is a success.  She loves what she does, she's good at it, and I suspect she's fabulously wealthy.  While my path won't be the same, I hope that my end goal is similar - to love what I do unequivocally and whole-heartedly.  To jump out of bed in the morning, put on my apron, or sit down at my laptop to write important things.  This is what my dreams are made of.