Overheard and out of context...

From an evening out at a bar... with my professors...

"Are...you... ON A TRAIN?!?!"
"Oh, him? We just call him f*ck face..."
"Let's drunk dial criminologists."
"Sherman? Eck? Wiesburd? They're my b!tches."
"This is grad school. You get drunk, then go teach class. Trust me, now one will notice..."
"Happy birthday, @sshole."
"You  want a lemon drop? Don't be a biznatch."
"Dude, some of the bitches here can out drink you."
"I'm not here to be equal to the patriarchy, I'm here to overthrow it... are you going to finish those nachos?"

And this isn't even the best of them... those are... well... better left unsaid.

Maybe my life doesn't suck as much as I thought...

Yeah, yeah, I know...

Bad, grad student, bad! Where have all the posts gone? What happened to September? Where are all the snarky comments? What about my Moments of Joy? Where have you been?

Honestly? I hate September. It's nice in theory, summer fading into autumn, school bells and bright red apples. But in reality? It sucks. It's not summer, it's not fall, you are so not ready to get back into the swing of classes and papers and exams and the month kind of creeps by in limbo. It's not one thing, it's not the other, and now it's over.

Let's move on.

Besides ignoring the month of September I've been studying for the dreaded Qualifier (yes, it's so terrifying it gets capitalized), the exam that will make of break my career. Seriously. If I fail this exam (ok, ok, so if I fail it twice, but still!) I am no longer a doctoral student. I'd need to beg (yes, literally) to get back into the program. I don't think I could bear the shame of failing this test. I keep joking about throwing myself into the nearest river, but I think I might actually do it... then again, the nearest river is filled with industrial waste, so I'd probably jump in and be able to walk upon the crust that's formed over the top... where was I?

Oh yes, big test, not blogging because I am studying, need to pass.

Oh, and it's in 11 days. Not that I'm counting or anything...

Crockpot Beef Stew

Rabbit Rabbit!

My maternal grandfather, Papa, has always been an inspiration to me; my earliest memories of him are in the kitchen, tasting whatever he was cooking. There is no meal in the world more delectable than Papa's broccoli-rabe, beef stew and his own invention, potato pie. My offhanded, handful of  this, handful of that cooking style is a direct result of watching him throw whatever is on hand into a pot and creating something spectacular.

My quest into graduate school is also inspired by him. When I was little I was slightly awed by him and how he can talk about any subject with authority. He tells the most incredible stories about his childhood, time in the Navy, career as a police officer and everything in between. When I was in college and studying the court system he'd lend be books on Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes and landmark Supreme Court decisions. His passion for learning and desire for me to get the best education possible is one of the main reasons I went to grad school.

Consider this improvised beef stew recipe as an ode to Papa and a learning experience!

Crockpot Beef Stew
1 pound of cubed beef stew meat (or more if desired)
4 large potatoes
4 cloves garlic, chopped or pressed
1 tbs paprika (I don't have it on hand and usually substitute with taco seasoning)
2 tbs soy sauce (or Worcestershire)
1 onion, chopped
1 1/2 cups beef broth (or whatever, bullion and water works, too)
1 cup wine (red or white, you pick)
2 carrots, cut into sticks (or chopped in a food processor to save you time)
1/3 cup brown sugar
1 cup homemade tomato sauce (or 4 chopped fresh tomatoes)
Grind to a Salt (have you noticed I love this stuff?)
Freshly ground black pepper
Some flour

Combine broth, wine, soy sauce, tomatoes, brown sugar, paprika, some seasoned salt and pepper in the slow cooker and set to high (4-6 hours cook time) or low (8-10 hours cook time) depending on when you want to eat.

Wash, peel and chop potatoes, carrots, onion and garlic. Throw them into the broth.

Take your stew meat and put it into a zip-lock bag. Sprinkle some flour over it and salt and pepper it a bit. Close the bag and give it a good shake to coat the meat (or, in the words of Weasel, "Shake it like a Polaroid picture!"). Throw this in the fridge for a few minutes while you drag out a frying pan and add just enough olive oil to coat the bottom on the pan and let the flame heat it up on high. Toss in the now coated meat and saute until nice and brown. It doesn't have to be cooked all the way, because  you will now throw it into the slow cooker with all the rest to continue cooked. Make sure the pot is covered, and walk away (cocktails, anyone?).

Enjoy!

Note: The measurements in this recipe are arbitrary. I usually just pour, sprinkle, toss and add according to my whim, what I have in the fridge, and what kind of flavor I am looking for. The beauty of this method? I have a base recipe I can work with, and I also have the freedom to experiment!

Creation and Inspiration

I am back from a incredible week in Disney World (posts to follow!) and I am now inspired to get active and make something. I am trying to keep criminology off the brain and unwind with other, more relaxing, pursuits. Namely, I have recently begun creating and "upcycling" (recycling, updating and improving existing pieces) jewelry pieces.

In addition to making a necklace and a locket for myself, I have just ordered beading supplies and metal findings to start creating original hat pins! This first line of products will be marketed on Esty at the Daughter Of the Roses shop and will be called "Itsy Bitsy Spyder," as it is my first and "elementary" attempt at creating art for sale!

Featured above is the logo that Super Boy created for me. I drew a sketch on a crumpled Post-It, and he turned it into art. Thank, hun!

Updates to follow as the supplies arrive and, of course, obligatory sales pitches...

Serving the State: the perils of jury duty

I often joke about how I am not ready to be a grown up and I'd much rather hide under my bed all day. I am without a doubt 5 years-old at heart, and I'd like nothing more the spend the first few days of summer vacation in my pajamas eating ice pops and watching Disney movies. Unfortunately, in the eyes of the state at least, I am  most definitely a grown up and therefore I am required to serve the state in the most irritating and mind numbingly boring ways possible.

I am now eligible to sit as a juror.

In an incredible stroke of irony, I was called to serve on a jury today, just days after I finished my last exam.The little form came in the mail, and, under penalty of being held in contempt of court, I went to the county courthouse this morning and settled in for a long, boring day. Summer break would just have to be put on hold. Armed with snacks and a few novels, I watched the criminal justice system unfold in front of me, and boy is it ugly.

To add insult to injury it's a beautiful, cool spring day out after nearly a week of unseasonably low temperatures and constant drizzle.  But there I was, doing my civic duty by sitting in this converted block of jail cells turned conference room with a very varied slice of humanity slouching in office chairs. Even worse was the educational film "We the Jury: the basics of court proceedings" that we were forced to watch.

Believe it or not, I'm pretty sure I covered how a jury works at some point during my 5 years of study in criminal justice and criminology.

Of course I know that a jury is an important part of the court process and that the system could not function without citizens serving on juries in both criminal and civil cases. I am, however, not sure I'm the best person for the job. After so much exposure to the criminal justice system through classes, studies and internships I am in now way impartial and unbiased. I've written papers on the ineffectiveness of courts. I've interned with the state police. I've blatantly said that, 9 times out of 10, I'll probably take the side of the state in any criminal proceeding (and I really feel, at least sometimes, that defendants are probably guilty of something if they are there in the first place). I'm getting my doctorate in criminal justice for crying out loud!

I know too much about the field. I am a prosecutor's dream and a defense attorney's worst nightmare.  I'd make a terrible juror.

Lucky for me (and those involved in any of the three cases I could have been selected for), the judges presiding today were not ready to pool a jury, so I was freed from the possibility of sitting through voir dire (jury selection procession) and will not have to serve on an actual jury and sit through a trial. I was released with the thanks of the state, and I practically sprinted out of there.

After all, doesn't it make you feel all warm and fuzzy knowing that your time is worth $5 and a free cup of coffee?

What I've learned in grad school... so far

Summer has officially begun! Break out the margaritas, stuff the criminology books under the bed and let's head to the beach!

In all seriousness, it's been a long year, but I can honestly say that I have finished my first year of grad school and I did it well. I have, of course, learned a great deal about criminological theory, policing and statistics. But the greatest lessons I have learned have very little to do with academic.

So without further ado, the top three things I've learned in grad school:

3. When in doubt be vague. Didn't read that article? Didn't understand that last stats problem? Have no idea what your professor is asking you? Be vague. Start with "Well, there are several theories regarding that..." and end with "... but of course, there are different ways to see this." And if all else fails, smile blandly and say that you were wondering about that too, and what did the professor think about that? It just wasn't clear...

2. You can stand a lot more than you realize. From filthy roommates to 10 page papers weekly, you can get through a lot more dysfunction that you think. It takes planning, it takes patience, and it takes a whole lot of reminding yourself that everything works out in the end. This mantra, "everything will be okay," has kept me sane. And in the end, you actually get a lot more work done when you keep your eye on the big picture.

1. By far the most important thing I've learned in grad school... when it's done it's done. Like reminding yourself that everything works out in the end, letting go of perfection and instead focusing on getting things just done and done well enough is freeing. It's not about doing a job half way or not caring about assignments. Instead, it encourages getting things done, and done well, without going overboard and driving yourself nuts. And sometimes it's better to just finish a project than slave over it and worry.

It's been a long, stressful, busy year and I've busted my butt to get everything in order. But the greatest lesson of all is to trust in yourself, and trust in the higher powers in the world to get you through.

Moment of Joy

So I am in the middle of my finals, and in less than a week I will have completed my first year as criminal justice doctoral student. If I ever needed a pick me up, it's now... so in honor of the last statistic exam I will ever (hopefully) have to take, I give you a silly video.

Enjoy!

What is Criminological Theory and Why Does it Matter?

So the semester has started up again, and so has all the nonsense. Toad is being Toad, bragging about a "grant" that isn't all that much to brag about, because I doubt the existence any such thing. And, of course, professors are being professors, adding "last minute" books that we need for yesterday ( and are hundreds of dollars to boot) and handing out syllabi that make no sense (there are only 14 weeks in a semester). So the typically stress has started up again, and the petty annoyances are just that: petty and annoying. In the end, I'll laugh, I'll cry, I'll freak out and I'll work my butt off. And I'll be fine after all.

Obviously, grad school is very different from college, and a PhD program is going to be different from a master's program. But in the end, the subject matter is the same: criminal justice is the study of crime and practitioners in the field, and criminology is the study of the causes of crime. This is an oversimplification; the real definition is amorphous and intricate and there is no one right answer, making it a bit difficult to explain to the layman (or just wrap your head around in general). I have this problem with my family and friends quite often, particularly my grandmother. She is thrilled to have a grandduaghter working towards a PhD, thrilled beyond belief. But she has no real understanding of the material, just a general sense of what I might be working on at any given time. And that is perfectly normal.

So why does theory matter? If it's so hard to pin point and there are so many conflicting views, then why bother? Well, in order to try and change crime, you need to know what causes it. For instance, let's say there is a burning building. You could just throw water on it and be done. But that might be a temporary fix; what caused the building to light on fire in the first place? What is the root cause? By identifying the cause of the fire, you know whether you have to shut of the gas lines, find an arsonist, or take that pack of matches from the toddler. You see? In order to fix a problem, you need to identify what's causing the problem.

If you think crime is caused by biological factors, then identifying a "crime gene" or medicating offenders will fix crime. If you think it is a matter of social inequalities an upheaval, then social programs and community involvement will stop crime. And if you think that crime is a function of the ruling class's oppression of the under class, then the redistribution of wealth and power within society is the answer. These are by no means the only theories out there, but I think it illustrates the point. If you want to change something, you need to know what needs to be fixed first.

If you are looking for books on criminological theory, I have two to recommend. The first is Cullen and Agnew's Criminological Theory: past to present. Unlike other tests that just summaries theories, this work offers the original articles that have become landmarks in the study of criminology. There is also a very handy grid in the first few The second is my personal favorite, Lilly, Cullen and Ball's Criminological Theory: Context and Consequence. Again, unlike other textbooks this work offers not just the theories, but the social, economic, political and cultural climate and changes that prompted new theories to develop. There are also discussions on whether these theories worked, and the long lasting effects of programs implemented on these recommendations. I personally felt that the chronological structure of this book, complete with the historical subtexts, gave me a greater understanding of where the theories came from and what they were a reaction to.

Theory may not be my favorite facet of my studies, but it's an important one. In order to understand where you are going, yo need to know what came before you. Happy theorizing!

Best "Frenemies"... the Story of Toad

I think It's about time I introduced you to Toad. Looking back at my first semester a grad student, I have to say that all of the students in the criminal justice department are really unpretentious and down to earth. Everyone seems ready to talk to you, offer bits of advice, give you encouragement and repeat the mantra I've come to internalize: "You'll worry and you'll work hard, but in the end it's really not that bad."

Everyone is, if a bit reserved and private at first, really quite friendly. That it, everyone but Toad. Imagine, if you will, that stereotypical student of the White Tower, all theory and name dropping and high and mighty opinions. That's Toad, very full of himself and very quick to toot his own horn. He is best described, I suppose as a "frenemy," someone who you are polite and friendly to but secretly hate their guts. He is never outright rude or condescending to anyone, but everything about his manner, and every word that comes out of his mouth, says otherwise.For instance, he recently got a 97/100 on a presentation (during which he stopped every three seconds to refer to some professor's assistance or flatter himself with false modesty) . He turns to me and says, "Oh, well, you know. Not too bad. I don't think there'll be any grades higher. No such thing as perfection." He says all of this, of course, just as I am about to get up an present. So, no pressure or anything.

I like to think I handled this very well. I nodded and made some kind of noncommittal noise in response. I then got up, gave me presentation (which I practiced with Super boy easily 10 times) and, lo and behold!, I am handed my rubric with a large 100/100 written on it with several glowing comments. Being the bigger person, I put the paper in my purse and didn't say anything about it to anyone, but in my head I was whooping with joy.

This is just one example of his behavior. Apparently, I am not the only one to notice or be annoyed by this constant barage of offhanded compliments/insults. Others have approached me with similar gripes; in fact, one of these conversations lead to Toad's epithet. A few fellow disgruntled grad students, all fed up with his references to "Dr. So-and So" and "special projects" and "independent research," tried to analyze the root of this behavior. One student put it brilliantly, referring to a species of toad in his native country; this toad, rather puny and insignificant, will puff itself up and hiss when it feel threatened by another frog and predator.  Following this line of thought, Toad then resorts to rattling off achievements and acquaintances and projects on order to make himself feel bigger than he really is and superior to the rest of us. This is very likely the truth of the matter; while no one else is so vulgar as to list our distinctions, Toad is in a cohort of scholars that have Phi Kappa Phi memberships, Phi Beta Kappa distinctions, teaching assistantships, scholarships and advanced degrees.  Maybe he is inflating his ego to keep up.

I, however, have some worries. Despite knowing the likely reasons for his behavior (insecurity) I still wonder if he is in fact better than me. Do the professors really buy his brown-nosing? Do they see through his flattery, or are they taken in by it? Is he ahead of the game by befriending so many professors and committing himself to so many projects, or is he spreading himself thin to no avail? Will his plan to schmooze every he can really get him ahead?

I don't know. I'd like to think I can compete with him. I have awards. And memberships. And, out of the entire cohort, the department practically begged me to join this program. I was the chosen one. I was the first in their eyes. And yet... I never tell anyone this.  I don't make this sort of information public to my peers. The rest of us are honest in our fears, share our concerns, open in our weaknesses. But Toad never shows weakness. He makes himself bigger than the rest of us and, while I know it's a ruse, I'm still intimidated.

I just wish I knew why, and how I could make it stop.

It can only get better from here...

So the year is off to a really rough start. There have been tensions between family members already, and we have already faced very sad events. For my part, I feel like hiding under my bed most days and pretending the world doesn't exist. The rest of the time I am pretty useless, dazedly walking around the apartment at a loss of what to do.

Much of my black mood springs from fear. Fear for the health and safety of my family. Fear for my own ability to cope with reality. Fear of future. And, probably most pressing at this particular moment, the fear or returning to grad school and criminology. I am not ready to return to the sniping and self-praise of some of my classmates, nor do I feel able to compete with the rest and succeed in my classes. The thought of returning there fills me with dread, and no amount of traveling back and forth between school and my home will make it any better. 

To make matters worse the holidays are over, which at once astounds me and depressed me. I love the Christmas season; it's my favorite time of year, and for it to be ending makes the rest of the years stretch out before as one desolate and bleak expanse.

My rock through all of this has been, of course, Super Boy. He is currently slogging through his first day back at school, and his absence is palpable. This entire break he has been at my side, encouraging me, comforting me, caring for me. I cannot function without him. He has been my strength for a long time; when he asked me to marry him, he began by acknowledging that there would be tough times in our future, be they grad school or other obstacles. But not matter what we'd face, we'd face it together and be there for each other through the good, bad or indifferent. He promised me his strength and his support, his care and his constancy. And that, I think, is the foundation of love.

I am very blessed to have him in my life. As for the rest, I have to have faith and hope in brighter things to come.

The Prodigal Grad Student Returns

Finally! I am done for the semester! Yes, I know I have been very lax in updating, but never fear, you will get all kinds of insights and gossip on the world of the PhD student over the next few weeks. It's been a ride, and this is just the first pause I get before I plunge right back into it, a cycle that will repeat over and over again for at least 5 years.

But right now, I want to direct your attention to the bottom of this blog. See that "Let's Say Thanks" widget? It's a great program brought to you by the people of Xerox. The company has collected some great artwork from kids all across the country and they are turning them into postcards for the troops. They have a website outlining their project and a facebook group you can join, too. All you need to do is follow that widget to their homepage, where you too can send your own greetings and thanks to those who serve. Trust me; this is a great holiday treat for those who can't be home to celebrate with family and friends. So take a minute (even less, take 10 seconds) to send one to a stranger who cares for you and your freedom.

Isn't it time you care back? Send a "Let's Say Thanks" card.

Gone to the Dogs

So here is a hot topic in New Jersey's law enforcement community. Atlantic City, the (in)famous tourist destination, is known as much for its casinos and boardwalks as its reputation for drugs, prostitutes and murder. While great strides have been taken in the past decade (you don't find nearly as many used needles in the streets as you used to), it is still a city with a crime problem. Now, this is not to say that everyone who lives there is a criminal; far from it, in fact. And it is just as unfair to say that crime runs rampant and unchecked; the police force is efficient and organized, and the State Police even have special interests in the area adding further protection.

Researchers have any number of different criminological theories discussing what creates crime and criminals, and Atlantic City is as good a place as any to see them in action. The constant fluctuation of the population creates tension and unrest. Think of the double-decker trains now running from New York City to the casinos. An entirely new (and perhaps even unsavory) group of people are now being introduced to the area on a temporary basis. When a community is constantly changing and the inhabitants are temporary there is a risk of decreasing attachment to the neighborhood and social morals failing.

Now the police's ability to fight crime and keep the community safe has been limited to an even greater extent as the result of a political power trip. In summary: man breaks law, police tell man to surrender, man refuses. Police K-9 apprehends man, so, of course, man sues. They mayor says he's imposing the ban on behalf of the citizens who complained, but the police aren't buying it. They are calling it a purely political move, and they are worried, and rightfully so, that their ability to protect the public will be compromised.

This is a classic example of criminal justice policy not reflecting criminal justice realities. It's all well and good to impose statutes and write code, but if it doesn't work on the street it's useless at best and harmful at worst.

Moral of the story? Pick different vacation spot on the Jersey Shore.

For more on this story, follow the link below to the AP article.

http://www.nj.com/news/index.ssf/2009/08/atlantic_city_indefinitely_sus.html

Again, a failure of justice…

So the Lockerbie Bomber has been set free, all in the name of compassion. The Scottish courts say that the former Libyan intelligence officer is dying of prostate cancer, and with Ramadan approaching it would be a great show of mercy is they released him on compassionate grounds. Which I find incredibly ironic. Here is a man with absolutely no compassion and an absolute contempt for the sanctity of life… and the courts think that he deserves the mercy he'd never show to others. Now I hesitate to say that Hammurabi and his theory of "an eye for an eye" is really applicable in today's society… but should a punishment reflect the crime committed and the intent behind it? There are times to show mercy, and then there are times to recognize that the man is a terrorist who blew up a plane and the fact that he's dying a slow and painful death is probably divine justice.

Of course, there is always the argument that it is takes a bigger person to forgive those that do wrong to them, and many British don't think he's guilty in the first place (which I think is ridiculous, seeing as the Libyan government actually accepted responsibility and paid the families compensation). Even some of the victims' families, such as the British Rev. John Mosey, whose daughter Helga, 19, died in the attack, said Wednesday he would be glad to see al-Megrahi return home."It is right he should go home to die in dignity with his family. I believe it is our Christian duty to show mercy," he said. But forgiving someone shouldn't let them off the hook (and to be honest, the Scots can hold a grudge with the best of them).

Compassion maybe be a noble sentiment, but it doesn't translate well across cultures. In the West forgiveness and mercy is a great virtue; in Libya, this gesture will be seen as a great weakness and Abdel Baset al-Megrahi will be welcomed home as a hero regardless of very stern warnings from the US and Britain. The Libyans, and likely very many others across the world, will give lip service to the wishes of the West, note the very conspicuous silence from the Libyan government on the matter for fear of reprisal and losing their tenuous position as an up-and-coming nation. The government knows this issue requires extremely careful handling. But behind their hands they laugh. Petals are strewn before al-Megrahi's feet, flags waved in celebration and crowds flack to welcome him home in triumph.

And what about the other victims' families? Many of the passengers were Americans, and their loved ones aren't inclined to show compassion. "I'm totally against it. He murdered 270 people," said Paul Halsch of Perinton, New York, who lost his 31-year-old wife in the attack. "This might sound crude or blunt, but I want him returned from Scotland the same way my wife Lorraine was ... and that would be in a box."

Regardless of what the courts think "just," the question of what is "fair" remains. And we must ask ourselves how and when mercy and compassion can play a role in the criminal justice system, especially in cases of such extreme hate and cruelty.

For more from the AP News story, visit the below link.
http://www.optimum.net/News/AP/Article?articleId=599375&categoryId=22.

The difference between what’s just and what’s fair

When you are living in a city that is rabid about its sports teams, you tend to hear all the gossip almost as soon as it happens. Michael Vick signing with the Philadelphia Eagles is no different. I am not an Eagles fan (in fact, I loathe them, but that's another story), but even if I were I'd have to seriously reconsider my loyalties. After the dog fighting scandal and the overwhelming disgust shown by the American people as a result, you'd think he'd be a pariah in our society, and certainly not a hot pick for a football team. Apparently, I stand corrected.

Now there is justice, and then there is fairness. According to the courts system, "justice" has been served for Michael Vick. He was sentenced to prison, served his time and is now released back into society to become a productive citizen once more. Considering criminal justice and criminology are my fields of study, I would usually be one of the first people to recognize the logic of this system. But I don't feel like Vick's punishment even remotely reflects the crime. The animals on his Bad Newz Kennels were tortured. Many died, and others were so physically and psychologically traumatized they needed to be humanely put down. These dogs didn't get to spend their time being the big man on campus at some federal prison where he was most definitely deferred to as the local celebrity. I don't think Michael Vick ever had to worry about dropping the soap or getting shanked in the chow line. Let's face it: the bastard got off easy. But the courts think he's paid his debt to society and should be a free man once more. That is their interpretation of justice.

Now what would be fair? Well, these dogs didn't get preferential treatment when Vick was hanging the weakest of them for losing matches, or starving them to make them vicious fighters. Vick is out of prison, true. But she should never get to go back to his old life. The damage to these animals cannot be undone, and he should not be allowed to wipe his slate clean and pretend nothing ever happened. That is a mockery of what is right. It's just not fair. Does he deserve to make a living? Of course he does. The stigma of a conviction should not be an insurmountable barrier for anyone. But should he get to play professional football, certainly not a right but a rare privilege, and make millions? Absolutely not. He should certainly get a job. Maybe he can flip burgers, stock shelves or clean up dog parks.

So who wins in the end? Surprisingly, it's the dogs. Through incredible amounts of patience, handwork and unwavering love, many of these dogs have found families and loving homes. In fact, some have become ambassadors for the pit bull breed, disproving the myth that they are natural born killers. If they are naturally born to do anything, it's probably snuggling. Look at Leo. This handsome guy with his colorful clown collar is covered in scars from his fighting days. But his new career? He's now a service dog, keeping chemo patients company during their treatments and showing them that anything is possible, no matter how bleak things may look. He is proof that in spite of cruelty, and in spite of Michael Vick, there is always a chance for another start. Now that is a good dog.

So to all the Eagles fans out there, keep on loving your team if you must, but if you love animals and human decency too, then maybe you should rethink your alliances.

The Good, the Bad, and the Confusing

I hardly know where to begin. Just when I had resigned myself to playing the waiting game as grad schools considered my applications, everything has sped up to a frenetic pace. Suddenly so many things have changed that I hardly know whether to be ecstatic or devastated.

The first big chunk of news came last Monday. I was napping after a really, really long day at my internship when I got this phone call. Now, I usually just turn off my phone and let anyone who wants to talk to me leave a message, but I was with Super Boy at the time, and he has this weird theory about cell phones. When they ring, he answers. Or, in this case, pokes me in the ribs and makes me answer.

And then suddenly there is this graduate coordinator, a real big shot in the criminology community, asking me how I am, if I'm not too busy to talk for a bit, would I have a few minutes to spare. I think I mumbled something. He might be a criminal justice institution, but he woke me up. He'll just have to deal with me half conscious. And as I begin to full understand what is happened, I realize he is saying things like "very excited," "hugely impressed," "teaching assistantship," "Presidential Fellowship," and "full tuition." And, because I am an IDIOT, I interrupt him and say, "Wait… wait… I'm sorry. What was that? I don't… what? You mean I'm in? Seriously?"

I am such a tool.

But yes, not only was I in, I was being offered the world. Tuition, fees, a salary, a shot at a prestigious fellowship. Out of everyone who applied to the school, I was it. I was the one they wanted. I was the homegrown girl, the state born, bred and educated rising star (or so they said, I am still convinced they had the wrong number). The only downside here? There's a clock on the offer. I have until March 13^th. And it's creeping up very quickly.

Now, I applied to four schools. Two are very far away, but my mentor made me apply (they are the two best criminology programs in the nation, so I kind of had to try). The one I just heard from is my back up plan, a safety school that is still one of the top 5 (and the longest established program in the country). But my top choice… it's an Ivy. The only Ivy with a PhD program in criminology. And I want to go there so bad I could cry.

So… now the bad. And the confusing. With the clock ticking on a very attractive offer from my second choice of programs, I needed to ask my first choice what they were thinking. So (with lots of guidance from my mentor) I send an email inquiring as to my current status, if I was in, did they want to meet me, could they give me some kind of clue. Because you see, they don't tell students until March 15^th.

These deadlines are all a game. A test to see how bad you want an offer, how much you really want to go somewhere. I don't play games. Especially head games. So now I am caught in the middle of two schools and I have more questions than answers.

But I didn't get good news from the Ivy. In fact, I don't even know if I got bad news. All I got was a short, nebulous email that really said nothing at all. They said that there were "only two to three applications" they were looking at to see if they "fit available faculty mentoring." What does that even mean? There are only 3 people getting in? Am I one of them? Or are they talking about some kind of assistantship or fellowship? Are they just letting me down easy? I don't know what any of this means, and neither does anyone else I ask.

After waiting so long I suddenly have too much information. How could so much good news be so bad? And what do I do now?

The background story…

So some background information is probably in order. I am a twenty-something criminology major at a pretty selective state school in the mid-Atlantic region (no specifics here, folks). The department of criminology here is… volatile at best. Lots of regime changes, name changes and, I'll admit it, grandfathering in old to make life easier. Apparently I came in just as things began to get straightened out, and I really have thrived here. I have a great mentor, and I have done very well academically (dumb luck mostly). Suddenly I find myself about to graduate and desperately trying to throw together an exit strategy.

Considering I have been spending the majority of the past few months trying to get into PhD programs, I haven't actually searched for jobs. So there is no plan B if plan A falls through. Oops. And, because I am a sucker for punishment, I am also interning at state and federal organization (I'd tell you where, but then I'd have to kill you… no… really). Oh yeah, and I am on the campus EMS squad. And I get sucked into doing all kinds of extra things that are time consuming and make me want to pull my hair out.

So, hi. I'm rozzie bear, a walking ball of over-stressed and overbooked nerves.

But I am lucky in many respects. Firstly, I am pretty darn smart. Not by any real hard work, just good luck and good genes. So the whole grad school thing might be a real possibility. And I have a great family. They're all insane, of course. Family reunions, especially the big holidays, are more like feeding time on the psych ward. But they really are the most loving and supportive (if dysfunctional and gossipy) family around. I may say I'm the lone white sheep in a herd of black ones, but I say it with lots of love… most of the time…

And then there's Super Boy. Super Boy and I met on the first day of college and we have been friends ever since. About two years ago he and I finally got around to dating, and things have never been so good. I know, it sounds disgustingly saccharine. Can't help it though. Even on my worst days (and there are a lot of those) I've got Super Boy to cheer me up, keep me sane and keep me going. Without him I'd probably be even more of a mess than usual.

So there you go. That's me in a nutshell (emphasis on the nut)… So now I just have to figure out what happens next. I probably should do some research… or at least some homework. But no. I'd much rather nap. Oh well. So much for all that drive and ambition.