I’m now working at the University cafeteria. A couple times of week I run the dishes through the huge washing machine and pick up after lazy students. One time a week I serve beer, coffee and whatever else “customers” are able to find on our assorted list of drinks.
Am I embarrassed to be washing dishes while working on my dissertation? A little bit. Every once in a while I run into someone with a marketable area of study (physics, medicine, etc) and they tell me about the abundance of scholarships they have available to them. They then pretend to sympathize that I have to wear an apron as I hand them their beer.
I’m not taking any courses so, academically, I’m just reading and writing on my own. I tried to picture a life in Germany where I was only reading and writing, where I spent everyday in the library – leaving only to purchase coffee. In this life I could briefly brag about my scholarships before crawling back into my hole – slowly beginning to call my dissertation, “my precious”, and losing what little skin tone I have left (man, I’m going to kick you where the sun don’t shine! Where? Germany?)
I’m actually quite satisfied with having to work. It massages my sanity and makes this country a much less foreign place.
I do, however, have one academic project that pays and it is a translation project. I took it on figuring I would just struggle through the translation and improve my German along the way. I’ve never had to do something so frustrating. I curse the incompatibility of German and English sentence structure as I cry on my keyboard.
I’m hoping to begin posting much more often again so let us not be strangers.
So I scored a job. As far as I know (how far do I know?) I will be helping Archaeologists dig for things that are apparently buried. I talked with the boss today and was told to wear pants that can get dirty, to bring a rain jacket, that I’ll eventually need health insurance “certified” boots and that I needed to bring food because the work is in the middle of nowhere. I’m going to be picked up the train station and then delivered to the top secret dig site. I start on Friday and am expecting Indiana Jones-esque adventures and mishaps. The only problem was that the diggers in the Indiana Jones’ movies were always the first ones to have their soul sucked out, to be bitten by a snake or otherwise seemed prone to fall from high places. As soon as we find something I’m going to yell, “it belongs in a museum!” and run with the item through the fields as fast as I can. While running my coworkers will (hopefully) be chasing me with spears and shouting…