24 March 2003
Boots: black leather, knee high - need polishing.
Socks: black, knee-high - ready.
Trousers: black - to be collected from the dry cleaner's tomorrow.
Shirt: white, linen - needs ironing.
Jacket: black- ready.
Earrings: Mexican silver stylised crosses - ready.
Glasses: rectangular - need a wipe.
I am tidy, serious, somber. My eyesight has deteriorated from all of the books that I've read and all of the time spent huddled at a computer screen - academic! The black and white of the text of the dissertation that I'll write and bring fame to your esteemed department with reflects in the clothes I wear; I am the text, I am the work. Leather boots, linen shirt - I recognise quality, I acknowledge the world-renowned excellence of your faculty. I am no cheap date. Even though the subject matter is unconventional, see from the crosses on my lobes that I am aware of a) a higher spiritual plane than this earth b) the seriousness of life in comparison to the strange subject and nature of the research. I can cope with poverty and intellectual abuse.
Foundation: moisturising, smooth cream - ready.
Eyeshadow: bronze, pale gold - ready.
Eyeliner: brown - needs sharpening.
Mascara: dark brown - ready.
Lipliner: flesh - needs sharpening.
Lip gloss: black honey - ready.
Teeth: off-white, slightly chipped and crooked - need cleaning.
Hair: ginger, layered bob - needs straightening.
Body: short, curvy - needs cleaning.
I am demure, yet polished. Attractive but studious. My beauty preparations will not distract from my work, but I will be more than presentable at conferences, giving papers etc. I am sleek and efficient.
Breathing with the stomach, not just the chest.
Prioritising my life.
Fully realising that desire is only created when the object in question has the potential to be withheld; fully realising the implications of this on my life and career.
I am a "young pup".
I am fucking bright.
This is how I will contact and conduct interviews with the subject of my research.
This is why I, whilst acknowledging the controversial and possibly unsavoury nature of my work, know it to be important and relevant.
This is the previous research experience which I hold.
This is why I believe that I will be able to do this research, even though it varies in subject from that of my dissertation.
I am aware that it is unusual and not previously performed academically, but look! - several published articles in academic journals stating that more work needs to be done in this area!
This is why, despite being female, I will not be lessened, offended or belittled by this work (though to imply my distaste at this question, my sexuality, the existence of material in this area targeted exclusively at homosexuals?)
This is why I am great and my proposals kick ass. This is why I chose this department. This is why you want and need me.
Further Inside (and not be retrieved)
For fuck's fucking sake. I've spent a fucking year working on this; I got approval from one of your highest members of faculty a year ago! The same member of faculty who said ze'll supervise me! The same member of faculty who thought that this was a really great idea (together with another professor of subject x)!
And having been all but assured by this professor, by the admissions administrator, that I was "in-house", not requiring an interview - what the fuck is this? Don't you think that I'll be able to do it? Are you embarrassed about the subject, that it's not "what the department is about"? Jesus, don't you think that maybe you should have mentioned this twelve months ago so that I could have changed the proposal?
Maybe you don't think I can do it. Two to three years of professional experience, and you dare to doubt my fucking abilities? I've been offered similar places at Oxford, Cambridge, Leeds, York and Manchester - you dare to think, as a concrete Sixties throwback with a tiny library that you can compete? You should be fucking honoured that I'm applying to you. I rock. I have a memory like a computer. I've been published. I'm already employed by you as a researcher!
But if you don't want me, then I have my wide open space and my riches of the universe. I have an antipodean passport. I have graduate medicine training schemes (and God know's that that's looking attractive anyway). I have all of these anyway, but after (xx/xx/2003) they'll stop being back-up and start being essential.
Ready as I'll ever be.