It’s been a world of culture shock.

I’ve gone from a tiny women’s college in a bubble of a campus to a gigantic research university so interwoven with the city that I can’t tell what’s school and what’s not. It’s also co-ed! There are /men/ walking around!! That’s not to say I never saw men during my undergrad years, but I can count the number of dudes I’ve had in my classes on my two hands. That includes cis and trans dudes.

Well. I’m doing my master’s in psych which everyone know is totes a male dominated major. Yeah, there are still like no men in my classes, except for in my neuro/psych crossover course they make up nearly half the class — and that’s because they’re neuro majors. Often class discussion will rotate among three of the guys, which I would ordinarily mind but in this case I don’t because I don’t know what the hell is going on in this class and I’m glad someone is filling the silence.

From Monday to Wednesday, I have 4 classes and they’re each 3 hours long kill me. My seminars during undergrad never surpassed 2.5 hours, and the longest thing I’ve attended was the biology labs. If you know anything about bio labs, you’d know you risk entering a time warp every time you do those things. Anyway, early on I forgot that I had to feed myself and subjected my neighboring students to the cries of my stomach in class.

The classes that go from 3-6pm are tolerable now, but I bet I won’t be enjoying them when I’ll be commuting back home in the dead of pitch black, snowy winter.

I especially won’t be enjoying waking up two hours before my early classes so I can get ready and commute to school in the cold. Compare this to the slow rolling out of bed 15 minutes before class that characterised my senior year, and it’s easy to see why I’m not happy with the change.

There is very little hand holding as a graduate student. Not gonna lie, I’m still a dependent little girl who needs more guidance than what they’re offering. (So far I have demonstrated that I lack the maturity to use my 4-day weekends productively.) It’s really strange being one of the youngest in a program since most of the students took at least a year off to work first, which I was prepared to do if my parents and other family members hadn’t pressured me to start my master’s immediately. Honestly, after seeing the odds of being accepted into a PhD program, I’m beginning to regret my life choices.

It’s a master’s program because I only just learned I PhD programs are stupid hard to get into. The school I’m at right now had over 1000 applicants for the psych program and accepted like 8. Fuck me why did I choose this path of hardship and chasing grants.


I’m hoping this program will help me find a strong research interest. The problem with me is that I like a little bit of everything. I like some things (social cognition, language development, the neural basis of stuff) more than others (anything personality, psychotherapy) but I need to hone in on a narrower topic. Currently waiting on a professor to get back to me about volunteering in her lab, but at the same time I don’t really have the extra 10 hours/week to spare in a research lab…

I am conflicted.

I am tired of being tired.

I am about to stay up all night again.

Until next time,

~ Mimi

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