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I’ve stopped wallowing in the “I feel so alone!” pity party I subjected myself to for the first month or two.

You don't know what you're getting into until you're in it; even now, I'm not so sure what I'm in.

It's scary and exciting for exactly the same reason: The possibilities are endless.

Some things must be worked through, and that takes time.

I think it makes sense for people who aren't satisfied to air their grievances, but it's important to do it constructively and strategically.

“Our recent personal history teaches us that what we will most likely receive when we seek guidance is a swift kick in the pants.”

I'm standing up a little straighter and taller than I used to, wobbling less and faking it less, and caring a little less what other people think.

Although I am a huge fan of the Internets (thank you, Senator Stevens), I am profoundly thrilled by what can happen when you talk to strangers, upside-down-face to upside-down-face, in a place such as a yoga class.

Is it ineptitude or something worse?

Most people would say I've made all the correct calls, but I'm still disappointed with how it's all come out, even if I have learned a lot in the process.

"We're sorry but we don't believe you are qualified for this position at this time," wrote one consulting firm.

I'm sure there were good things about the whole Ph.D./postdoc experience, but apparently I don't yet have enough distance to know what they are.

"Clarity is a gift." --Micella Phoenix DeWhyse

Is there really such a thing as a perfect postdoc? That exquisite transitional period during which you move from peon...

I want to be able to proudly say to someone that I am a "fill in the blank" and not cringe afterward.