Amazed and delighted

The Inventor: (playing with the top of our hamper, frustrated that he couldn't get it back on).
Me: Whatchu got there?
Inventor: I can't get da top back on.
Me: I see. Well, daddy will fix it.
Inventor: Daddy, you can't fix it while you are in bed.

Remember... this is a two-year old speaking (to be precise 28 months)! I was blown away.

The Painter: (having just stepped away from working on his 16x16 times table -- he's systematic, he did 5x5, then 6x6, then... you get the picture) Daddy, I figured out a pattern with my nines.
Me: Yeah? What's that?
Painter: Wull... um, it goes 9, then 18, then... 27, then... 36, ... 45, ... 54, ... 63, ... 72, then 81.

I had noticed, a few minutes earlier, that he had written 73 for 8 x 9, but unusually, all the rest of the 8 row was correct. Normally, when he makes one error, it's compounded each time, as he adds to the last one. This time was different. Funny, I had even been thinking about telling him that trick about nines, that each multiple ends with the last digit one less than the previous. But I hadn't said a word. I guess he figured out his error by himself. (If I think of it, I'll post a picture tomorrow. Funny, he didn't fix the error, at least not before bed. I wonder what he'll do tomorrow).

The Painter is five, as of two weeks ago. He starts kindergarten in the fall. He had been declaring that he would never go to school, until of course the Rocket Scientist had the brilliant suggestion that he won't be going to school, just kindergarten. Ah... well, that's different. And now... I think he's more ready for it than I am. Five! Blink and he'll be fifteen. Hide the car keys!

On the road again

Tomorrow morning, Rocket, the Painter, the Inventor, the au pair and I all head to the airport to spend about a week visiting my mom for part of Passover. Happy Pesach to all appropriate parties. And... I'm so looking forward to my first blogger meet up with a virtual friend!

Life is pretty good right now.

Funny thing happened today. Recall that I had mentioned how I had decided to forgo applying for the one-year post at the local big university, until I got a call back yesterday. After my talk with their former chair yesterday, I left a message for the current chair (contact for the posting), just to touch base with him.

Sometime this morning, I realized woops! the priority deadline for the posting was April 1. Hmmm... what to do? Then, I got a call back from the current chair, who said they received a letter of recommendation (electronically) from Tasse Plein this morning. (Tasse sent me a copy... lovely, really lovely!). Current chair mentioned that the deadline had officially passed, but said they'd accept my materials if I sent them electronically today, which I did.

It feels good to have applied, and we'll see what comes. I'm in a good place now, not needing this, really. Though I'd still be pleased to consider an offer.

Be well, my friends. I might be posting lightly the next week or so.

Silent phase

I've been silent a few days. Haven't felt like I had anything to say. Not really sure what to write now.

My brother-in-law and his wife were in town (last Thursday through last night). That was nice. In part it might explain some of my silence. And, there're taxes, which have taken up some of our time lately.

I'm just quite uncertain right now. Several of you fellow bloggers have been writing about writing, or about conferences, or about grading and teaching. I sit in my office, wondering what to do.

Partly, there's some confusion, coming from my wife's ups and downs about her work. She's dealing with an existential crisis herself. Part of her is pulling her to spend more time at home with the family. But there are hidden hands gripping the bars of her career, unwilling to loosen their grasp. Figuring out why they are holding on, and what the bar represents has been distracting both her and me for a while.

These uncertainties impact me in determining how much and when I need to bring in income. Thinking about that weighs on me, feeling an emptiness from taking. Having no income makes me feel like a fat, spoiled 20-something lying on a couch, watching sitcoms, and playing video games all day. Sure, I contribute at home. And I handle the finances, pay the bills, manage the investments. And I know the guilt is fruitless.

I haven't been lying on a couch. But I'm reminded of the lesson I learned years ago, about auditions. They don't care how long it took you to learn the part. They don't care how hard you tried. They care only about whether you pull it off. Today, I feel like I haven't yet pulled it off. I've been shirking a role that seems ill-suited to me. Yet, I'm still trying on costumes, reading over scripts, wondering if this one or that is a better fit.

I've been doing more reading recently. But days go by that seem to be rather unproductive. Accomplishments seem inordinately small in comparison to the time spent.

Mixed signals. There's still a tug for me to the academy. Yet, the academy has pushed me off, repeated, consistently, for years. The bitter taste still dwells in my craw. But I realize the acridness is mostly self-induced. Like with feelings and thoughts, it's up to me how to proceed.

Baking improvements

I have not yet achieved mastery of baking, but recently dedicated myself to improving this lack. One motivator was the fact that we fell in love with the bread we could purchase daily and cheaply in Central Europe during our year abroad. In Paradise, we were fortunate to find a wonderful bakery that provided us with "multigrain basket" bread, a rather good approximation. But there is nothing of the sort here in the Rocket City area. Below is my most recent attempt at a sourdough multigrain loaf. The size, shape, flavor and texture are closer to my aim, but still not quite right.


Actually, the pictured loaf was a bit big. We were used to purchasing 1 kilo loaves in Europe (often half, or quarter loaves). This one weighed in at 1.6 kilos! I've got a sourdough rye loaf rising at the moment, a smaller one. We'll see how that turns out. The difficulty is in making a free-form loaf that doesn't fall flat. It needs enough density to hold its shape without becoming a brick.

And, below, this morning's crop of apple-banana-mango pancakes (served with Articulate's homemade mango and strawberry jam, of course). Don't worry, we had ample leftovers to put away.


Again, this is a not-quite-perfect creation. The boys adore pancakes. Part of my aim is to get more fruit into #1. While #2, at 2 years old, is still content to eat just about anything, #1, at 4;11, attaches himself to certain rather arbitrary refusals. He loves mangoes, but won't touch apples or bananas these days (unless they're disguised). I've taken to blending up the fruit and mixing it in with the batter. I've created some delicious but rather mushy results, realizing that the proportions are not quite right. Today's included about 1/2 cup each of chopped apples, mangoes, and bananas (blended it comes to just over 1 cup total), two eggs, 3 cups of flour, 2-1/2 cups of milk, 2 tbs. baking powder, and 1/4 tsp. of salt. Good, but I still want to do better. I could probably reduce the baking powder to 1.5 or even 1 tbs. But I'm not sure what other adjustments to make. Any thoughts?

Inventor as explorer

Visiting the local botanic gardens not too long ago, the Inventor went exploring in the land of giant cactus:

Paint by numbers

Lest any of you forget my domesticity, I begin a series of posts that highlight that aspect of my nature. Perhaps, in emulation of my dear friend, Lilian, a proud show of domesticity may help rub some of her family's recent good luck on the Articulate clan.


The Painter, a rather methodical sort, has discovered a great interest in numbers. Here, and below, evidence, from two different afternoons this past week.

Tacky Schmacky

Tackiness be damned. I wrote earlier in the week of my dilemma regarding possibly lost emails. I decided, what the hell. There were only about a half dozen people whom I had written to in the past week or so from whom I had been expecting replies. I wrote them all brief notes this morning indicating that I had had some server problems earlier in the week, causing some senders to receive bounced email messages. I asked that they resend any emails that suffered that fate, apologized for the inconvenience, and said in any case that I looked forward to hearing from them. At least that's done.

Now, on to more analysis, new contacts, and working up my personal syllabus for life to send to my coach tonight. Rocket will be joining us for the coaching tomorrow for the first time. Tomorrow is one of her Fridays off, due to her 9/80 work schedule. I hope (and expect) the coaching will benefit her as well. She's been back and forth lately. It's been a not-so-great week for her at work, which means she's leaning more toward the dream of taking time off. But it's not so clear. I hope the joint coaching will help clarify matters.

3:00 am, 4:00 am...

3:00 am, the Painter enters our room, mumbles something. My wife takes him back to bed. What did he want? I don't know... something about, he wanted to get the water bottle out of the corner of his bed, or something... Oh, okay.

... I couldn't get back to sleep. Too many thoughts. Thoughts are good... it's just the anxiety of them, the urgency at 3:00 am. I'd rather be more thoughtful and productive when the sun is out.

I got up, went to my computer, dealt with some minor nuisances regarding my PRW (which is STILL DOWN by the way)--I needed to update my billing information... still waiting.

Then... I typed up some notes for contacting one of the founders of Steel Industries, Evan Gray, who was recommended to me at [Industry Conference West] by Matt Suliman, the founder and visionary of a very exciting small startup company SciFi Now. I decided, I need to get back to making contacts (even if I'm in temporary hiatus because of the lapse of my domain name). And, there would be few better contacts to make than Evan.

Steel Industries is really my first target to hire me, either as an employee or a consultant. I need to understand, as well as I can, how their technology works, what issues they are already dealing with, what they have in the pike, and how my research can fit into it. I have a suspicion that I'm on to something. But I need to make sure I'm not reinventing the wheel. Humility, commitment, persistence.

3:45 am... I return to bed. 4:00 am... the Painter is back... What do you need, sweety? Nothing... I just want to snuggle. He crawls into bed with us.

I had a dream that there was this boy, and he asked why we should be alive. Hmmm. I think we should be alive because life is pretty wonderful. What do you think? How is your life? Well, it's sort of medium. Alright, dear. We'll have to work on that. Good night. Good night, daddy!

I could sleep after that.

Retreat, Release, Discard, Accept

A few days ago, I wrote that Rocket looks like she is closer to realizing that what she really wants is to take a break from (or leave behind) her work week and career, to spend more time with family and nature. Hmmm.

Tuesday, she spent the day in a class at work. They pay her to sit all day in a classroom, learning about the sorts of tasks other people do, the sorts of tasks she might do, if she chose to switch roles at work. (They pay her a handsome wage to learn. Not the pitiful wage of a TA, but a real wage. I can't even imagine. I wonder if she has the slightest understanding of just how much I relish that, how envious I am even). The class let out early. According to policy, she bills her hours by percentages, not by hours, to whatever "programs" she's assigned to. 100% of time that day to the class. So... she came home early, with only a slight tinge of guilt over it.

Yesterday, she left for work around 7:30. I spoke with her around 4:30 or so. She said to expect her around 6:00. I watch the boys from 4:00 these days. I normally start cooking dinner when she gets home. 6:15, the boys and I were playing in the backyard, the sky was darkening to evening. The phone rang. My wife. Oh, sorry... I'm just leaving work now. I'll see you in about a half hour?

[SIGH]. It was alright. We were having a good time. I decided to put on a movie for the boys, and get dinner ready: pasta shells with a white clam sauce, fresh salad (with lettuce and arugula from the garden and homemade clover, alfalfa, and fenugreek sprouts).

When she arrived, I noted that perhaps she was not so ready to chuck it all as she might have thought. Good days. Bad days. But what does she want from work, from life? Balance, she suggests: time for being intellectually useful and time for family. A worthy goal. But just what is that balance? And just what is being intellectually useful?

She mentioned surprise a bit at my drive to start a consultancy. But a few weeks ago, you said that all you wanted was for someone to hire you. Indeed. But no one has. I take it as it comes. There are many things I have wanted these past couple years, many things I expected, many I felt I deserved. But they have not come. No one has hired me to teach, or research. No one pays me to learn what might be useful or interesting to me. So, I grasp at the wind, throw my net in the water, turn over the rocks in the field, climb trees and shake the limbs. I wander in search of a home, a home for my intellectual and professional pursuits.

Ah, to be intellectually useful. That would will be great! In response to Paul's question how I sabotage myself, I said (in all honesty): By holding on to my sense of injustice... By an unwillingness to move on. Paul's reply:

Would have bought this when I met you. Don’t buy it now. You’re not doing this anymore. ... Feels to me like you’re getting pretty damn close if not already doing it. What am I missing?

It were quite easy to hold on, to focus on the imbalances, my lacks. It were quite easy to compare myself to others, and wonder why, and how, to feel wounded, and neglected, wasted, unsure. In short, it would be quite easy to sabotage myself. But then... I've got better things to do with my energy and my time. Sure, I feel those things. But just like ideas, feelings are the easy part; it's what we do with them that matters.

The road ahead is not the one I have built; neither was the one behind. But I've left my mark on the past, and will inscribe myself on the future. There are choices we can make, and some options we simply need to accept. I am thankful for the success of those around me, my wife, my friends, whether any of them fully appreciate these successes. I am thankful for having had the opportunity to develop myself as I have, to have learned the things I know, and for the support and strength that others have given me.

This isn't such a bad place to start building tomorrow.

Playin' hooky

The Rocket Scientist called in sick today. To be fair, she has been a bit under the weather. A cold made its rounds of the household while I was out of town. But... I think she decided there were other things she'd rather put her energy into today than the tasks she's assigned at work.

We had a date last night. A nice evening out: dinner, a couple cocktails, and conversation. We finished dinner around 7:00, which was way too early to head home, since the boys go down for the night sometime after 8:00. So, we went to a park, to walk, and sit, and talk. It's a wonderful thing, ten years into a marriage, to still enjoy each other's company. A wonderful thing.

This morning, the au pair took the boys to the zoo, and Rocket and I had a leisurely breakfast, then sat outside on the back patio (the weather here is like summer; not exactly looking forward to August I confess!). She took out a journal, to think through what she wants.

It looks like she is closer to realizing that what she really wants is to take a break from (or leave behind) her work week and career, to spend more time with family and nature. And I... I have realized this past week that the reason I went back to graduate school was not to become a professor, though that was my honest expectation, but rather to play the role of doctoral student, a role I admit I thoroughly enjoyed, one which I played well. It's just the past couple years since graduating, I've been miserable.

I never wished to be cast as the PhD endlessly looking for a faculty job. It's not a role I play particularly well, not a role I really enjoy! I've realized that I have a choice now, a choice of roles which I wish to play. No, I can't choose my career, because I have no control over whether or not I get hired to work in [Applied Research Field]. Even if I build a consultancy, a strong possibility at this point, I can't guarantee that it would succeed, that I would gain clients, that I would make the sort of living that I seek. But, I can choose to follow that path, to pursue such a career. And honestly, right now, the way I feel, that is a role I think I will enjoy!

Embarking on a Journey

I've got a coaching at 10:00. I'll piddle around my office for a couple hours, then head home for lunch. I'll head to the airport around 3:00 or so, then fly to [Industry Conference] this evening. Tomorrow the event begins in the morning. I've got a half hour meeting in the afternoon with this big shot in the field I'm hoping to enter. On Thursday, I head to [Big Western Private] for a coffee meeting with Larry Strope. Hopefully I'll have more meetings and informals with people at [Industry Conference], and hopefully I'll learn a great deal more about just what sorts of work is going on, where my research might fit in, what prospects and opportunities there might be for me.

I fly home on Friday, then off to Europe for 5 days for a [Field 2] conference next Monday. Busy busy. I'm enjoying the work. I'm hoping hoping hoping that I can find a way to just do this work. I've spent so much time and energy simply applying for jobs. That's the real shame. I've spent more of myself on looking for work and less on doing the work I wish to do.

Things are happening now, though. Things are changing. The Rocket Scientist and I are beginning to steer again, beginning to dream together again. She's all over the place with figuring out what she wants. But that's good. Upheaval. One moment she thinks she just wants to stay home with the boys for a few years. Then she wonders. It's time for her to start dreaming again too, to start designing her own life, our lives together.

Wish me luck with all this traveling. I should be able to check in a bit on the blog at least this week. I don't know about Europe.

That's what I need to tell them

During yesterday's coaching (it had been rescheduled from Monday), Paul and I set out on a task to list some milestones, measures really for what it is I'm seeking.

• To own a house in a "college town".
• I mean "college town" to connote a small city with culture and an intellectual climate.
• To take the pressure off the Rocket Scientist to be the provider.
• She'd very much like the ability to work part-time, or take time off on occasion, like say 6 months to have a third child.
• Satisfaction & Meaning in my work.
• I described this, like I did here, as being able to hold a dinner party and excitedly discuss my work. That's a concrete measure for me.
• Consistently good energy with my boys.
• Perhaps this is unrealistic when we're talking about raising boys 2 & 4 (a bit of frustration is par for the course), but I wish to have a better hold on myself that the little things, no matter how annoying, are easier for me to let go of.
• Financial and emotional means to travel and vacation without guilt, without worries.
• A garden and a gourmet kitchen.

Paul then asked: Okay then, say 18 months down the road, you've got all these things. Are you done? Are you happy?

Yes! I think in some ways it really is that simple. No, I won't be finished. I won't stop living. I thought about one of the questions on the initial survey Paul gave me before our coaching began:

What accomplishments or measurable events must occur during your lifetime so that you will consider your life to have been satisfying and well-lived; a life of few or no regrets?

At the time, I responded in part:

What measurable events or accomplishments you ask. I'm not sure I wish to think about it in that way. Let's say they were: to be happily married, and have children, to obtain a PhD, to own a house, tend a garden, write some poetry, cook divinely... what good would having those tangible goals do me? I'm married, have children, a PhD, a garden, I cook well... we sold our house a couple years ago, but we could buy one again, when the time and market seem right. It might be easy enough to say I have all that I truly need, what more could I ask for? Or what if I said I wished to win a Nobel Prize or a Pulitzer. Either the goal would remain unobtained, or I'd be in crisis once it was earned. Those measurable events are not what it's about for me.

The process, that's important. Nearly every married couple is happy (for a time). The trick is to remain so. Being a parent is more than having children. It's a lifelong process, perhaps more than that, as I realize my father is still with me as I go on living. It's that process: To never cease learning. To never cease discovering new ideas, and ways to interact with people. To never cease caring about the welfare of the world. To never cease touching those around me. To never forget to laugh, and smile. To appreciate those around me, even for the smallest things.

But happiness, arrival. Paul chided me a bit for wanting an end-point. He suggested these milestones along the way could help to alleviate that longing.

In reality, I'm not looking for an end; I'm just seeking some waystations, to get off the bus and look around, breathe the air, smile at the breeze billowing the leaves on the trees, hike a mountain pass, smell a flower, then climb back aboard and head on.

We talked a bit about my upcoming meetings at [Industry conference] and my apprehensions, worrying about whether I'd be able to land a job in this field, and what sort of impression I might make on those I meet with. He said, look at that list of six things. That's what you need them to know: that you seek a job where you can own a home in a "college town," where you can take the pressure off Rocket to be provider, where you can be excited about your work, where you can be a good father, take guilt-free vacations, indulge in gourmet cooking with fresh produce from your garden.

I laughed. How could I tell a perfect stranger that? Of course... he's right. Those are the things that are important to me. I've got to get to the point where I can be fully myself, without apologies for my real, human objectives, and find a place where my colleagues, real and human themselves, can appreciate such humanity.

Can't sleep

Just before 4:00am, the Inventor awoke with a cry. This happens several times a week, almost always around 4:00. My wife or I will walk down the hallway to the boys' room, tuck him into his covers, and he's content. It is a gentle reminder of the importance we play in his life, and of the simple gestures that make all the difference. There is something wonderful about seeing my boys asleep in bed, hearing them mumble in that restfulness, giving them a kiss.

This morning, I went. But I couldn't get back to sleep. After about an hour of tossing, I decided to get up, at least for a time.

I turned to my laptop as default. What am I to do, in the middle of the night? I downloaded some articles that are relevant to the new avenue I'm investigating. I found them in fact by following a search that landed someone on my PRW [Personal Research Website]. I skimmed them a bit. But, I'm really too tired to read them. Too tired, and yet sleepless.

This night we had some friends over for dinner. I cooked a turkey breast with mushroom gravy, sautéed zucchini and yellow summer squash, salad with fresh lettuce and sprouts (I grow them myself), and a rice medley. Guests often wonder if we eat like this all the time. Well, yes, we do, mostly. Conversation was pleasant, but too long. They left around 11:00.

One of our guests had asked me how is life: in upheaval was my reply. In upheaval. Too many thoughts to sleep. Yet I'm too exhausted to do much with them, swirling in my head.

My coach, Paul, reiterated yesterday, during a half hour "check in" call: big changes, remember that; I advocate big changes. I feel I am on the verge of them. I feel I'm staring out an open airplane door, ready to jump. I know the parachute is strapped to my back, that it's been tested, that it will be fine. I feel the fear of jumping, the worries, the doubts, and the rush of excitement about doing something uncommon.

Perhaps I'll try to sleep.

Enjoy

I've got a conference presentation in Europe in about three weeks. There are two more conferences I've had papers accepted to, coming up in May and June, though I haven't committed to attending those yet. I have a publisher waiting for fuller chapter summaries for my dissertation-to-book proposal, should I choose to respond. I have faculty job applications out, and perhaps a few more I could work up and send off, if I desire.

The strings that tie me are slack. In a way, the world is open to me. We have no mortgage. We own our vehicles. The only debt we have is what remains of our student loans. We've got enough money invested to pay them off as soon as we like (but our returns beat the interest rate, so we've kept the loans for now).

There is a part of me that wants to sell everything, my books first! A part of me that wants to run to the nearest exit. I don't need any of this. I really don't. That, I know. I just haven't quite gotten to the point where I don't want it. There's the clincher.

But I could, assuming my family is with me, just... go! Buy a boat, and float away. Not a terribly big boat, mind you. We haven't that much money. But... we could run away for a few months, maybe a year. Just disappear in Europe, or Africa, New Zealand, Thailand.

I want... I want a little pleasure. I want to shed this robe of torture that holds me, this hair shirt of my penance, for god-knows-what transgression. Just go!

I want to enter a place of peace, satisfaction, enjoyment. A nice fantasy it is. I look at the posters now adorning my office walls, sailing yachts, sea and sky. I breathe in. Breathe out

I think of the thin volume sitting on my table here, given me by my mother, wishing me all the best. Peace is Every Step: The Path of Mindfulness in Everyday Life, by Thich Nhat Hanh. I read a page or two every now and again.

Let go! Breathe in. Breathe out. Water, ocean, wind, sails. I shudder.

Could this be the winds of change?

I let the deadlines slide. You may recall my new coach requested a laundry list of responses from me on short deadlines that I simply couldn't keep. I had hoped to get him something by last night, but as you might imagine from my last post, I was in no mood to do anything entailing thought at the point I arrived home. In fact, all I could muster was to grab a beer from the fridge and sit... That felt good enough after a while to join my family for dinner. My wife cooked.

I sent Paul a note this morning that I'd get him responses tonight... and I will. As you will see, I've got something to discuss.

On the drive to my language class yesterday, I pulled out one of my audio recorders set it for dictate and had a go at answering one of Paul's questions:

Send me a list of any type of paying work you are willing to pursue while you pursue your career in academia before we talk on Monday.

You know, a little question like that. Any type of work. What would I do? I started to speak. Must confess, the process of thinking out loud into a recorder seems so much more unnatural to me than sitting at the keyboard (or a notebook) and writing. Funny that, isn't it? Writing is rather not the earlier evolutionary development. But then, there is the question of thought. Do we think in speech? Surely not. But that's another point entirely.

What would I do? On the intake survey, he asked:

If you could wave a magic wand and create the perfect situation for yourself as a professional and as a person, what would it look like?

To which I replied:

I would have great freedom in my choice of direction, which projects to move ahead on. I would be involved in efforts to advance our understanding of human behavior, and toward making the world a better place. I would be surrounded by intelligent and engaged colleagues, who could be called up for their expertise, to answer my questions, or to collaborate with on projects. And I would likewise be called up to assist them with my own expertise. I would have sufficient funding and stability that I wouldn't fear to attempt longer term projects that might exhibit a degree of risk of failure, but nonetheless promised a great deal in terms of payoff to society.

As I sat in the car, assaulting my recorder with hesitating words um... uh.... I thought about some of the grants I had been so long ago thinking of applying for. There was also an NPR mention of a relatively new program of one of their major sponsoring foundations. When I recovered from the commute, I did a little web (and hard drive) searching.

In the midst of searching, I came across a brief article (a press release of sorts) on the website of a large, well-established corporate giant, dealing with an ongoing research program that meshed almost exactly with an idea I have for practical applications in the world of the research that most excites me.

There are roughly 100 [Corporation Name] [Field] researchers worldwide.

My best guess is there are somewhere between 300 and 3000 workers worldwide in this area of research inside and outside of said corporation, not likely more. Could I join their ranks? I want to make a difference. I want to do exciting, interesting work. I want to be able to sit at a dinner party and unabashedly discuss what I do for work, with a sparkle in my eye, and welcome their inevitable wows and that's fascinatings.

I think of my dear friend Tracy's recent reflections on being a college professor:

Perhaps it should worry me that none of the things I really love to do have anything to do with academia, but it honestly doesn't. The world of academia is the world of my job -- what I do to earn an honest living. My passion is not there. My passion is here. And I suppose that's OK.

Indeed, it is. I think my wife is a lot like Tracy. She's got an honest job, which she is good at, but about which she isn't passionate. It is also OK that I want to be passionate about my work. I don't want it to take away from my family (which I confess my current obsession with not having such work probably does), but as my wife recently reflected in response to a relayed inquiry from my coach:

Now, your ideas and dreams are extremely valuable. They are what make you the man I fell in love with, they are what make you Articulate. I love to share your ideas and dreams with you.

I am not one who compartmentalizes well. I am who I am; I wear my heart on my sleeves. And frankly, those who like me must like me that way.

So, I sat looking at this article/press release, and started dreaming about getting a job at their research site. Convergences. That's what I often seek in life, like signposts pointing me in a particular direction. The research campus for this work is in a region I have often considered ideal. There's good prospects for the Rocket Scientist to work about 20 or 30 miles away.

Okay, slow down. That's what I tell myself. Look before you leap, because I'm a leaper. We'll see. But I have discovered that, despite my ignorance, there is a name for the work, a field (more in corporate research than in academia), and a possible direction for me to head, one which seems to promise all those things I seek. The big fear I have now is that it might require more training for me to become marketable in the field. But we'll see. If I could get even a low-level job in the field with benefits for additional training...

Bagels, Love, and Sunset

On a lighter note, here are some recent images from my life:

These are the best bagels in the world. I have finally perfected the recipe, based on Rose Levy Beranbaum's recipe in "The Bread Bible," with emendations to add some rye and whole wheat flour. Yum!

This was on the easel one day last week, when I came home from my office.

This was the view from a sailboat a couple weekends ago, in Paradise.

A day like today

Today, the weather was fine, a typical spring-like day in my memory, warm, dry, quiet: the kind of day that never fails to raise in me a certain kind of nostalgia. Weather at times has great effect on me. Endless rain induces a deep lethargy. But days like today normally put me at a distance from myself, granting me the ability to observe.

The Rocket Scientist is out of town today, and tomorrow, in the city where we met. She's there for work. The au pair went to the gym before dinner. It was me, and the boys, alone in the house. Quite a pleasant evening all around. I love those boys.

I got to thinking a bit this afternoon as I sat in my office, settling into my routine, what is my routine, and why? What is my work? I've never been a religious person, I question too much, never able to let go and accept, to rely on faith, or the wisdom of others, tradition. Sometimes, I wish it were otherwise, for I think there is great strength in belonging, in believing; strength that lies ever just out of my grasp, like the grapes of Tantalus.

My father taught me (in the great tradition of my people, known as Tikkun Olam) that my job in life (quite simple really) is to leave the world a better place for my having lived. It's a nice lesson (a burden when you it take it seriously), but in the end a bit hollow, like the cavity of a barrel, wanting wine to fill it. The shape is clear, only its fulfillment remains obscure. In faith, or religion, I suppose there is an acceptance that we might not know the contents of the barrel, but it is ours to carry or store nonetheless. If I were Lot... I'd have turned to salt, just for a peek inside, like Dorothy unmasking the Wizard.

So what is my work? If I am to leave the world a better place for my having lived, what means will be mine to accomplish that end? Without faith or religion, there is always work, the hustle-bustle of involvement. One might not need a deeper answer, if time is occupied, full, proscribed. But mine, just at this moment, is free, wide-open, like the vistas of Montana.

On Friday, I received a rather innocuous email from Inge, the acquisitions editor who is considering my dissertation-to-book project:

Dear Articulate,

I'm just looking at your proposal again, and before I send it off for review, I wonder if you could put together fuller abstracts of your sections: at least 500 words each if at all possible. Because your sample material is not from the actual book, it is important that reviewers receive as much information as possible about the proposed book itself.

Many thanks,

Inge

You know, there's really not much to it. She is still interested in the project; One might argue that her intention in fact is to strengthen the case. A good editor would do that. It's not too much for me to do. But, I've yet to respond. Perhaps tomorrow I will.

For a moment, however, I've chosen to pause, to hesitate, to question, like my friend WhatNow?. I wonder what my motivation is in this project. To write the dissertation was clearly motivated, as that task stood between me and a PhD. But what will this add to my life, transforming the diss into a book? For an academic, the answer again is rather clear: we must publish to gain tenure. Ah... but there is the rub. I can't get tenure without a job.

So, I wonder: will writing this get me closer to that goal? Putting that aside, for I no longer define myself according to that standard: What end would be served by such a book? It's not that I reject or devalue my dissertation research. No. But such a book, despite my arguments in the proposal, would likely have a narrow audience, the same audience perhaps that has so far failed to hire me into their club. And I wonder, will they really care? If it's for them... do I really care?

Put another way, is my time well spent in the effort this project would consume? If not for them, what will I gain through the process? In part, it is my aversion to start something I may not finish that stays my hand. Before I start, I must be sure I wish to end.

Early to rise

Just wanted to say... it's nice to get to the office early. I've taken a ride in with my wife the past couple mornings, getting to my office before 8:30. (It's been colder than I like for bike riding, but I'm sure it'll change soon enough). It's really a delight to look at my clock, expecting it to read somewhere after 11:00 and note that it's not quite 10:00 yet.

The Rocket Scientist begins a new schedule of 9/80s beginning next week, so her getting to work early will be ever more important. And, nicely, it will also give her every other Friday off to spend with the family (or a bit by herself, as needed or desired). Recently, the au pair has been working 8-4 M-F. Of course, with my Friday class being such a commuter's nightmare, I won't get home until 6:30 or 7:00. It should work out fine, however, with her having every other Friday off (long week-short week-long week-short week).

In any case, I'm looking forward to greater productivity, feeling like I'm doing real work, even if a paycheck is forthcoming. And it'll be good to have more family time (just think 3-day weekends twice a month!).

When you can't jump ship, where do you turn?

Life can be thoroughly frustrating!
It's up; it's down.
This past weekend, we took a trip to Paradise for a mini-vacation. The Rocket Scientist had a three-day weekend for MLK day, so we took advantage of it.

One thing: Motel 6 is nice if all you need is a bed and a shower... you know, if you're passing through, but not such a good idea as a destination location (at least not with two young children). Okay, that's off my chest.

Somehow being back in Paradise tipped off some low feelings. Well, that, and my recent sense of despair regarding the current job season. I don't handle silence well. It's good to read BrightStar's description of the job search schedule for a post she's in the running for. First, looks like many places with early deadlines still drag their feet in the process. And (reality check) some of the schools I've applied are still open, or have just recently closed. Patience. Patience.

But, my wife and I have had long conversations (what else you gonna do on a road trip) about careers, and future plans. I said, "there comes a time when you can't keep your life on hold anymore." I'm just open to exploring. What options are available to me?

A few months ago, you may recall, I spoke with an academic career coach. I decided not to hire him. I guess what I've gotten repeatedly (and he was no exception) was that I'm really doing all the "right things". It's not like there's a list of items that I need to check off, and I need someone to inspire me or chastise me to get them checked. It's just... a mystery. So, I felt I was just as fine continuing what I was doing, without sending hundreds or thousands of dollars his way.

Now, I'm thinking I need to talk to someone. Talk to a career counselor. Talk about my options. Hear the wisdom of experience. Well, I thought I'd start with career services at my doctoral institution. About eight calls later, and several transfers (mostly to voice mail), I gave up on them. Looks like nothing is available to me without a fee... but it's not clear to whom I must pay this fee, how much it might be, and most importantly, what services might then be available to me.

Hmmm, I thought, well, if I've got to pay anyhow, maybe I should try to find something in my area. Hey, fancy this: I'm actually enrolling in a course through extension at a local university. Well, local is relative... on Friday for the first meeting of the class, it was about a 45 minute drive there, then about 2 hours in bumper-to-bumper traffic returning. FUN!

But, when I called them, I got about the same run around. Transfer here, check there. Nothing available unless you join alumni association. But I'm not an alum. Oh, that's fine, you can still join... but you wouldn't have access to in-person career counseling. But that's what I need. Oh, in that case, you should join the alumni association, and they'll give you a list of private counselors in the area, who will give you a discount off their fees.

Sheesh. This is my life. The whole point of seeking counseling is to take some burden off of me, to help me rethink where I am, where I'm heading, how to get there. You know, like handing off the map, and asking someone to help navigate. Only...

[SIGH] My parents, giving directions:

Mom: Okay, so you go to Laramar and Wilson... at the corner. Okay, so you'll see this old Shell station. It's really funny because the yellow of the sign looks almost brown. Anyway... you drive straight there, until you see a large bell, like the liberty bell, above a restaurant. I think it's still open. In any case, it used to be there, like 3... no 4 blocks down. Alright, so you keep going... then you'll see...

Dad: So... how do you want to come?

And they help me navigate still.

New face

I have a habit. Every few months I grow or shave my beard. My mother sometimes jokes that there's only one beard in our family, but it migrates between the males.

In the midst of removing the facial hair, I often find it amusing to half shave, or try on different (silly) looks. I'll shave all but the middle of my side burns, or test out the tough-cool look of a tuft of hair below my lower lip. I'll shave only the middle of my mustache, and the middle of my chin.

My wife likes the look of my beard, but finds it normally too prickly, which often prompts me to shave, as it did a couple weeks ago. Nothing spoils a romantic moment like "ow... ouch!".

I thought I'd try a little face lift on the blog. I may play around with the look a bit, or I may be lazy and just leave it.

***Edited to add:
I modified the header as well. I have long thought the blog title would transform into PhD Rainbow at some point, as I transitioned from post-doc limbo to tenure-track. Ah, the hopes. I'm still on the market, but more inclined to self-define my mission, than continue waiting for the magic wand of a hiring committee. Articulate... it's your ship, damn it... so steer!