I'm in my office, but heading out in a little while. I've got to meet with the professor for this language class around 12:30. Still need to register, and since it's concurrent enrollment through their extension program, I need to gather several signatures and pay my fees before class.
I also meet this evening with a native speaker of said language, to help me go over some dialectic materials that I will be discussing at this [Field 2] conference in Germany in about a month.
Got cc'd on an email from Tasse Plein to [Center] at Big West Private, which included a rather glowing reference for me. We shall see. I would really like this job. But, I'm not holding my breath, or leaving my life on hold while I wait.
For anyone interested in my childish ideas, take a peek at the comments to the earlier post of that name. That should gain you access to a few of my children's book sketches. I'll be putting up the two with songs as soon as I get around to transferring the music to an electronic document.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Updates on several fronts
Put an ad on Craig's list for volunteers for my longitudinal study. Every previous attempt has so far failed to garner me subjects. Got my first email today, and just spoke with the woman on the phone. I'm quite pleased and excited. I know I can do this. I know that the data will be a rich mine for future studies. I know that what I have to contribute is unique in these studies. But I've got to prove it. My current plan is for a 3-6 month pilot study, paying volunteers (modestly) out of my own pocket, to reward their participation, in the hopes that I will have enough from that pilot study to win some grant funding for the long-term (3 years) project. But, this is only one subject, and only preliminary. I'm aiming for five for the pilot study.
This afternoon, I've been doing homework. Really. I just can't stay away from school. I'm going to take this language class, despite the horrors of commuting. Maybe I can start a language club, and connive others to join me for a non-English dinner after class on Fridays. (<--Btw, I'm quite aware that connive is an intransitive verb... but then I'm also aware that language change occurs through subtle means.)
I emailed the center administrator at Big West Private to inquire as to the status of their search. I got an email a day or two ago from the search committee for the other [Field 1-traditional] post at Big West Private to inform me that I was no longer being considered. So, it looked like the timing was right. She wrote me back to say that they had only received two of three letters of recommendation. Tasse Plein's was missing. Aaarrgh!
Also saw a new listing for a post at a small four-year school in the Midwest. There are potential opportunities for the Rocket Scientist. The cost of living is substantially lower than here. I did a search in the area for 4 bedroom/2 bath houses under $400k, and came up with nearly 750, of which more than half are below $250k! There are two largish cities within about an hour's drive. Anyway, it sounds interesting.
Work work work! It's a rollercoaster I ride, but I might as well take advantage of the ups, while I can.
This afternoon, I've been doing homework. Really. I just can't stay away from school. I'm going to take this language class, despite the horrors of commuting. Maybe I can start a language club, and connive others to join me for a non-English dinner after class on Fridays. (<--Btw, I'm quite aware that connive is an intransitive verb... but then I'm also aware that language change occurs through subtle means.)
I emailed the center administrator at Big West Private to inquire as to the status of their search. I got an email a day or two ago from the search committee for the other [Field 1-traditional] post at Big West Private to inform me that I was no longer being considered. So, it looked like the timing was right. She wrote me back to say that they had only received two of three letters of recommendation. Tasse Plein's was missing. Aaarrgh!
Can you contact at least one other reference and have them e-mail me a copy to complete your file?So, I wrote Tasse:
The committee is reviewing all the files and we will be in touch within a few weeks.
Can you please send a letter on my behalf to [center] at Big West Private? They seem not to have received one from you.To which, he replied:
The upshot that matters is that I'm still in the running, at least for now.Not only did I send a letter to them, but I received confirmation of it from them. I'll of course send another one out tomorrow morning, but this is really crazy.
Hope it works out!
Also saw a new listing for a post at a small four-year school in the Midwest. There are potential opportunities for the Rocket Scientist. The cost of living is substantially lower than here. I did a search in the area for 4 bedroom/2 bath houses under $400k, and came up with nearly 750, of which more than half are below $250k! There are two largish cities within about an hour's drive. Anyway, it sounds interesting.
Work work work! It's a rollercoaster I ride, but I might as well take advantage of the ups, while I can.
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!).
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!).
Childish ideas
Focus focus... okay scattered focus.
Took a look at some of the children's books I've been working on. (WhatNow?, sorry if I've neglected to more directly answer your inquiry previously). I've got two pretty good ones I'm honing right now, both playful, introducing concepts (colors, life cycles of plants, seasons, money), and both including a newly composed song that accompanies the text. I think these could fly. There's a third as well, without music, which may be the best, about creativity and discovery (a found object becomes a number of useful and playful things for a prehistoric boy and girl). I took inspiration from having found an object that plays the role of protagonist in the story, but also from books like "The Glob" (1952, by John O'Reilly--the first book I ever read) and the "Clan of the Cave Bear" series (by Jean Auel).
For now, I've put aside the two earlier ones that I had submitted to that agent who turned me down. They were more personal, dealing with emotional issues (sadness, death) a bit tougher sell. (To be honest, maybe they were a means for purging some of my own feelings at the time). I may return to them at some point down the road and rework them. If I can come up with ideas for a series it might work better. Problem is: I'm no artist. That doesn't seem to be a deal breaker as many children's books are the combined effort of a writer and an artist. But do I let an agent or an editor choose the artist for me, or do I take more initiative in finding one I think is appropriate, and attempting to coax their involvement?
At this point, I'm wondering if I should try submitting to another agent, or if I should try my hand submitting a couple (well-honed) books directly to publishers. Or... if I should try a "Baby Einstein" approach and just start my own label. How would one go about doing that? Do I have enough to make that work (perhaps I'd have to come up with say 5-10 good, publishable books to start)? Do I have the commitment to this project to make it work?
Took a look at some of the children's books I've been working on. (WhatNow?, sorry if I've neglected to more directly answer your inquiry previously). I've got two pretty good ones I'm honing right now, both playful, introducing concepts (colors, life cycles of plants, seasons, money), and both including a newly composed song that accompanies the text. I think these could fly. There's a third as well, without music, which may be the best, about creativity and discovery (a found object becomes a number of useful and playful things for a prehistoric boy and girl). I took inspiration from having found an object that plays the role of protagonist in the story, but also from books like "The Glob" (1952, by John O'Reilly--the first book I ever read) and the "Clan of the Cave Bear" series (by Jean Auel).
For now, I've put aside the two earlier ones that I had submitted to that agent who turned me down. They were more personal, dealing with emotional issues (sadness, death) a bit tougher sell. (To be honest, maybe they were a means for purging some of my own feelings at the time). I may return to them at some point down the road and rework them. If I can come up with ideas for a series it might work better. Problem is: I'm no artist. That doesn't seem to be a deal breaker as many children's books are the combined effort of a writer and an artist. But do I let an agent or an editor choose the artist for me, or do I take more initiative in finding one I think is appropriate, and attempting to coax their involvement?
At this point, I'm wondering if I should try submitting to another agent, or if I should try my hand submitting a couple (well-honed) books directly to publishers. Or... if I should try a "Baby Einstein" approach and just start my own label. How would one go about doing that? Do I have enough to make that work (perhaps I'd have to come up with say 5-10 good, publishable books to start)? Do I have the commitment to this project to make it work?
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Beginning to focus
Years and years ago, my mother had already caught on to my M.O. Not so different from my father, I suppose. His mother used to tell him: tell me about it in a week... if you remember. My mother told me beginning at least in Junior High (oh, so many times, I'm not even sure the Painter could count that high): if you concentrate on one thing... there's nothing you can't do well.
Ah yes, focus. You know, I have found that strength inside at times. I did write a dissertation. There's something to be said for that. Ph.D. You can't take it away. It's my title. I earned it. And in earning it, I learned something, something beyond the classes I took (both those I enjoyed, and those I dreaded), something beyond the subject about which I wrote. I learned something about me. It's true. If I concentrate, there's nothing I can't do well.
It's not the doing that ever gives me trouble. And Lord knows it's not a lack of ideas. Too many in fact. They flow and trip over each other, like letters climbing to the top of the coconut tree. But, I can follow through. I know that. The trouble is deciding which path to take.
Alright, I still haven't settled on one thing. Don't suppose I ever really will. I look at the Painter especially. And I know that what he reflects in personality didn't arise in a vacuum. Little children learn from their parents. Perhaps it was my own stubbornness in defiance of my mother's dictum. I don't have to concentrate. I don't have to focus. I can do many things well. Just watch me. Of course, I'm not a little boy anymore. I realize there is a value in focusing.
What I can do, what I'm willing to do, is narrow down the field. Okay, not one thing perhaps, but I can't do it all. I'm proud of the fact that, in writing my dissertation, and now in my writing in general, I have no trouble at editing, at paring down, and deleting a word, or phrase, or section. My dissertation was about 300 pages, but not, I wish to add, because I didn't delete upwards of 100 more. I did. It wasn't needed. It didn't contribute to the whole.
What can I pare down in my life? For one... I think it's time I shed cognitive neuroscience. Not because it doesn't interest me. But, I can read. Why not let others do that research. I can quote them. I'm no psychologist either. I don't really wish to put too much effort into laboratory experiments. I can discard that desire. Let others do it. I can read. I can quote them.
Little things. Little steps. Paring, pruning, weeding. I'm a gardener. I can do this.
Ah yes, focus. You know, I have found that strength inside at times. I did write a dissertation. There's something to be said for that. Ph.D. You can't take it away. It's my title. I earned it. And in earning it, I learned something, something beyond the classes I took (both those I enjoyed, and those I dreaded), something beyond the subject about which I wrote. I learned something about me. It's true. If I concentrate, there's nothing I can't do well.
It's not the doing that ever gives me trouble. And Lord knows it's not a lack of ideas. Too many in fact. They flow and trip over each other, like letters climbing to the top of the coconut tree. But, I can follow through. I know that. The trouble is deciding which path to take.
Alright, I still haven't settled on one thing. Don't suppose I ever really will. I look at the Painter especially. And I know that what he reflects in personality didn't arise in a vacuum. Little children learn from their parents. Perhaps it was my own stubbornness in defiance of my mother's dictum. I don't have to concentrate. I don't have to focus. I can do many things well. Just watch me. Of course, I'm not a little boy anymore. I realize there is a value in focusing.
What I can do, what I'm willing to do, is narrow down the field. Okay, not one thing perhaps, but I can't do it all. I'm proud of the fact that, in writing my dissertation, and now in my writing in general, I have no trouble at editing, at paring down, and deleting a word, or phrase, or section. My dissertation was about 300 pages, but not, I wish to add, because I didn't delete upwards of 100 more. I did. It wasn't needed. It didn't contribute to the whole.
What can I pare down in my life? For one... I think it's time I shed cognitive neuroscience. Not because it doesn't interest me. But, I can read. Why not let others do that research. I can quote them. I'm no psychologist either. I don't really wish to put too much effort into laboratory experiments. I can discard that desire. Let others do it. I can read. I can quote them.
Little things. Little steps. Paring, pruning, weeding. I'm a gardener. I can do this.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
A totally off the wall proposal
Think Fulbright.
Think Teach for America.
Think global post-docs.
Why are there so many highly qualified, energetic, enthusiastic, intelligent PhDs wallowing away, frittering their talents? Why will so many of us wind up throwing away those strengths rather than sharing them in teaching and research?
Are there not needs for faculty, scholars, and researchers at universities around the globe? Sure, Fulbright offers grants for scholars, researchers, and faculty, but from my experience, these are opportunities reserved for (or highly preferenced towards) the already affiliated.
But just what could we do with a program that placed recent post-docs within their fields at universities around the world, for one year or two or three year stints? I think a great deal of good.
Think Teach for America.
Think global post-docs.
Why are there so many highly qualified, energetic, enthusiastic, intelligent PhDs wallowing away, frittering their talents? Why will so many of us wind up throwing away those strengths rather than sharing them in teaching and research?
Are there not needs for faculty, scholars, and researchers at universities around the globe? Sure, Fulbright offers grants for scholars, researchers, and faculty, but from my experience, these are opportunities reserved for (or highly preferenced towards) the already affiliated.
But just what could we do with a program that placed recent post-docs within their fields at universities around the world, for one year or two or three year stints? I think a great deal of good.
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.
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.
Fortune Cookie
Happiness can be achieved by using your patience.That's the fortune I received in a cookie last week. I taped it to my computer keyboard this morning. Now... if only I could figure out how to use patience... and I mean figure it out NOW, I'll be fine.
Friday, January 12, 2007
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!
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!
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Trust it
My wife sent me an email suggesting I "do something to feel better". It was a forward regarding the current Red Cross urgency for blood donors. I'll try to give blood in the next week. Also, bought some masking tape to begin covering my office walls. I put up a "painting" that the Inventor and I collaborated on a couple weeks ago. The Painter wouldn't give up the one he made of a rather elaborate and colorful sun. But, I'm sure I'll coerce him out of something to put on my walls sometime soon. For now, I still have his Daddy, I Love You collage from last June, which is magnetted to my filing cabinet. And, I put up a calendar of Israel, a gift from my inlaws.
Next, soon, I hope to put up my birthday present from my wife, as soon as it arrives.
Mostly, I know, what I need to do, is keep on keeping on. I trust my path. I fear it, but I trust it.
Next, soon, I hope to put up my birthday present from my wife, as soon as it arrives.
Mostly, I know, what I need to do, is keep on keeping on. I trust my path. I fear it, but I trust it.
A down day
It's not a happy day. Yesterday, I called Western Flagship to check on their search status. It'd been a month since their deadline for supplementals. I'm impatient. I hate being left in the dark about things. It's a bad personality trait, I know. Got a call back today to say they had invited three candidates for campus interviews, but the search remains open until filled. Oh, gee, that makes me feel so much better, to know that I just might be fourth or eighth pick. [I didn't say that].
Around and round we go. Deadline for supplementals to Big West Private were January 1. I suppose they could still be looking at them. But I'd guess if I don't hear anything in the next week or two (and frankly, my pessimism meter is off the charts), I can say goodbye to that prospect as well.
Some of my friends out there have jumped ship, or are ready to.
Me? I'm not steering the vessel. It tosses of its own. The winds of direction and the swell shift violently port to starboard, fore to aft. Stern to bow is covered in salty mist. It is impossible to see.
How odd these feelings. A publisher is interested enough in my dissertation-to-book proposal to send it along for external reviews. I have a conference presentation in [field 2] coming up in a couple months. I've recently made contacts at a large local public university in hopes of moving my research ahead.
Excerpts from emails I've received in the past week or so:
From a random visitor to my PRW:
I want this writing to purge me of these feelings, to swallow my pain, like a fish ingesting tashlik.
My new year's resolution? Ah, to be whole again. I'm working on it.
Just what that will mean, I still don't know. It's not that I haven't sought other prospects, beyond the tenure-track. I was disappointed last year when I applied for a staff post in the graduate division of my doctoral institution. I had had good relations with many folks there. I had been active and engaged as an officer of the graduate student government. But I didn't get an interview. I didn't look like someone who wanted to be staff, I heard. I looked like someone who wanted to be a researcher or professor. I'm not sure much has changed there. I wear my heart on my sleeve.
A few days ago, I got a response from the assistant to the literary agent I had submitted an inquiry to regarding two of the earliest children's books I wrote:
The future hides her offerings in a cloak of mystery.
Around and round we go. Deadline for supplementals to Big West Private were January 1. I suppose they could still be looking at them. But I'd guess if I don't hear anything in the next week or two (and frankly, my pessimism meter is off the charts), I can say goodbye to that prospect as well.
Some of my friends out there have jumped ship, or are ready to.
Me? I'm not steering the vessel. It tosses of its own. The winds of direction and the swell shift violently port to starboard, fore to aft. Stern to bow is covered in salty mist. It is impossible to see.
How odd these feelings. A publisher is interested enough in my dissertation-to-book proposal to send it along for external reviews. I have a conference presentation in [field 2] coming up in a couple months. I've recently made contacts at a large local public university in hopes of moving my research ahead.
Excerpts from emails I've received in the past week or so:
From a random visitor to my PRW:
I happened on your website, which gave access to your fascinating dissertation.From an instructor (PhD, herself) in one of the languages crucial to my present work, whom I contacted about continuing to improve my language-specific knowledge and skills:
It sounds like you have a very interesting research topic. I'd like to hear more about it.It is interesting work. It is my work. But I sit here in my office, white walls staring blankly at me, road noise, emptiness. It's been good of late, really. Yet today I sink into depths. It's a gray cold day here. My knee hurts, still, despite my increase of activity, my more frequent stretching, my bicycle riding and walking.
I want this writing to purge me of these feelings, to swallow my pain, like a fish ingesting tashlik.
My new year's resolution? Ah, to be whole again. I'm working on it.
Just what that will mean, I still don't know. It's not that I haven't sought other prospects, beyond the tenure-track. I was disappointed last year when I applied for a staff post in the graduate division of my doctoral institution. I had had good relations with many folks there. I had been active and engaged as an officer of the graduate student government. But I didn't get an interview. I didn't look like someone who wanted to be staff, I heard. I looked like someone who wanted to be a researcher or professor. I'm not sure much has changed there. I wear my heart on my sleeve.
A few days ago, I got a response from the assistant to the literary agent I had submitted an inquiry to regarding two of the earliest children's books I wrote:
Dear Mr. Dad,No big deal really. It was a hasty move to send the inquiry. I've written two other children's books since then which are in fact much better. I may still resubmit to another agent, but I'll probably lead with these more recent works, possibly revising or discarding the early attempts.
Thanks so much for your thoughtful query letter.
Your projects sound interesting, but [Agent] is taking on very few clients at the moment, so he's going to have to decline the invitation to read your work. As you know, these decisions are highly subjective, and another agent may have an entirely different opinion.
Thanks again for thinking of us, and best wishes for finding a good home for your writing.
The future hides her offerings in a cloak of mystery.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
First harvest 2007
One of the advantages of living where I do: garden fresh lettuce and arugula in January!
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Personality type
As seen on Meandering through academia
| You Are An ENFP |
The Inspirer You love being around people, and you are deeply committed to your friends. You are also unconventional, irreverant, and unimpressed by authority and rules. Incredibly perceptive, you can usually sense if someone has hidden motives. You use lots of colorful language and expressions. You're qutie the storyteller! You would make an excellent entrepreneur, politician, or journalist. |
What's Your Personality Type?
Interesting. I think I'm normally an ENFJ. Perhaps I'm less judging than I used to be.
***Edited to add:***
Just to double check, I took a second test. Here are the results:
Copyright 2005 PersonalityTest.net
***Edited to add:***
Just to double check, I took a second test. Here are the results:
Personality test center
Personality type results
EI: 4 out of 17Your Personality type is ENFP
Extrovert |---------------------------------------| Introvert
|
23%
SN: 13 out of 17
Sensation |---------------------------------------| iNtuition
|
76%
TF: 10 out of 17
Thinking |---------------------------------------| Feeling
|
58%
JP: 10 out of 17
Judging |---------------------------------------| Perceiving
|
58%
Please print this page and keep a copy for your records.
Definitions: The four pairs of preference alternatives above (Extrovert, iNtuitive etc.)
Description: Find out what your type means, which job is suitable for you, which type you are
most compatible with and more!
Copyright 2005 PersonalityTest.net
Back and heading... ?
Sometimes when I take a few days away from the blog, I have nothing to say. Other times, like now, I have too much to say.
The conference was good, but different; different from the SOD conference in November. As my wife put it, there weren't so many ups and downs for me. I guess it's largely because I expect to feel like an outsider in [Field 2], although I was a welcomed outsider. At the SOD conferences I feel like an outsider within my home discipline, the field in which I trained for three degrees, like an returned exile, in spirit neither home nor away.
There was a memorial service for one of the three deaths I mentioned in November. It was quite touching. Remarkable the impact one scholar could have on a field and so many colleagues, young and old. I had lunch the following day with his widow, also a distinguished scholar in the field. She was unreserved in her "unsolicited advice," which I was most eager to accept. Her warmth was one of the main factors in my feeling of being a welcomed outsider.
The one time I met her husband in person was in her office about a year ago, when I gave an invited lecture to their department. It is a memory that will always stay with me. I have a feeling (and a hope) that she will continue to take an interest in my career path and research, and that she will continue to proffer "unsolicited advice" whenever possible.
What I have to take with me now, as I move ahead, is a sense that I really am on a path, even if it veers from the typical course for a scholar. There is a place for my work, though I recognize a need to focus more, to find my niche, to settle in it.
I'm still overwhelmed a bit by the flurry of thoughts that assault me. Today... I am 39. Who knows where I will be when I turn 40.
... I just have to say, right at this moment, before clicking "publish" the Painter called me on the telephone to sing me "Happy Birthday." Tears of joy flush my face. I am happy!
The conference was good, but different; different from the SOD conference in November. As my wife put it, there weren't so many ups and downs for me. I guess it's largely because I expect to feel like an outsider in [Field 2], although I was a welcomed outsider. At the SOD conferences I feel like an outsider within my home discipline, the field in which I trained for three degrees, like an returned exile, in spirit neither home nor away.
There was a memorial service for one of the three deaths I mentioned in November. It was quite touching. Remarkable the impact one scholar could have on a field and so many colleagues, young and old. I had lunch the following day with his widow, also a distinguished scholar in the field. She was unreserved in her "unsolicited advice," which I was most eager to accept. Her warmth was one of the main factors in my feeling of being a welcomed outsider.
The one time I met her husband in person was in her office about a year ago, when I gave an invited lecture to their department. It is a memory that will always stay with me. I have a feeling (and a hope) that she will continue to take an interest in my career path and research, and that she will continue to proffer "unsolicited advice" whenever possible.
What I have to take with me now, as I move ahead, is a sense that I really am on a path, even if it veers from the typical course for a scholar. There is a place for my work, though I recognize a need to focus more, to find my niche, to settle in it.
I'm still overwhelmed a bit by the flurry of thoughts that assault me. Today... I am 39. Who knows where I will be when I turn 40.
... I just have to say, right at this moment, before clicking "publish" the Painter called me on the telephone to sing me "Happy Birthday." Tears of joy flush my face. I am happy!
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Quiet applause?
At the end of September, I posted the initial response from my inquiry to an acquisitions editor regarding some academic book proposals I had, beginning with a transformation of my dissertation into a book. At the [Field 1] conference last November, I met with three acquisitions editors, including the one I had written to. Her press is the smaller of the three, and so far as I know has no representation in [Field 2], whereas the others are large, well-established, respected, and both have strong lists in both [Field 1] and [Field 2].
However, I had been approached by this acquisition editor's predecessor at a conference in Belgium back in 2002, when I had organized a panel (the one with the same focus as the upcoming conference I've recently written about), indicating an interest in covering off-the-beaten-path areas of [Field 1], which appeals to me. In addition, they have recently added a new series which is right up my alley, further supporting that supposition. I chose to send her an exclusive proposal for the dissertation-to-book project, which is as one might suspect a far more circumscribed effort than some of the future projects, being derived from my dissertation. I was frank in my comments to her which accompanied the proposal, noting my interest and activity in [Field 2], and suggesting that some of my future work might better be suited for the other two presses, while also mentioning an interest in the new series. Here is what today's inbox brought:
Projects. Work. Staying busy.
However, I had been approached by this acquisition editor's predecessor at a conference in Belgium back in 2002, when I had organized a panel (the one with the same focus as the upcoming conference I've recently written about), indicating an interest in covering off-the-beaten-path areas of [Field 1], which appeals to me. In addition, they have recently added a new series which is right up my alley, further supporting that supposition. I chose to send her an exclusive proposal for the dissertation-to-book project, which is as one might suspect a far more circumscribed effort than some of the future projects, being derived from my dissertation. I was frank in my comments to her which accompanied the proposal, noting my interest and activity in [Field 2], and suggesting that some of my future work might better be suited for the other two presses, while also mentioning an interest in the new series. Here is what today's inbox brought:
Dear Articulate,
I have now had a chance to read through your book proposal. I am interested by what I've read and I'd now like to move on to arranging some external reviews. Before I do, I was just wondering if you had any further sample material available from the book itself?
Thanks,
Inge
-----------------------------------------------
Inge Fleur
Senior Commissioning Editor
[Publishing House]
Projects. Work. Staying busy.
Blissful rest & bread
We arrived back home from the airport a little after 1:00 am. I had spent over an hour circling the airport in the minivan, waiting for the au pair and her friend to get their luggage. It was swamped.
The boys woke us up around 7:00 as usual, but my wife was kind. The au pair had to drive her friend to the train station around 7:30, so she was kind as well, beginning the day when she returned.
Blissfully, I was allowed to return to sleep until 9:30, a real treat I assure you. I slept well, dreaming of my 39th birthday and our 10th wedding anniversary, both coming up this year. When I finally awoke, I was a bit confused what day it was. That's sleep!
I rose and entered the kitchen, where my wife had kindly taken the bread dough from the fridge, and set it to warm on top of the stove. I've been experimenting with freeform loaves, trying to emulate the bread we ate daily in Central Europe, since we've not found an appropriate bakery in the area. I shaped it, and left it to rise. Now it is in the oven. I'm hopeful. The first was too flat. The second used more flour for a stiffer loaf, which would better hold shape. But it was too dense. I used more yeast this time, as well as a sourdough starter I grew myself.
These are little pleasures. Things that serve to leaven life. I find, when I'm full-time dad, I sometimes wish nothing more than to be somewhere else, doing something else. Yet, today, as I sit still at home, puttering and blogging, I smile at all my boys antics, wishing nothing more than to be just where I am.
The boys woke us up around 7:00 as usual, but my wife was kind. The au pair had to drive her friend to the train station around 7:30, so she was kind as well, beginning the day when she returned.
Blissfully, I was allowed to return to sleep until 9:30, a real treat I assure you. I slept well, dreaming of my 39th birthday and our 10th wedding anniversary, both coming up this year. When I finally awoke, I was a bit confused what day it was. That's sleep!
I rose and entered the kitchen, where my wife had kindly taken the bread dough from the fridge, and set it to warm on top of the stove. I've been experimenting with freeform loaves, trying to emulate the bread we ate daily in Central Europe, since we've not found an appropriate bakery in the area. I shaped it, and left it to rise. Now it is in the oven. I'm hopeful. The first was too flat. The second used more flour for a stiffer loaf, which would better hold shape. But it was too dense. I used more yeast this time, as well as a sourdough starter I grew myself.
These are little pleasures. Things that serve to leaven life. I find, when I'm full-time dad, I sometimes wish nothing more than to be somewhere else, doing something else. Yet, today, as I sit still at home, puttering and blogging, I smile at all my boys antics, wishing nothing more than to be just where I am.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Cutting it close
Tonight around 11:00, I'll pick up our au pair from the airport. She's been gone nearly three weeks, visiting a friend's family in South America. Tomorrow ends my latest stint as full-time dad. (Each time I seem to get worse as I seem to get better. Ah well, I do the best I can.)
Tomorrow, the main [Field 2] conference begins. Fortunately, like the recent [Field 1] conference I attended, it is within commuting distance. I'll need to renew my membership, then register as an "unemployed member". (Ah, the indignity of it... but at least the society's open recognition of that status makes me feel in good company).
Tomorrow, the main [Field 2] conference begins. Fortunately, like the recent [Field 1] conference I attended, it is within commuting distance. I'll need to renew my membership, then register as an "unemployed member". (Ah, the indignity of it... but at least the society's open recognition of that status makes me feel in good company).
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Welcome to tomorrow
A happy, healthy, and prosperous 2007 to all my friends in the blogosphere!
Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow.
Last week, I commented on growing weary of the chase for a faculty post. I've thought a good deal about the matter during the past couple weeks. (Couple weeks?, you say, you've been obsessed by the matter as long as I've known you. Conceded.)
My first year on the search, '04-'05, the year I finished my dissertation and became PhD, I was far less picky. Ironic, isn't it? I would have been content to take just about any post that afforded me the title of assistant professor somewhere, anywhere. I would have been eager to teach any service course, to cover every committee assignment, sit through all department meetings without a huff or complaint. But then... a season passed with only close calls.
Last year, many of you met me, as this blog came into being, granting me an outlet for my frustrations and hopes, my fears and opportunities. The season came and went. The only interview I had last year was for a one-term sabbatical replacement in Beautiful Nowhere. In the end, another close call (2 against 3, as I was told). And now.
The season has come to its ebb. It's not over, for sure. But the new year (reflecting a break between terms) seems to mark a separation between early and late postings. Most of the latter will be one-year interim fills, which other than local possibilities, I don't anticipate applying for (for pragmatic and logistical reasons). In any case, the majority of my applications are already out. Most of what remains is waiting. I wait to hear if the two which have requested supplemental materials will be inviting me for an interview. I wait to see if any of the other schools will contact me, either for supplemental materials, or to set up a telephone interview.
I am still quite excited about the post at Big West Private. There's a history there with that position, as I've been in touch with the center's director for a couple years now. The more I think about the position, the more I realize it is in many ways the type of position I've been hoping for. At the moment, just about everything else pales in comparison, which leads me to the sentiment at the end of "I grow weary of the chase" (linked above).
And it leads me perhaps closer to striking out on my own (in earnest this time, not in consolation while I continue to wait). I have been self-employed for just about all of my adult life (other than waiting tables, which is rather close to freelancing, in any case). In part it's due to my drive and spirit; in part, it's also due to my stubbornness and thirst for freedom (both of which are somewhat anathema to surviving in a university department). As a graduate student, the former qualities made up for the latter. So far, I haven't been afforded the chance to see if that continues to facultyhood.
What I have resolved is that now ends the time in which my self-identity is defined by my lack of a university title. From here on, I'm Articulate Dad, PhD: researcher, writer, entrepreneur, husband, father, brother, son. If yet a faculty post comes along, whether an offer from Big West Private, Western Flagship, or somewhere else, I will consider it, in consultation with my wife and family. But I resolve to be whole without it.
Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow.
Last week, I commented on growing weary of the chase for a faculty post. I've thought a good deal about the matter during the past couple weeks. (Couple weeks?, you say, you've been obsessed by the matter as long as I've known you. Conceded.)
My first year on the search, '04-'05, the year I finished my dissertation and became PhD, I was far less picky. Ironic, isn't it? I would have been content to take just about any post that afforded me the title of assistant professor somewhere, anywhere. I would have been eager to teach any service course, to cover every committee assignment, sit through all department meetings without a huff or complaint. But then... a season passed with only close calls.
Last year, many of you met me, as this blog came into being, granting me an outlet for my frustrations and hopes, my fears and opportunities. The season came and went. The only interview I had last year was for a one-term sabbatical replacement in Beautiful Nowhere. In the end, another close call (2 against 3, as I was told). And now.
The season has come to its ebb. It's not over, for sure. But the new year (reflecting a break between terms) seems to mark a separation between early and late postings. Most of the latter will be one-year interim fills, which other than local possibilities, I don't anticipate applying for (for pragmatic and logistical reasons). In any case, the majority of my applications are already out. Most of what remains is waiting. I wait to hear if the two which have requested supplemental materials will be inviting me for an interview. I wait to see if any of the other schools will contact me, either for supplemental materials, or to set up a telephone interview.
I am still quite excited about the post at Big West Private. There's a history there with that position, as I've been in touch with the center's director for a couple years now. The more I think about the position, the more I realize it is in many ways the type of position I've been hoping for. At the moment, just about everything else pales in comparison, which leads me to the sentiment at the end of "I grow weary of the chase" (linked above).
And it leads me perhaps closer to striking out on my own (in earnest this time, not in consolation while I continue to wait). I have been self-employed for just about all of my adult life (other than waiting tables, which is rather close to freelancing, in any case). In part it's due to my drive and spirit; in part, it's also due to my stubbornness and thirst for freedom (both of which are somewhat anathema to surviving in a university department). As a graduate student, the former qualities made up for the latter. So far, I haven't been afforded the chance to see if that continues to facultyhood.
What I have resolved is that now ends the time in which my self-identity is defined by my lack of a university title. From here on, I'm Articulate Dad, PhD: researcher, writer, entrepreneur, husband, father, brother, son. If yet a faculty post comes along, whether an offer from Big West Private, Western Flagship, or somewhere else, I will consider it, in consultation with my wife and family. But I resolve to be whole without it.
Friday, December 29, 2006
Why do I not look forward to Saddam's execution?
Why?
First, it is quite simple. I take no delight in murder or revenge. They are the marks of animals, not human beings.
As Percy Shelley wrote, in The Mask of Anarchy:
Murder is barbarism. The death penalty is unbecoming a modern world. Execution is barbaric; it reflects on the victors far more than the victims.
Second, assuming Saddam is guilty of even a portion of what he has been accused (which I have little reason to doubt), the least, the very least, that a civilized nation, a civilized court could offer is a fair trial, which I have little reason to believe his was. The closure that a fair trial, a fair finding of guilty, a harsh but civilized penalty that reflects the nature of the society in which it is issued rather than the bestial properties of the accused.
Pity that. And pity that the animals who led my great nation to war, to exchange barbarism for barbarism, violence for violence, blood for blood, wrong for wrong, who ensnared the innocent in the midst of that, who caused the deaths of thousands upon thousands, who destroyed a portion of our youth, poisoning their lives with death and murder still have not acknowledged their mistakes, their deceit for God-knows-what purpose to attack the tyrant of a nation, indeed that nation itself, in exchange for an attack on our soil which had nothing to do with them.
I grieve for my world, and hope that humanity will return for my children's sake.
First, it is quite simple. I take no delight in murder or revenge. They are the marks of animals, not human beings.
As Percy Shelley wrote, in The Mask of Anarchy:
...What is Freedom?--ye can tellSimple enough advice. A measure of strength, I believe.
That which slavery is, too well--
For its very name has grown
To an echo of your own.
... 'Tis to be a slave in soul
And to hold no strong control
Over your own wills, but be
All that others make of ye.
...Then it is to feel revenge
Fiercely thirsting to exchange
Blood for blood--and wrong for wrong--
Do not thus when ye are strong.
Murder is barbarism. The death penalty is unbecoming a modern world. Execution is barbaric; it reflects on the victors far more than the victims.
Second, assuming Saddam is guilty of even a portion of what he has been accused (which I have little reason to doubt), the least, the very least, that a civilized nation, a civilized court could offer is a fair trial, which I have little reason to believe his was. The closure that a fair trial, a fair finding of guilty, a harsh but civilized penalty that reflects the nature of the society in which it is issued rather than the bestial properties of the accused.
Pity that. And pity that the animals who led my great nation to war, to exchange barbarism for barbarism, violence for violence, blood for blood, wrong for wrong, who ensnared the innocent in the midst of that, who caused the deaths of thousands upon thousands, who destroyed a portion of our youth, poisoning their lives with death and murder still have not acknowledged their mistakes, their deceit for God-knows-what purpose to attack the tyrant of a nation, indeed that nation itself, in exchange for an attack on our soil which had nothing to do with them.
I grieve for my world, and hope that humanity will return for my children's sake.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
I grow weary of the chase
[What follows are the thoughts of a man exhausted from the holidays, full-time parent for the past week, and one more to come. These factors color my mood, I know. What I don't know is who will emerge with my face in the mirror come 2007.]
In his final months, my father and I had a frank conversation. I had been encouraging him as much as I could, to write, to use his mind, to be productive. I have perhaps a couple hours of recordings from that time, of him reciting his own poems. A weary and raspy voice recounts the words he penned in better days. His confusion, and loss of direction in the verse, as he worked to cant the proper tone, are palpable, and sad. That day, he paused in his response: "The hardest thing is... the hardest thing... is not being productive."
Indeed.
Beside me on the couch lies a heap of books: Children's Writer's & Illustrator's Market; Guide to Literary Agents; Writer's Market, Deluxe Edition; Nolo's Patents for Beginners and Patent, Copyright & Trademark. I wonder about venture capital, about starting my own company dedicated to the practical applications of my research.
I grow weary of the chase. The hardest thing is not being productive.
I search. I seek. I apply. And I wait. Tired am I.
The time ripens, like a persimmon, slowly, but inexorably. The new job listings are few and mostly fail to excite me. There is one more for me to send off, deadline end of February. That makes about 18 so far this season, I believe. Not too shabby. Not too selective. And I wait to hear more from the schools I've already applied. Yes, I had requests for supplemental material from two schools. Perhaps more will come. I don't know.
Three applications I submitted had January deadlines, so they're still open. Eight closed in December. Of the two who asked for supplements, one closed mid-November, the second at the beginning of December. I am still committed to this season. I may yet harvest fruit where barren branches have taunted me so far.
But I do wonder whether the quarry warrants the effort. I find it ever more difficult to imagine myself next year at 39, pushing 40, sitting just where I sit now, still waiting and wondering.
I begin to think: any club that wouldn't have me... fuck 'em!
In his final months, my father and I had a frank conversation. I had been encouraging him as much as I could, to write, to use his mind, to be productive. I have perhaps a couple hours of recordings from that time, of him reciting his own poems. A weary and raspy voice recounts the words he penned in better days. His confusion, and loss of direction in the verse, as he worked to cant the proper tone, are palpable, and sad. That day, he paused in his response: "The hardest thing is... the hardest thing... is not being productive."
Indeed.
Beside me on the couch lies a heap of books: Children's Writer's & Illustrator's Market; Guide to Literary Agents; Writer's Market, Deluxe Edition; Nolo's Patents for Beginners and Patent, Copyright & Trademark. I wonder about venture capital, about starting my own company dedicated to the practical applications of my research.
I grow weary of the chase. The hardest thing is not being productive.
I search. I seek. I apply. And I wait. Tired am I.
The time ripens, like a persimmon, slowly, but inexorably. The new job listings are few and mostly fail to excite me. There is one more for me to send off, deadline end of February. That makes about 18 so far this season, I believe. Not too shabby. Not too selective. And I wait to hear more from the schools I've already applied. Yes, I had requests for supplemental material from two schools. Perhaps more will come. I don't know.
Three applications I submitted had January deadlines, so they're still open. Eight closed in December. Of the two who asked for supplements, one closed mid-November, the second at the beginning of December. I am still committed to this season. I may yet harvest fruit where barren branches have taunted me so far.
But I do wonder whether the quarry warrants the effort. I find it ever more difficult to imagine myself next year at 39, pushing 40, sitting just where I sit now, still waiting and wondering.
I begin to think: any club that wouldn't have me... fuck 'em!
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