Many years ago, in a different life lived, I had occasion to drive from Los Angeles to Death Valley, thinking it would take only a few spare hours. I was naive and young... and I hadn't counted on the weather gods' wrath. It rained... and rained... it poured sheets of rain. The sky remained an ominous grey the entire trip, 8 hours, 10, 12? I can't recall, but it was a day.
I was engaged then. I must have been about 19. Thankfully we never married. It would have been a mistake. But the two of us drove, in an old beaten up station wagon. We arrived well after dark, to discover that we could save a bundle by driving across the state border to Nevada, and spending the night there.
Those of you paying attention will note: it never rains in Death Valley! Ah... but it does, it does. Only... it rains but once or twice a year in Death Valley. And we got it all in that one day and night. As we all know from recent events, rain can be devastatingly destructive. But it is a purgative and nourishment like nothing else.
Where I live, it has rained nearly every day seemingly for the past two weeks. But, somehow, it is refreshing, rather than depressing. The skies are embracing the earth, kissing the plants and soil beneath, showering all us bipedal mortals.
There is a story about Alexander Hamilton, growing up in the West Indies (was it?). The story relates to why and how he came to America. He was sponsored by wealthy merchants (or bankers?), as I recall, at the behest of his minister. And why? Because of a letter he wrote, containing an essay on the force of nature which he observed in the strength of a storm. Rain can humble us all.
Here is a poem I wrote many years ago, recalling Death Valley from those years before:
The Rains Alive (8/6/91)
I love to walk in torrent rain
and watch the people run.
I love to talk in torrent rain
to myself or anyone.
I love the colors streetlights shine
against the grayish sky,
Where sovereign clouds direct our eyne
to view the heavens fly.
I love to taste the rainy air
and puff a misty sigh.
I love receiving zany stares
from sober passersby.
To me is rain a mirac sight,
mysterious and proud,
The drops that bend unbending light,
the clouds the sun enshroud.
A miracle, presented once,
allowed my thoughts to thrive:
I saw Death Valley rainy once;
I've seen the rains alive!
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Not much to say today
(Okay, I just know Prof. Me is going to expect this to drag on for six paragraphs... but we'll see.)
Actually, I don't feel like I have much to say here today. I've been working. It's going to be a short week for me, since the au pair is going with friends out of town early Thursday, which means I'm Dr. Dad at home all day on Thursday and Friday, rather than Dr. Me, Visiting Scholar.
I haven't yet submitted my application for Tough Commute U. but I expect to. Full consideration by date is May 15, so there's no rush. The hold up is simply my writing a new syllabus (rather than submitting old ones I've used in the past). One issue I'm dealing with is the edition of the text. I had chosen a particular text (six years ago, when I taught at the community college) and apparently that's the same text they currently use there. However, they're onto the next edition. Does it look bad for me to write up a syllabus with an "out-of-date" edition? I don't really feel like purchasing a copy of the new edition at the moment, since by rights I should get a free teacher's copy, but... Any thoughts would be appreciated.
Otherwise, I've just been working away. My current project is moving along. I want to get through the initial data analysis first, before working on the detailed analyses and comparisons. I'm halfway through the fifth data set right now. I've gotten a pretty good pace on this right now, which feels good. I think there's onlyl one more data set to analyze after this. Then I'll need some input from others regarding the data, to back up my own intuitions; then I can get to the comparative work. Finally, I've got a bit of reading to do in [Field 2], so I can have something intelligent to say about the linkages this data reveals between [Field 1] & [Field 2].
I'm going to work this into conference presentations and an article. If things look really good, I'll work up a grant proposal for a larger project along these lines. I'll also use this work in my host department colloquium talk in about 6 weeks.
So, here's what I have to do:
Actually, I don't feel like I have much to say here today. I've been working. It's going to be a short week for me, since the au pair is going with friends out of town early Thursday, which means I'm Dr. Dad at home all day on Thursday and Friday, rather than Dr. Me, Visiting Scholar.
I haven't yet submitted my application for Tough Commute U. but I expect to. Full consideration by date is May 15, so there's no rush. The hold up is simply my writing a new syllabus (rather than submitting old ones I've used in the past). One issue I'm dealing with is the edition of the text. I had chosen a particular text (six years ago, when I taught at the community college) and apparently that's the same text they currently use there. However, they're onto the next edition. Does it look bad for me to write up a syllabus with an "out-of-date" edition? I don't really feel like purchasing a copy of the new edition at the moment, since by rights I should get a free teacher's copy, but... Any thoughts would be appreciated.
Otherwise, I've just been working away. My current project is moving along. I want to get through the initial data analysis first, before working on the detailed analyses and comparisons. I'm halfway through the fifth data set right now. I've gotten a pretty good pace on this right now, which feels good. I think there's onlyl one more data set to analyze after this. Then I'll need some input from others regarding the data, to back up my own intuitions; then I can get to the comparative work. Finally, I've got a bit of reading to do in [Field 2], so I can have something intelligent to say about the linkages this data reveals between [Field 1] & [Field 2].
I'm going to work this into conference presentations and an article. If things look really good, I'll work up a grant proposal for a larger project along these lines. I'll also use this work in my host department colloquium talk in about 6 weeks.
So, here's what I have to do:
- Finish analysis for this project
- Write up new syllabus, and submit application to Tough Commute U.
- Work up conference talk from this work
- Work up article from this work
- Work on colloquium talk
- Decide on some project for grant apps, and get moving. NEH deadline: May 1
- NIH grant proposal, NSF grant proposal? What are the deadlines? (I told you I was interdisciplinary!)
Monday, April 03, 2006
We are multiple
'Rise like Lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number--
Shake your chains to earth like dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you--
Ye are many--they are few.'
---Percy Shelley, The Mask of Anarchy, final verse
I do indeed feel multiple at times. And I recognize the chains. But mostly, I think they're my own.
I'm thrilled for PhDme her latest news. But I can't say I'm not jealous. Indeed I am. I'm jealous of her success, and ProfessorMe's and ABDmom's, and.... but then, I'm not jealous in that I want their lives. Nor am I jealous in the sense that I wish any less upon them. We have all struggled in our way. The PhD is quite an accomplishment (even if it seems some are less than deserving of it).
And, these are my friends, though I've known them only a few months, though I know them mostly only through their blog personae. We have and do share quite a bit, and I celebrate their successes. But, I am jealous in the sense that I wish a bit more professional success for me. Rather, I wish the one success that has been for me most elusive, an offer of a faculty post. I have had other successes, but unfortunately have discounted them. When it comes down to it, (as WhatNow? recently observed while recovering from a bout of jealousy herself) my life is pretty darn good.
Attitude is many things. If I am bitter, nothing will quite satisfy me, even a faculty offer. And, I've come to recall that my wife has never told me that bitterness is one of the reasons she loves me.
No, that's never been among the qualities she lists. That I make her laugh has often topped the tally. She enjoys that I am a fine cook. She is inspired by my ideas, that I get so excited by them. She relishes the moments when my pitch heightens, as I explain some project I want to work on. She enjoys my magic hands that seem to know just when and where she needs a caress or massage.
We are partners. We listen to each other. We are mirrors, reflecting each other's strengths, and fears. So what if I mooch a bit off of her employer's generosity, off of her talents and skills, that just at this moment happen to be far more usable and lucrative than my own?
Come to think of it, I've never heard her say she loves me for being rich, or for the ease with which she always knew I'd land that faculty post. No, she's as much to blame for encouraging me on this path. She's the one who's ever noted that twinkle in my eye as I attempt cross-disciplinary connections that perhaps were never meant to be (but which I will, to my dying day, insist must be made).
For those things, she loves me. And for all her talents, and her smile, and her laugh (that I am adept at raising)... for her magic hands (and the way she and I can crack up together over the most inane disturbance to a romantic moment that ever was), because she is caring, and giving, and loving, and supportive, I love her... for these reasons, we are together (even if she tried to run me over on my bicycle those 12 years ago).
Thanks to all of you who have recently written paeans to your loves and children. I'm with you there. It's good to remember the important things in life. I'm remembering, too.
Must it be a question of hierarchy?
I mentioned a little while ago that last job season I conducted three telephone interviews, each with a very different sort of school and program. Recently, in discussing this opportunity at Tough Commute University with a friend, she asked where that program lies in the rankings. To be honest, there's no way for me to answer that, since my niche is basically unacknowledged so far, because it is inherently interdisciplinary. The best programs have strong departments in each of the areas. Academia is filled with the hierarchies and divisions between types of schools, types of programs.
For the record, as I have written in several recent cover letters: Unabashedly excited by research, I am equally at home teaching survey courses, or lecturing to the general public. Where does that place me in the spectrum? I think for one thing, it means I might not be fully happy at a two-year school. Does that mean I look down on Community Colleges? In a sense that would be like saying a high school teacher has disdain for elementary teachers, or that those in geriatrics think pediatricians are unworthy!
Surely not. They are different. In some ways, the students are different, not always on a slide from worse to better, simply different. I want it understood that I speak not purely out of supposition. I taught as part-time adjunct at a smallish community college for two years, six semesters, summers included, after completing my Master's and before beginning the PhD. My lecture sections were mostly about 30-35 students. Some of the students were there to blow off life, some to seek further opportunities. Some of them I disliked, at least as many I was quite fond of. Some were rich, some poor, some international students, many locals.
It is not them however that leads me to the thought that I'd be unhappy there. I have thought long about where I might like to work. I have gone back and forth, never quite being sure. Do I want graduate students? PhD committee work? How much teaching? What about research opportunities? A four-year school, or a comprehensive, or a "Tier 1 Research" school? If I think back to my applications to doctoral institutions, I applied to four top-tier schools. Each of them well-known enough. One was private, the remaining schools were public. Three in the States, one in Canada.
For me, to a large extent it comes down to the balance between teaching and research. Perhaps I don't need graduate students of my own (within my own subdiscipline). I can always serve on PhD committees as outside reader. The better known I become in my niche, the more likely this will become. With the present experience I am having, I have come to believe there are far too many PhDs in my subdiscipline (even if I, as Mr. Interdisciplinary, only partly self-identify with it). I don't wish to contribute to that overabundance.
I think I could be happy at a comprehensive school, a 4-year liberal arts school, as much as at a doctoral-granting research school, assuming (and here's the key) that I could continue with my research. The gig at Tough Commute U calls for teaching 6 half-year courses. I think that's the limit for me. At my doctoral institution, tenure-track faculty taught mostly 4 courses per year. In my ideal world, a 2+2 or 3+2 teaching load would be just fine.
Why are research and teaching so often discussed as opposing forces, rather than as complementary enterprises. Teaching means I have to understand my work well enough to make it accessible, which strengthens my research, and enriches it by keeping it grounded. My teaching benefits from an active research program, because I continue to be passionately involved in aspects of what I'm teaching, keeping the arguments and materials fresh.
For the record, as I have written in several recent cover letters: Unabashedly excited by research, I am equally at home teaching survey courses, or lecturing to the general public. Where does that place me in the spectrum? I think for one thing, it means I might not be fully happy at a two-year school. Does that mean I look down on Community Colleges? In a sense that would be like saying a high school teacher has disdain for elementary teachers, or that those in geriatrics think pediatricians are unworthy!
Surely not. They are different. In some ways, the students are different, not always on a slide from worse to better, simply different. I want it understood that I speak not purely out of supposition. I taught as part-time adjunct at a smallish community college for two years, six semesters, summers included, after completing my Master's and before beginning the PhD. My lecture sections were mostly about 30-35 students. Some of the students were there to blow off life, some to seek further opportunities. Some of them I disliked, at least as many I was quite fond of. Some were rich, some poor, some international students, many locals.
It is not them however that leads me to the thought that I'd be unhappy there. I have thought long about where I might like to work. I have gone back and forth, never quite being sure. Do I want graduate students? PhD committee work? How much teaching? What about research opportunities? A four-year school, or a comprehensive, or a "Tier 1 Research" school? If I think back to my applications to doctoral institutions, I applied to four top-tier schools. Each of them well-known enough. One was private, the remaining schools were public. Three in the States, one in Canada.
For me, to a large extent it comes down to the balance between teaching and research. Perhaps I don't need graduate students of my own (within my own subdiscipline). I can always serve on PhD committees as outside reader. The better known I become in my niche, the more likely this will become. With the present experience I am having, I have come to believe there are far too many PhDs in my subdiscipline (even if I, as Mr. Interdisciplinary, only partly self-identify with it). I don't wish to contribute to that overabundance.
I think I could be happy at a comprehensive school, a 4-year liberal arts school, as much as at a doctoral-granting research school, assuming (and here's the key) that I could continue with my research. The gig at Tough Commute U calls for teaching 6 half-year courses. I think that's the limit for me. At my doctoral institution, tenure-track faculty taught mostly 4 courses per year. In my ideal world, a 2+2 or 3+2 teaching load would be just fine.
Why are research and teaching so often discussed as opposing forces, rather than as complementary enterprises. Teaching means I have to understand my work well enough to make it accessible, which strengthens my research, and enriches it by keeping it grounded. My teaching benefits from an active research program, because I continue to be passionately involved in aspects of what I'm teaching, keeping the arguments and materials fresh.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Up
Up since 4:54... well, actually since 4:23 when The Painter came in "to snuggle". That's his euphemism for:
I got an email back yesterday from the director of the the Institute for [Field 1] and [Interdisciplinary Field] at the tough commute school. As I explained, she's in a different field. I've met her at conferences of the Society for Innovative Interdisciplinarity. I wasn't sure she'd remember me, but I wrote her nonetheless, to apprise her of my new research website, and to inquire as to the status of the [Field 1] department on her campus, where the job posting is.
Her response was encouraging. Here are some excerpts:
It's more of that coasting I guess (though I'll take B*'s comment to heart: I have been through a lot of living lately). Nonetheless, I guess it's time for me to put my grant applications where my mouth is. These are good projects, and deserve at least my effort to draft up the grant applications, if not the funding and resources and recognition that ideally comes with them.
That's what got me up early. Dawn is beginning to appear outside. I see a mild blue-gray with hints of pink, in the sparse altocumulus clouds above the ocean, as I look southwest from my living room. I can't see the ocean from here, but it's not too far. Perhaps I'll curl up in bed with my wife for another few minutes of rest before the day begins in earnest.
I woke up because I have to pee, but I don't want to admit it, so I'll just crawl in bed with you and wiggle a lot until you get fed up and suggest I simply use the toilet, then put me back in my bed.But after the near-nightly ritual... I couldn't fall back asleep. I was thinking about research.
I got an email back yesterday from the director of the the Institute for [Field 1] and [Interdisciplinary Field] at the tough commute school. As I explained, she's in a different field. I've met her at conferences of the Society for Innovative Interdisciplinarity. I wasn't sure she'd remember me, but I wrote her nonetheless, to apprise her of my new research website, and to inquire as to the status of the [Field 1] department on her campus, where the job posting is.
Her response was encouraging. Here are some excerpts:
The web site looks interesting! What funding do you have for the various projects?Sounds good, as I suspected. Her first question lingers though. What funding do you have? Uh... me? Um... yeah, I'm working on that.
The [Field 1] department at [ToughCommute University] is in a state of flux right now, but is moving in the direction of [interdisciplinary approach to subject]. ...You might find it to be an interesting place to spend a year.
It's more of that coasting I guess (though I'll take B*'s comment to heart: I have been through a lot of living lately). Nonetheless, I guess it's time for me to put my grant applications where my mouth is. These are good projects, and deserve at least my effort to draft up the grant applications, if not the funding and resources and recognition that ideally comes with them.
That's what got me up early. Dawn is beginning to appear outside. I see a mild blue-gray with hints of pink, in the sparse altocumulus clouds above the ocean, as I look southwest from my living room. I can't see the ocean from here, but it's not too far. Perhaps I'll curl up in bed with my wife for another few minutes of rest before the day begins in earnest.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Another quality rejection letter
It's nice to know that at least some of my rejections come from people of substance. Today's mail brought the following letter:
Now that's a well written letter. Courteous, respectful, straight-forward and honest, without condescension. When I receive a letter like that I feel encouraged and welcome in the field, even in the face of rejection, rather than discouraged or put-off as too often occurs.
Dear Dr. ______________:
Thank you for your application for the advertised position in _________ at the University of _______________. The committee has completed its review of applications. The pool of applicants in general reflected a very high standard. The committee took considerable time and effort in rendering its short list. It is with regret that I inform you, we were not able to include you in our short list of applicants to be invited for campus interviews for this position. I wish to take this opportunity to wish you all the best in your continuing career path in the field.
Sincerely,
[Department Chair]
Now that's a well written letter. Courteous, respectful, straight-forward and honest, without condescension. When I receive a letter like that I feel encouraged and welcome in the field, even in the face of rejection, rather than discouraged or put-off as too often occurs.
Friday, March 31, 2006
Small milestones
I'll take 'em. I finished the initial analysis of the first set of data for my current small project. This is the analysis I was doing yesterday when the program crashed. I've taken to obsessively hitting Ctrl-S, since there's no automation of this function (It's a shareware program, but perhaps the best for what I'm doing). It's a good habit for me to get into (especially since this program doesn't prompt at close to save).
It's a cold and grey day here. It's "Cesar Chavez" day, so the entire campus is closed as well. Since I have a building and lab key, it was no problem for me to get in and work. But... I couldn't get lunch anywhere, and didn't think to pack a lunch today. Sorry to say, I didn't know it was CC day! So, I've been subsisting off of dried apricots and a bag of Chex Mix. (Now, why do I feel like a grad student today?)
It feels good to have reached a small milestone. I had a nice chat with the newest member of the faculty here in my host department. He's a couple years younger than me, but quite accomplished. And we share an interest in [InterdisciplinaryField]. As he put it, he's been lucky. And he has. But he's much more published than I. He gave me some ideas that I think I'll take away with me. Mainly he simply reiterated what I wrote a few days ago about publishing. I've got to simply take the attitude that what I have to say (even if it doesn't seem perfect) is worth sending out. I have to trust that it's at least good enough for feedback. And, who knows, maybe some of those articles will be stamped "pending revision."
Most importantly, I simply have to keep on keeping on.
WhatNow? has been writing about some issues that speak to my present experience. The situations are different, but I think the underlying emotions are recognizable. The main thing I take away from it is the need to remember it's my life I'm living, it's my choices that have gotten me here, I'm in the steerage... and what's more, I kind of like it. I'm the one who's had most to do with forging this life, and I'm the principal player in all that happens next.
Granted, Dryden may be right, when he says misery is more entertaining than most other alternatives. But, frankly, I'm tired of my own whining. Timna may be right as well that others like to catch us at our whiniest. So maybe I won't be getting links for a while. I can suffer it.
No promises, though. But I'm going to make some effort to just enjoy my life. Misery makes us martyrs, leads us to disregard our own best interests in pretending our suffering serves some greater goal. Just think of Zacarias Moussaoui.
It's a cold and grey day here. It's "Cesar Chavez" day, so the entire campus is closed as well. Since I have a building and lab key, it was no problem for me to get in and work. But... I couldn't get lunch anywhere, and didn't think to pack a lunch today. Sorry to say, I didn't know it was CC day! So, I've been subsisting off of dried apricots and a bag of Chex Mix. (Now, why do I feel like a grad student today?)
It feels good to have reached a small milestone. I had a nice chat with the newest member of the faculty here in my host department. He's a couple years younger than me, but quite accomplished. And we share an interest in [InterdisciplinaryField]. As he put it, he's been lucky. And he has. But he's much more published than I. He gave me some ideas that I think I'll take away with me. Mainly he simply reiterated what I wrote a few days ago about publishing. I've got to simply take the attitude that what I have to say (even if it doesn't seem perfect) is worth sending out. I have to trust that it's at least good enough for feedback. And, who knows, maybe some of those articles will be stamped "pending revision."
Most importantly, I simply have to keep on keeping on.
WhatNow? has been writing about some issues that speak to my present experience. The situations are different, but I think the underlying emotions are recognizable. The main thing I take away from it is the need to remember it's my life I'm living, it's my choices that have gotten me here, I'm in the steerage... and what's more, I kind of like it. I'm the one who's had most to do with forging this life, and I'm the principal player in all that happens next.
Granted, Dryden may be right, when he says misery is more entertaining than most other alternatives. But, frankly, I'm tired of my own whining. Timna may be right as well that others like to catch us at our whiniest. So maybe I won't be getting links for a while. I can suffer it.
No promises, though. But I'm going to make some effort to just enjoy my life. Misery makes us martyrs, leads us to disregard our own best interests in pretending our suffering serves some greater goal. Just think of Zacarias Moussaoui.
A new day
Sorry for my self-pity last night. Sometimes I good cry or whine is needed to purge.
As I promised, today is a new day.
This morning, I drafted up and sent off an abstract for the chapter meeting of SOD, which is coming up in the beginning of May. The abstract was on one of my current smaller projects. And it gives me impetus to draw some conclusions. I've also decided this will play a major role in my host department's colloquium presentation in the middle of May.
Then, I've caught up on all my blog feeds. So, I won't have to write comments on five day old posts for a while.
I intend to have a good and productive day, and a wonderful weekend with my family, keeping priorities where they lie.
As I promised, today is a new day.
This morning, I drafted up and sent off an abstract for the chapter meeting of SOD, which is coming up in the beginning of May. The abstract was on one of my current smaller projects. And it gives me impetus to draw some conclusions. I've also decided this will play a major role in my host department's colloquium presentation in the middle of May.
Then, I've caught up on all my blog feeds. So, I won't have to write comments on five day old posts for a while.
I intend to have a good and productive day, and a wonderful weekend with my family, keeping priorities where they lie.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
What's keeping me in this fight?
At times I think it's sheer momentum. There are times when I think half the reason I am still here is what I've always considered a sorry excuse: because I already have so much invested. It's like the current U.S. administration's excuse for continuing headstrong on one failed policy after another.
Am I as guilty as they?
Maybe it's pure selfishness. I'm shocked by the headlines in my news feeds. More bombings every day. Now dozens die in Iran from earthquakes. Tsunamis and Hurricanes.
In the face of that, what's it matter if little ole me is a professor or not? Who cares? Does my plight have any impact on the suffering in the world?
But at the moment, I'm too invested, or too afraid of considering any real alternative. I can't exactly pack up, abandon my family and head to Indonesia for the Peace Corps. To be fair, there are times (often enough) when I believe I have much to contribute in academia, when I know in my heart that I am a good teacher (my student evals, albethey yellowing from age at this point, attest to that), when I'm excited by research, and convinced that my efforts will ease us closer to some hidden domain of knowledge. There are times when I believe, as my Jewish heritage teaches me, that this too, a life dedicated to knowledge, perhaps even above all else, is worthy.
I miss the stage: the applause, yes; but the faces too. I miss looking into the faces in the audience, speaking directly to them, seeing their tears or fears. That's meaningful! That's doing something I can be proud of.
That's the point. We can (I have, I know) justify our lives in myriad ways. It is possible to find value and worth in waiting tables, or gardening, even in changing a diaper. It's just... I'm not sure I can, anymore. I want to be a professor. Damn it, I want that!
Just now I feel embarassed and ashamed. I'm a mere statistic: an unemployed PhD.
Ah. Tomorrow's another day.
Am I as guilty as they?
Maybe it's pure selfishness. I'm shocked by the headlines in my news feeds. More bombings every day. Now dozens die in Iran from earthquakes. Tsunamis and Hurricanes.
In the face of that, what's it matter if little ole me is a professor or not? Who cares? Does my plight have any impact on the suffering in the world?
But at the moment, I'm too invested, or too afraid of considering any real alternative. I can't exactly pack up, abandon my family and head to Indonesia for the Peace Corps. To be fair, there are times (often enough) when I believe I have much to contribute in academia, when I know in my heart that I am a good teacher (my student evals, albethey yellowing from age at this point, attest to that), when I'm excited by research, and convinced that my efforts will ease us closer to some hidden domain of knowledge. There are times when I believe, as my Jewish heritage teaches me, that this too, a life dedicated to knowledge, perhaps even above all else, is worthy.
I miss the stage: the applause, yes; but the faces too. I miss looking into the faces in the audience, speaking directly to them, seeing their tears or fears. That's meaningful! That's doing something I can be proud of.
That's the point. We can (I have, I know) justify our lives in myriad ways. It is possible to find value and worth in waiting tables, or gardening, even in changing a diaper. It's just... I'm not sure I can, anymore. I want to be a professor. Damn it, I want that!
Just now I feel embarassed and ashamed. I'm a mere statistic: an unemployed PhD.
Ah. Tomorrow's another day.
Life's a rollercoaster, and all I want...
All I really want... is to get off and taste the fried dough!
[SIGH]
A bunch of random thoughts. I guess Prof. me is contagious.
I didn't get too upset this afternoon, when the program I was using crashed, and I lost about an hour's worth of work. That's okay. The analysis always goes quicker the second time around.
I've been getting pretty excited about this prospective one-year gig, 1500 miles away. Why? Why should I be pleased over a long shot (aren't they all?) that would be the worst continuing logistical nightmare of my life? Because I really want to get my career started. That's all I can say.
I wrote to a conference friend of mine, who's a prof. at a school less than an hour down the road from there. In response to my general inquiry (which was in part, I admit, just an excuse to be back in touch with him), he wrote:
Maybe this is a good sign though. Usually when I get excited about something, I forget all about the other irons I have in the fire, until I start smelling some smoke. When the smoke comes, it often means something completely unexpected has turned out. None of the three schools who called me for telephone interviews last year were what I expected. Each was quite different from the other: one medium-sized comprehensive state university (where I had the campus interview); one small liberal arts college; a one-year at a major research university.
What do I make of that? Hell, I don't know who'd be interested in me, or why. I can't say why those particular schools called me last year, nor why I've gotten nothing so far this year. But I've got applications out. If it weren't for the records I keep on my computer, I'd have no idea where I've applied. So, who knows? Maybe one of those schools will yet call me up.
I just want to feel a part of the academic community again. I feel like since I filed that diss, and walked across the stage, in my [borrowed] regalia, it's been like severed ties. I'm just this old floor lamp, sitting in the corner, with a frayed power cord, gathering dust.
My wife tires of my ups and downs (as do I). It's frustrating for her, because she realizes there's really nothing she can do. The one thing really lacking in my life is my professional career, about which she has no control. I'm doing everything I can it seems. So, all I can do is wait.
...
...
Have I said it before? I hate waiting!
[SIGH]
A bunch of random thoughts. I guess Prof. me is contagious.
I didn't get too upset this afternoon, when the program I was using crashed, and I lost about an hour's worth of work. That's okay. The analysis always goes quicker the second time around.
I've been getting pretty excited about this prospective one-year gig, 1500 miles away. Why? Why should I be pleased over a long shot (aren't they all?) that would be the worst continuing logistical nightmare of my life? Because I really want to get my career started. That's all I can say.
I wrote to a conference friend of mine, who's a prof. at a school less than an hour down the road from there. In response to my general inquiry (which was in part, I admit, just an excuse to be back in touch with him), he wrote:
Obviously it would fantastic for you to be at [that University] as they have one of the most exciting [field 1] and [interdisciplinary field] groups in Canada.A-yup, I know. That's why I'm excited. But it's just a posting... I haven't even worked up the new syllabus yet, to include with my application. But I've been working on it. Next, my friend went on to write that he anticipates having a post-doc opportunity at his school, that might be appropriate for me. So, there's another possibility.
Maybe this is a good sign though. Usually when I get excited about something, I forget all about the other irons I have in the fire, until I start smelling some smoke. When the smoke comes, it often means something completely unexpected has turned out. None of the three schools who called me for telephone interviews last year were what I expected. Each was quite different from the other: one medium-sized comprehensive state university (where I had the campus interview); one small liberal arts college; a one-year at a major research university.
What do I make of that? Hell, I don't know who'd be interested in me, or why. I can't say why those particular schools called me last year, nor why I've gotten nothing so far this year. But I've got applications out. If it weren't for the records I keep on my computer, I'd have no idea where I've applied. So, who knows? Maybe one of those schools will yet call me up.
I just want to feel a part of the academic community again. I feel like since I filed that diss, and walked across the stage, in my [borrowed] regalia, it's been like severed ties. I'm just this old floor lamp, sitting in the corner, with a frayed power cord, gathering dust.
My wife tires of my ups and downs (as do I). It's frustrating for her, because she realizes there's really nothing she can do. The one thing really lacking in my life is my professional career, about which she has no control. I'm doing everything I can it seems. So, all I can do is wait.
...
...
Have I said it before? I hate waiting!
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Convergences
I'm not a religious person. Not superstitious either. But I've come to appreciate what I call convergences in life. A convergence is when something comes up again and again, from different angles.
When I was younger, my mother bought the oddest little car, an AMC Pacer. Suddenly I noticed them everywhere. Of course, that mostly reflected my own perception of the world. We're always best attuned to hearing our own name spoken over a noisy and distorted loudspeaker at a train station or doctor's office. So a convergence may mostly be one's own awareness of the world in particular ways. For me, being able to pick out connections to the same object (the "all roads lead to Rome" phenomenon) is a good sign that I'm on the right path.
This happened for me as my research focus emerged over the past decade. The more I read about disparate things that interested me, the more they seemed alike, the more connections I could draw. That's where my interdisciplinarity derives from. Sometimes however, these convergences emerge in more mysterious ways.
Yesterday, I mentioned a one-year job I'll probably apply for that would be a tough commute. This morning, while [obsessively] checking my webstats, I noticed one hit on my personal research website from the very city in Canada where that school is! Hmmm. I haven't even applied there yet. So, I looked more closely. The click (to the web-version of my CV by the way) was based on a Google search for one of my references. My PRW was the top page result. Sweet!
They say in advertising and politics, name recognition is king. So...
When I was younger, my mother bought the oddest little car, an AMC Pacer. Suddenly I noticed them everywhere. Of course, that mostly reflected my own perception of the world. We're always best attuned to hearing our own name spoken over a noisy and distorted loudspeaker at a train station or doctor's office. So a convergence may mostly be one's own awareness of the world in particular ways. For me, being able to pick out connections to the same object (the "all roads lead to Rome" phenomenon) is a good sign that I'm on the right path.
This happened for me as my research focus emerged over the past decade. The more I read about disparate things that interested me, the more they seemed alike, the more connections I could draw. That's where my interdisciplinarity derives from. Sometimes however, these convergences emerge in more mysterious ways.
Yesterday, I mentioned a one-year job I'll probably apply for that would be a tough commute. This morning, while [obsessively] checking my webstats, I noticed one hit on my personal research website from the very city in Canada where that school is! Hmmm. I haven't even applied there yet. So, I looked more closely. The click (to the web-version of my CV by the way) was based on a Google search for one of my references. My PRW was the top page result. Sweet!
They say in advertising and politics, name recognition is king. So...
in your face, folks... this is me, I'm here, oh... and by the way, got any jobs?More posts keep coming up. Mostly one-year gigs. But that's okay. I just want a jump start now. I can buy a new battery down the road. I just want to hear that engine purr.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Chinese Fortune Cookie
Ahh, if only there were an intelligence behind this!
Lunchtime the boys and I had lunch with my wife. We had a makeup gymnastics class for The Painter in the vicinity of her work and the timing was right. We had Chinese buffet. Pretty good. Here was my fortune:
Lunchtime the boys and I had lunch with my wife. We had a makeup gymnastics class for The Painter in the vicinity of her work and the timing was right. We had Chinese buffet. Pretty good. Here was my fortune:
Your skills and talents will be called on in unusual areas.Somebody, make a believer out of me!
Citation formats
Okay, here's a quick question for all you other interdisciplinary types: How do you deal with citations? I mean... okay, here's my problem, journals that I read, have, or might submit to require entirely different formats for citations. On my shelf, among other things, I have:
Remember last month, when I was preparing that dissertation distillation article? I spent about three days simply reformatting the thing (mostly footnotes to endnotes, and changing citation formats). Alright, this is one of the banes of interdisciplinarity. In order to talk to different audiences, you have to learn to speak their language. Sometimes I wish someone would just write up a script that would automatically change citations into various formats.
That doesn't quite handle the issue entirely though, since as I pointed out during that reformatting process just mentioned, some of the reformatting meant rethinking whether something should be an inline citation or a footnote, or perhaps just remade into main text, with or without a citation. No program is going to replace those thought processes. But it could help.
How nice it would be to enter information into fields, then select the formatting from a drop-down list [Chicago;footnote] style please, and brrrling There you go!
- Publication Manual of the American Psychological Association
- Chicago Manual of Style
- A Manual for Writers... by Kate L. Turabian
- one of the Longman's A short guide to writing about _____
Remember last month, when I was preparing that dissertation distillation article? I spent about three days simply reformatting the thing (mostly footnotes to endnotes, and changing citation formats). Alright, this is one of the banes of interdisciplinarity. In order to talk to different audiences, you have to learn to speak their language. Sometimes I wish someone would just write up a script that would automatically change citations into various formats.
That doesn't quite handle the issue entirely though, since as I pointed out during that reformatting process just mentioned, some of the reformatting meant rethinking whether something should be an inline citation or a footnote, or perhaps just remade into main text, with or without a citation. No program is going to replace those thought processes. But it could help.
How nice it would be to enter information into fields, then select the formatting from a drop-down list [Chicago;footnote] style please, and brrrling There you go!
A tough commute
Okay, here's the scenario. I saw a posting for a one-year gig on the opposite coast, in fact north of the border as well, in Canada. About an hour after I saw the posting (from a listserv of SOD) Dr. TassePlein forwarded it to me with the annotation: Did you see this?.
It's nice that he's taking a more active interest in my career. I've come to understand that he really is committed to my success. So, I looked it over. Granted, let's be straight, this is just a posting, which is a far cry from an offer, even an interview. But, the question is: do I make the effort to apply? There is a top researcher from one area of my tiny little niche who teaches there, but in a different department. And it's a good school.
The gig would be to teach six half year courses. They're asking for a full application (more than most, but not everything):
The flights would run about $500-600 round trip; I'd be earning somewhere in the range of US$45k. So, for a 30-week contract, I'd spend about a third of my gross on flights. If I just rented a room somewhere there, I could probably keep my housing costs to a minimum. I'd expect to live on campus while I was there, just showering and sleeping at home (maybe dinner and breakfasts too). My general rule is that I don't want to take a one-year that will eat up more than half my earnings in the commute and housing.
The real issue here is how much sacrifice is reasonable for jump starting the career? I'm willing to do a lot... but is this too much? I have made an effort not to unduly limit my geographic region. I've mostly just avoided small schools that are in out of the way places, since the task is to find an area where both the wife and I can have careers, which wouldn't happen in that sort of place.
Any thoughts?
It's nice that he's taking a more active interest in my career. I've come to understand that he really is committed to my success. So, I looked it over. Granted, let's be straight, this is just a posting, which is a far cry from an offer, even an interview. But, the question is: do I make the effort to apply? There is a top researcher from one area of my tiny little niche who teaches there, but in a different department. And it's a good school.
The gig would be to teach six half year courses. They're asking for a full application (more than most, but not everything):
- a letter of interest
- a detailed curriculum vitae
- a statement of teaching philosophy and practice
- a syllabus
- and the names and complete contact information for three referees
The flights would run about $500-600 round trip; I'd be earning somewhere in the range of US$45k. So, for a 30-week contract, I'd spend about a third of my gross on flights. If I just rented a room somewhere there, I could probably keep my housing costs to a minimum. I'd expect to live on campus while I was there, just showering and sleeping at home (maybe dinner and breakfasts too). My general rule is that I don't want to take a one-year that will eat up more than half my earnings in the commute and housing.
The real issue here is how much sacrifice is reasonable for jump starting the career? I'm willing to do a lot... but is this too much? I have made an effort not to unduly limit my geographic region. I've mostly just avoided small schools that are in out of the way places, since the task is to find an area where both the wife and I can have careers, which wouldn't happen in that sort of place.
Any thoughts?
Monday, March 27, 2006
Cruel anticipation
My Vonage service sends me an email every time I get a new voice mail, with the calling phone number in the message. Wow, I thought, I don't recognize that area code; could be a school calling to interview me. Hmmm... 10 second message, looks good. Brief, and to the point... My heart starts pounding in anticipation. I open up the vonage voice mail screen, and click on the message, expecting something like:
Hello, Dr. ______, this is _____ calling you from the University of ______, on behalf of the _____ search committee. Please give us a call at ###-###-#### at your convenience. We're looking forward to hearing from you.Instead, I got
Hello, this is your Arrowhead water service, calling to remind you that your local delivery-person will be in your area tomorrow for your regularly scheduled delivery. If you would like to make any changes to your order, please leave a note with your empties. Thank you for using Arrowhead...[aaarrrggh!] [SIGH] Ah well, back to the drawing board.
What'll I think in 30 years?
Not much to write here these days, I admit. I've been working. Had a great weekend with the family... hence the silence on the weekend. I've been on campus today, plugging away. Analysis: it's always quite consuming, since it requires a great deal of concentration. The departmental computer lab here on campus (where I work) is relatively quiet. It's spring break, so only the stalwarts (or holdouts, depending) are here, but mostly working, not gossipping. I contribute as much to talking now, but we're all pretty good at letting each other work.
I've been reflecting a bit lately on how several senior (or retired) scholars I know speak almost without exception with a bit of embarassment about their earliest publications. Naive is the word I most often hear them say about some article they penned thirty or forty years ago. And, I've realized the important part in this is not that they are ashamed of what they wrote at the beginning of their careers, but rather that they had long, distinguished careers despite of (or perhaps because of) their willingness to just get out there and say something.
In my worrying about not sounding like an idiot, or thinking of all possibilities or confounds to my arguments, I've been holding myself back from just testing the waters of an idea. Perhaps the main difference between potential and accomplishment is simply writing a conclusion, being willing to draw some circle around a collection of thoughts, and accepting that thirty years from now I'll most likely think it naive.
So, I've been excited by some smaller projects, short, not too ambitious, but different and quirky in my own way, forcing cross-disciplinary conversations, and making them seem inevitable. I've got two of these underway, and a third (which has been mulling around my mind for years) will be the next one. Each of them is fun, and likely more appealing (at least more accessible) to a broad audience than some of my BIG projects. They'll be good as conference papers, or invited lectures, or articles. I'm just going to do it, and get them done. Find a conclusion, and draft it up. And if the ideas are rejected from conferences, or journals, then I can work on them some more. But, I'm feeling pretty good about this right now. I think they'll fly.
I've been reflecting a bit lately on how several senior (or retired) scholars I know speak almost without exception with a bit of embarassment about their earliest publications. Naive is the word I most often hear them say about some article they penned thirty or forty years ago. And, I've realized the important part in this is not that they are ashamed of what they wrote at the beginning of their careers, but rather that they had long, distinguished careers despite of (or perhaps because of) their willingness to just get out there and say something.
In my worrying about not sounding like an idiot, or thinking of all possibilities or confounds to my arguments, I've been holding myself back from just testing the waters of an idea. Perhaps the main difference between potential and accomplishment is simply writing a conclusion, being willing to draw some circle around a collection of thoughts, and accepting that thirty years from now I'll most likely think it naive.
So, I've been excited by some smaller projects, short, not too ambitious, but different and quirky in my own way, forcing cross-disciplinary conversations, and making them seem inevitable. I've got two of these underway, and a third (which has been mulling around my mind for years) will be the next one. Each of them is fun, and likely more appealing (at least more accessible) to a broad audience than some of my BIG projects. They'll be good as conference papers, or invited lectures, or articles. I'm just going to do it, and get them done. Find a conclusion, and draft it up. And if the ideas are rejected from conferences, or journals, then I can work on them some more. But, I'm feeling pretty good about this right now. I think they'll fly.
Tsotsi
The wife and I saw the movie Tsotsi during our weekly date over the weekend. It's an import from South Africa, based on the 1989 novel of the same name by Athol Fugard. We had seen a play by Fugard a few months ago, Exits and Entrances, which was good, so we thought this worth a try.
I think it's a fine movie. Sort of a Pulp Fiction without the glorification of violence. I hated PF. I found the main characters despicable, and while they were painted as sympathetic, I had no desire to sympathize with them. I felt dirty leaving the theater. With Tsotsi, you have an equally despicable main character, yet he's humanly complex. You sympathize with him, not because he's funny or quirky as in PF, but because he's human, because you come to believe redemption is really possible for him, or you lament that it may not come.
I recommend it, if you can find it anywhere!
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Pancakes
No, really, this post is about pancakes. I tried an experiment this morning, and it turned out well, so here's the recipe:
Oatmeal-Apple-Raisin pancakes
Ingredients
1 cup flour
1/2 cup dry rolled oats
1/4 cup raisins
1/4 cup apple sauce
1 cup (or so) milk
1 egg
1 tbs brown sugar
2 tsp baking powder
dash of cinnamon
Directions
Mix dry ingredients well, making sure the brown sugar is mixed in. Make a well in the middle, whisk up the egg. Add the apple sauce. Mix. Slowly add the 1 cup of the milk, while stirring. Add more to obtain proper consistency.
Stir as you pour or dip the batter, since the raisins and oatmeal may drop toward the bottom. Cook in a small quantity of butter or oil over medium heat. Flip pancakes when the popped bubbles remain open. Cook second side until lightly browned.
Oatmeal-Apple-Raisin pancakes
Ingredients
1 cup flour
1/2 cup dry rolled oats
1/4 cup raisins
1/4 cup apple sauce
1 cup (or so) milk
1 egg
1 tbs brown sugar
2 tsp baking powder
dash of cinnamon
Directions
Mix dry ingredients well, making sure the brown sugar is mixed in. Make a well in the middle, whisk up the egg. Add the apple sauce. Mix. Slowly add the 1 cup of the milk, while stirring. Add more to obtain proper consistency.
Stir as you pour or dip the batter, since the raisins and oatmeal may drop toward the bottom. Cook in a small quantity of butter or oil over medium heat. Flip pancakes when the popped bubbles remain open. Cook second side until lightly browned.
Friday, March 24, 2006
Work is good
Work is good,
work is fun.
I like working,
everyone.
Ha, ha. A little bit of doggerel for you, a la St. Vincent Millay. It feels good to be working. As Professor Zero put it recently (in a comment to an old post):
Part of me has been too worried about fitting in. Isn't that always the big question: finding the best fit. Yet, trying to fit a round me into a square hole just won't cut it. Really, I've been trying to say hey, I'm round... but I can also be square, see. And, I guess, noone's been buying. While I might prefer the badge of having a professorship right now, so I could no longer suffer the awkwardness of trying to explain to the inlaws that I'm not unemployed by any fault of my own, it's simply out of my hands. I'm trying to keep that three year plan in mind, making it ever more difficult for search committees to ignore me. I've got to do that in a way that keeps me excited.
As you may have guessed by now, I'm not likely to convince anyone that I'm TimidScholar. In any case, I don't feel like making the effort. At the risk of unduly dismissing Dr. TassePlein's advice on this count, I've got to be me. I think I'm more likely to succeed by enhancing my visibility than by appearing needy. I've sometimes given the advice to cultivate naivety. It's this approach that has allowed me to act as if in the past, and to succeed where perhaps I should have failed. I simply didn't know any better. I simply was unaware that what I was attempting was impossible. So, back to work it is.
.... nah, nah, nah... I'm not listening...
work is fun.
I like working,
everyone.
Ha, ha. A little bit of doggerel for you, a la St. Vincent Millay. It feels good to be working. As Professor Zero put it recently (in a comment to an old post):
it's time to define your next research project in *your* terms. Being sure you're working on something you can be enthusiastic about makes you an attractive job candidate, believe it or not.Oddly enough, today, I'm not so concerned about my attractiveness on the job front. Maybe I'm resigned to the likelihood that I will remain professionally unattached for another year, so I might as well make the most of it. I'm just doing my thing, and enjoying it. All I can say here is that it's got something to do with Louis Armstrong, and I'm diggin' it. As I'm beginning to accept, despite the uncertainties of my current state, and the discomfort of my status, I'm really in a good place to just enjoy my work.
Part of me has been too worried about fitting in. Isn't that always the big question: finding the best fit. Yet, trying to fit a round me into a square hole just won't cut it. Really, I've been trying to say hey, I'm round... but I can also be square, see. And, I guess, noone's been buying. While I might prefer the badge of having a professorship right now, so I could no longer suffer the awkwardness of trying to explain to the inlaws that I'm not unemployed by any fault of my own, it's simply out of my hands. I'm trying to keep that three year plan in mind, making it ever more difficult for search committees to ignore me. I've got to do that in a way that keeps me excited.
As you may have guessed by now, I'm not likely to convince anyone that I'm TimidScholar. In any case, I don't feel like making the effort. At the risk of unduly dismissing Dr. TassePlein's advice on this count, I've got to be me. I think I'm more likely to succeed by enhancing my visibility than by appearing needy. I've sometimes given the advice to cultivate naivety. It's this approach that has allowed me to act as if in the past, and to succeed where perhaps I should have failed. I simply didn't know any better. I simply was unaware that what I was attempting was impossible. So, back to work it is.
.... nah, nah, nah... I'm not listening...
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Me, with nothing to say?
Gah! I just read the post over at ABD Anonymous about heading out into a wilderness of dissertatiana without a map, no street signs, and the sky is ominously overcast (okay, those are my words, not hers). And I want desperately to have something pithy, enlightening, amusing, reasonable, tolerably sensient... to say. But... duh... um... uh... I'm speechless. Go ahead, smirk, Professor Me, sometimes I am at a loss for words.
I feel the same way reading over Brightstar's posting about relationships, and Dryden's from a while back, and I feel like I ought to have something to say... I've been happily married for 8-1/2 years now. But, nope, nada, nothing. It's not that there is nothing to say. I guess ... hmmm...
You know I try not to dive into things halfway. Maybe it's simply that I believe the issues raised in these posts require more energy than I'm willing or able to muster at the moment... and so, I say nothing, rather than say something insufficient.
I fear I'm that way too often. I think I can be that way when it comes to articles and conference papers. I was that way for a long time with the dissertation. My wife kept asking me when I was going to stop reading, and just start writing. And I said I didn't know. There was always something else I had to follow up on, some other angle I had to pursue. But, then, bang, I hit the point when it was time, time to stop reading, time to cut the loose ends and let them fall. It was finally time to recognize I wasn't going to cover every possible avenue.
I guess it's like drawing a map. If you want it to be perfect, you might spend so much time on it, that everything from the beginning has already changed by the time you reach the end. That's why conventional wisdom says a finished dissertation trumps the best one any day. So too it must be with so many other things in life.
I've written recently about feeling all potential, and wanting more achievement. Getting there it would seem requires me letting go of the desire to get everything right. It's okay to make mistakes and stumble, even in public. It's from those mis-steps perhaps that we grow the most. So... here's to tripping up a bit, and enjoying it. Dryden, will you drink with me?
I feel the same way reading over Brightstar's posting about relationships, and Dryden's from a while back, and I feel like I ought to have something to say... I've been happily married for 8-1/2 years now. But, nope, nada, nothing. It's not that there is nothing to say. I guess ... hmmm...
You know I try not to dive into things halfway. Maybe it's simply that I believe the issues raised in these posts require more energy than I'm willing or able to muster at the moment... and so, I say nothing, rather than say something insufficient.
I fear I'm that way too often. I think I can be that way when it comes to articles and conference papers. I was that way for a long time with the dissertation. My wife kept asking me when I was going to stop reading, and just start writing. And I said I didn't know. There was always something else I had to follow up on, some other angle I had to pursue. But, then, bang, I hit the point when it was time, time to stop reading, time to cut the loose ends and let them fall. It was finally time to recognize I wasn't going to cover every possible avenue.
I guess it's like drawing a map. If you want it to be perfect, you might spend so much time on it, that everything from the beginning has already changed by the time you reach the end. That's why conventional wisdom says a finished dissertation trumps the best one any day. So too it must be with so many other things in life.
I've written recently about feeling all potential, and wanting more achievement. Getting there it would seem requires me letting go of the desire to get everything right. It's okay to make mistakes and stumble, even in public. It's from those mis-steps perhaps that we grow the most. So... here's to tripping up a bit, and enjoying it. Dryden, will you drink with me?
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