Something Shiny! - Research category

Wheel of fire

Wed, 27 Aug 2008 13:44:34 GMT

I realized last night that a dissertation is a lot like the One Ring, the ring of power from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. Bear with me for a minute. At the beginning of the trilogy, the ring of power hasn't quite taken a hold of Frodo yet. He's near it constantly and yet he's separate from it, still his own person. But as the story goes on, his life becomes inseparable from that of the ring. He cannot wear it without enduring physical and psychological pain, nor without seeing the burning eye of the Dark Lord. The ring itself gradually takes power over him. It becomes heavier and heavier to bear. In the third book, as Frodo's strength has been sapped by the ring, he says to his friend Sam, "there is no veil between me and the wheel of fire. I begin to see it even with my waking eyes, and all else fades." It's the same with a dissertation, really. Like the ring, a dissertation is with you at all times. In the beginning, as you're just getting underway, you're free to think about other things. Thoughts of your dissertation don't grip you at all hours. But as time goes on, and you get deeper and deeper into the process, you find that you can no longer give your full attention to other things. You eat, sleep, and breathe your dissertation. And suddenly, your life is no longer your own. The dissertation of power has taken hold. (Though, admittedly, I'm not sure what to do with the metaphor when it comes to casting the ring into the fires of Mount Doom, to be destroyed. I guess it depends on how good or bad the dissertation is? Or maybe the dissertation defense is Mount Doom? Hard to say.) I suppose the only thing to do is to continue on, chipping away at deadlines and goals, until the project is finished. Hopefully there'll be a job waiting on the other end of the dissertation of power, but I'll come up with a metaphor for that when the time comes.

Mad Skillz

Thu, 14 Aug 2008 15:39:05 GMT

There are days, man, there are days when I yearn (YEARN!) for an 8 to 5 job. Days when the sheer enormity of my dissertation comes crushing down on me like a pile of bricks, days when the project seems so profoundly undoable, days when I want nothing more than the ability to go to work and not care about my job. What's that? You say that those types of jobs only pay $25,000 a year? Sign me up, yo, 'cause that would be a pay RAISE. And then, once these thoughts are firmly entrenched, I remind myself that I had such a job. And I hated every second of it, felt myself getting stupider while I had it, and resented the jackasses charming people for whom I toiled. It also helps if I remember the time that one of my bosses walked all the way across the office, straight past the photocopier, to demand that I photocopy one single-sided page for her. Or the time that my manager, while wearing orthopedic shoes, criticized my own footwear. Or the time that another one of my bosses instructed me never to open her mail, then later demanded to know why I hadn't opened her mail. Inevitably, after I've reminded myself of this, I sigh and remember why I went to graduate school in the first place.

Could we do it? Would we want to?

Fri, 15 Feb 2008 14:38:22 GMT

I met with a faculty member last week to talk about my research and while we were talking, she mentioned that a prominent institute in Berlin does a lot of work in my field and that they offer postdocs, from 1-3 years. My first thought was that we'd never do that. In a million years, I couldn't imagine uprooting us AGAIN, to move overseas. When I told John about it, that seemed to be his thought as well. But then the idea started worming its way around in our heads, and settled in for a stay. We talked about it some more the next day. Could we do it? Could we live in Berlin? John would be able to get a job there, relatively easily. There's the language barrier, of course, but that's not insurmountable. So maybe we could do it. Would we want to? We're pretty far away from our families and friends now-- Berlin, clearly, would be an even greater distance. Would we be able to live an ocean away from everything we know and love? The scaredy-cat side of me wants to hide under the covers, just thinking about it. But the other side of me-- the side that decided to go to graduate school so far away in the first place-- knows that it would be the chance of a lifetime. And it would open up doors to a really good job once we came back. And, hey, it would be a limited engagement-- only 1-3 years. Could we do it? Would we want to?

Crazy busy

Tue, 25 Sep 2007 15:16:51 GMT

I have thirty-two messages on my machine. Messages from good, friendly people whose calls I really need to return. But the honest truth is that I've been so crazy busy lately, there just isn't enough time. I've been meaning to call my brother back for, oh, about a week now. Yeah, in fact, tomorrow will be a week from the time I said, "I'm running out the door-- can I call you back?". All of which is to say that if I haven't called, it's not because I don't want to talk to you. It's because I'm buried under lectures about Progressivism and grant applications that really ought to say "please give me your cash."

June Cleaver I am not, and yet...

Fri, 17 Aug 2007 03:36:23 GMT

I've blogged before about my love affair with laundry and all things domestic, but only recently have I pieced together why these strong, Martha-esque phases crop up periodically. Because it's not that they're an ever-present yearning; rather, they only seem to materialize when I've been doing intense brainy activities to the exclusion of everything else. Case in point: I've been in the Library of Congress all week, doing dissertation research, and dammit if my brain isn't teeming with information about things like scrofula, dropsy, St. Vitus' Dance, and more. About midway through the week, I started desperately looking forward to being home and doing laundry, vacuuming the house, and going grocery shopping. We'll be home tomorrow, which I know is soon enough, but it can't come fast enough for me. People, there's baking to be done!

Workin' at the car wash...

Mon, 25 Jun 2007 12:23:09 GMT

I wrote this post a week ago today, on my first day of research at the LOC. I'm posting it now because, well, internet access at our B&B? Not so good.

I'm at the Library of Congress this week, doing research for my dissertation. Right now I'm in the Jefferson building's Main Reading Room and it's both gorgeous and intimidating. I put in a request for a book over an hour ago and haven't seen it yet. So, I've developed a new strategy: rather than requesting books in drips and drabs, I've turned in an assload of requests all at once, and hopefully they'll be waiting for me when I get back from lunch. Luckily, the Main Reading Room is open until 9:30 at night, so I can stay late if need be. One unrelated observation: there's a gallery that looks down from above the huge Main Reading Room, and LOC docents bring tourists up to the gallery in small groups throughout the day. I'm sure it's fascinating to be a tourist looking down from that vantage point, but to be a researcher on the main floor, it feel sort of like you're being studied.

Emily, ABD

Wed, 09 May 2007 18:36:43 GMT

Huzzah! I successfully defended my dissertation prospectus just a few short hours ago. I am now officially ABD. How cool is that?!?