Sunday, April 25, 2010
April 2010 Conferences: 1 Down, 1 To Go
I was not originally planning to be heavily involved with official events back at Old Ivy this year. After all, what with the hour-long commute between campus and my apartment, it isn't necessarily the most practical thing. Nonetheless, when my adviser approached me at the end of last semester to ask if I wanted to organize our annual workshop on the history of the physical sciences, I agreed.
Why?
Well, given the topic of my dissertation, I would probably be participating anyway. Furthermore, few of my colleagues with similarly relevant research interests who were in town and not gallivanting about in various overseas archives were in a better position to take on the task. Either they had qualifying examinations or other professional commitments which would inconvenience them to an even greater degree.
I also figured that it would be worthwhile to gain some experience figuring out how to run a conference, and while that turned out to be true, it also proved slightly more frustrating than I initially hoped. To be clear, I learned a great deal. For example, I learned that you can't trust graduate students to turn in papers by a given submission deadline. I also learned that finding volunteers to house visiting speakers is a challenge roughly equivalent to performing oral surgery on a caffeinated hippopotamus. And, of course, I learned that despite possessing the single greatest footnote I have ever written, my research project still needs work.
But on the whole, the positive aspects outweighed the negative ones. The opening night dinner went off without a hitch, as students from four different schools convened over Indian food to share news and gossip about their respective programs. The papers were of uniformly high quality with a pretty even mix of topics, ranging from the history of various scientific journals and correspondence networks to the histories of chemistry and physics during the 18th, 19th, and 20th centuries. Plus, I learned that I have a talent for leading workshop discussions and maintaining a close adherence to a schedule, something which isn't always easy when academics are involved. And although it was flawed, my adviser hinted that my research project might one day serve as the foundation for a solid article.
So in the end, I think it was a net success, I'm still glad it's all done. By the end of this week I had made the drive between home and campus more than half a dozen times and lost a lot of time which I should have spent on my actual dissertation arranging logistics. As I mentioned in my previous post, I still have another conference paper to present this month. Once that's squared away, it's back to my dissertation, which is, as the saying goes, already in progress.
But of course you know that already.
(0) comments
I was not originally planning to be heavily involved with official events back at Old Ivy this year. After all, what with the hour-long commute between campus and my apartment, it isn't necessarily the most practical thing. Nonetheless, when my adviser approached me at the end of last semester to ask if I wanted to organize our annual workshop on the history of the physical sciences, I agreed.
Why?
Well, given the topic of my dissertation, I would probably be participating anyway. Furthermore, few of my colleagues with similarly relevant research interests who were in town and not gallivanting about in various overseas archives were in a better position to take on the task. Either they had qualifying examinations or other professional commitments which would inconvenience them to an even greater degree.
I also figured that it would be worthwhile to gain some experience figuring out how to run a conference, and while that turned out to be true, it also proved slightly more frustrating than I initially hoped. To be clear, I learned a great deal. For example, I learned that you can't trust graduate students to turn in papers by a given submission deadline. I also learned that finding volunteers to house visiting speakers is a challenge roughly equivalent to performing oral surgery on a caffeinated hippopotamus. And, of course, I learned that despite possessing the single greatest footnote I have ever written, my research project still needs work.
But on the whole, the positive aspects outweighed the negative ones. The opening night dinner went off without a hitch, as students from four different schools convened over Indian food to share news and gossip about their respective programs. The papers were of uniformly high quality with a pretty even mix of topics, ranging from the history of various scientific journals and correspondence networks to the histories of chemistry and physics during the 18th, 19th, and 20th centuries. Plus, I learned that I have a talent for leading workshop discussions and maintaining a close adherence to a schedule, something which isn't always easy when academics are involved. And although it was flawed, my adviser hinted that my research project might one day serve as the foundation for a solid article.
So in the end, I think it was a net success, I'm still glad it's all done. By the end of this week I had made the drive between home and campus more than half a dozen times and lost a lot of time which I should have spent on my actual dissertation arranging logistics. As I mentioned in my previous post, I still have another conference paper to present this month. Once that's squared away, it's back to my dissertation, which is, as the saying goes, already in progress.
But of course you know that already.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Productive Procrastination?
Hard as it may be to believe it has been several weeks since I did any productive research on my latest dissertation chapter. My previous blog entries may have led you to believe that finishing my thesis was the equivalent of Ahab landing that white whale he hated so much, or if you prefer your references somewhat less high-brow, like Khan leaving Kirk marooned for all eternity in the center of a dead planet...buried alive. (buried alive!) And in the long run, that remains true.
The problem is that all of these things keep popping up in the short run, diverting me from my quest. Now, these aren't necessarily "fun" things, per se. With only a few exceptions, they involve academic and/or professional development. But the problem is that they all piled up at once.
For example, within the next two weeks I'll be presenting papers at two conferences (one of which will also be largely organized by yours truly), finalizing a brief magazine article, and conducting a long-distance oral history interview. Add to that a dentist appointment, a workshop intended to teach me how to refine a statement of teaching philosophy, and, in a well-deserved concession to my sanity, a pub quiz to host, and well, the end of April suddenly got a whole lot busier.
But that's not all! Because even before this week, I abruptly found myself in a position I did not expect to be in for several months...applying for a job. With only two chapters (Approx. 40%) of my dissertation written, I assumed that I would need to wait until next year to even start looking at the market. That was before an announcement came up that a well-known museum was looking to hire a historian of technology, specifically one with an interest in the history of American innovation. And what's more, although I missed it the first time through, they didn't require applicants to have a Ph.D. in hand! Once I realized that last point, it was a no-brainer to throw my hat in the ring. Most likely, I won't get the job, but if a similar opening comes up in the future, they'll have my information on file.
The sole downside of all these projects is lost time. I never thought I'd say this, but I miss my dissertation, or at least the illusion of progress that came from working upon it. Right now, it feels like I'm spinning my wheels. With my fellowship here in the city winding down in May, I sincerely hope that I'll be able to get back on track and finish this next chapter before I have to start planning for this summer's move back north to Old Ivy.
Right now, though, there's too much other work to be done. I'll catch you on the other side.\
Addendum: In the interest of honesty, it hasn't been all work and no play. In fact, due to weird set of coincidences, I've also had the chance recently to spend time with two of my good friends from back in my undergraduate days: the first a girl who rarely misses much, the second a well-respected Latinologist. In both cases, I sincerely hope that the next time we cross paths won't be too far in the future.
(0) comments
Hard as it may be to believe it has been several weeks since I did any productive research on my latest dissertation chapter. My previous blog entries may have led you to believe that finishing my thesis was the equivalent of Ahab landing that white whale he hated so much, or if you prefer your references somewhat less high-brow, like Khan leaving Kirk marooned for all eternity in the center of a dead planet...buried alive. (buried alive!) And in the long run, that remains true.
The problem is that all of these things keep popping up in the short run, diverting me from my quest. Now, these aren't necessarily "fun" things, per se. With only a few exceptions, they involve academic and/or professional development. But the problem is that they all piled up at once.
For example, within the next two weeks I'll be presenting papers at two conferences (one of which will also be largely organized by yours truly), finalizing a brief magazine article, and conducting a long-distance oral history interview. Add to that a dentist appointment, a workshop intended to teach me how to refine a statement of teaching philosophy, and, in a well-deserved concession to my sanity, a pub quiz to host, and well, the end of April suddenly got a whole lot busier.
But that's not all! Because even before this week, I abruptly found myself in a position I did not expect to be in for several months...applying for a job. With only two chapters (Approx. 40%) of my dissertation written, I assumed that I would need to wait until next year to even start looking at the market. That was before an announcement came up that a well-known museum was looking to hire a historian of technology, specifically one with an interest in the history of American innovation. And what's more, although I missed it the first time through, they didn't require applicants to have a Ph.D. in hand! Once I realized that last point, it was a no-brainer to throw my hat in the ring. Most likely, I won't get the job, but if a similar opening comes up in the future, they'll have my information on file.
The sole downside of all these projects is lost time. I never thought I'd say this, but I miss my dissertation, or at least the illusion of progress that came from working upon it. Right now, it feels like I'm spinning my wheels. With my fellowship here in the city winding down in May, I sincerely hope that I'll be able to get back on track and finish this next chapter before I have to start planning for this summer's move back north to Old Ivy.
Right now, though, there's too much other work to be done. I'll catch you on the other side.\
Addendum: In the interest of honesty, it hasn't been all work and no play. In fact, due to weird set of coincidences, I've also had the chance recently to spend time with two of my good friends from back in my undergraduate days: the first a girl who rarely misses much, the second a well-respected Latinologist. In both cases, I sincerely hope that the next time we cross paths won't be too far in the future.
Sunday, April 04, 2010
What Little I Know
Happy Passover, readers! This weekend, my extended family gathered for its annual family reunion/seder here in the city. It's a decades-old tradition, and for most of that time, I considered myself a member of the youngest of the three generations who attended. The same generations were present this time around. On the far end of the table sat my grandfather and his two sisters, both in wheelchairs. Scattered around the table was my father, his cousins, and their associated spouses. And then there were the grandchildren, including yours truly, by now a far cry from the four year old who wriggled his way uncomfortably through the four questions.
But now for the first time, there was a fourth group noticeably present: the great-grandchildren. Yes, several of my second cousins have had children, and although these new additions to the family have been present for the past several years, they were not particularly active participants. But this year, they were up and about, turning cartwheels and being adorable. They were justifiably the center of attention, even distracting us from the terrible quality of the overcooked bricks of meat served up under the name of "brisket."
As I looked on from the sidelines, one of my father's cousins observed that I was like that once. He was right, of course, and I responded that we all were once. But as I watched from the sidelines last night, I felt the passage of time more sharply than before. Somehow, when I wasn't looking, the boundaries between generations shifted and we grew up. My sister is a month and a half away from graduating medical school and moving out to the midwest to start a residency. I'm in the midst of writing a dissertation. Even the youngest members of my age cohort is now an undergraduate. When did this happen? I don't remember...
Passover is supposed to be about answering questions. Why is this night different from all other nights? Why do we eat matzah instead of leavened bread? Why do we eat while reclining? Yet as I sat around the table, I found that I had more questions than answers. My cousins asked about my research. After giving my standard response, they followed up with questions about the originality of my claims and the overall arc of my argument. Though I'm relatively certain that the history I am writing is unique, at this point, I have not gone beyond formulating arguments for the individual chapters, and therefore found myself stammering, grasping at straws to figure out the broader significance of an as yet unfinished thesis. This is the subject that has consumed my life for the better part of two years and still my ignorance outweighs my knowledge. And that in turn raises new concerns. Do I know what I'm doing or am I just faking it? Could I work even harder? What mistakes have I made and which are still capable of being fixed? In each case, the answer eludes me.
The irony, of course, is that when I was younger, I had a knack for being the one among my friends who had the answers. Whether making plans for a Friday night out, working on a take home exam, or playing on a quiz team, I could pride myself on having the answers. Now it seems that I am ill-suited to my old role. The dynamics are changing and my old friends are in new places, places that render my old sense of understanding less complete. This weekend, two of my friends announced that major changes were in store in their lives. One is having a child. Another is joining the National Guard. In two months, a third will be getting married. None of this is entirely unprecedented, but for some reason coming all at once it feels as though I'm standing still, clinging to the last vestiges of my past and watching as it gets pulled away by the inevitable passage of time. What does the future hold? Where will we all end up? Will all of us find someone? Obviously, these are the types of questions whose answers no one can ever know, and intellectually I know that to be the case. My gut rankles against the idea of a riddle that can't be solved, but there's nothing to be done.
In the end, I do not wish for time to stand still. There is something of a natural order to life and, as the saying goes, a time to set aside childish things. But even if I do eventually reconcile myself to the uncertainty of the future, I would feel better knowing that some of those questions had clear cut answers. And even moreso knowing that no matter how little I know, things will end up for the best.
Of course, I can't even know that. None of us can. Families grow and friends change and into what we can't really say. But that doesn't stop me from wondering about the answers to the questions I do not know, all the more so as the realities of time's passage grow more evident with each passing year.
(3) comments
Happy Passover, readers! This weekend, my extended family gathered for its annual family reunion/seder here in the city. It's a decades-old tradition, and for most of that time, I considered myself a member of the youngest of the three generations who attended. The same generations were present this time around. On the far end of the table sat my grandfather and his two sisters, both in wheelchairs. Scattered around the table was my father, his cousins, and their associated spouses. And then there were the grandchildren, including yours truly, by now a far cry from the four year old who wriggled his way uncomfortably through the four questions.
But now for the first time, there was a fourth group noticeably present: the great-grandchildren. Yes, several of my second cousins have had children, and although these new additions to the family have been present for the past several years, they were not particularly active participants. But this year, they were up and about, turning cartwheels and being adorable. They were justifiably the center of attention, even distracting us from the terrible quality of the overcooked bricks of meat served up under the name of "brisket."
As I looked on from the sidelines, one of my father's cousins observed that I was like that once. He was right, of course, and I responded that we all were once. But as I watched from the sidelines last night, I felt the passage of time more sharply than before. Somehow, when I wasn't looking, the boundaries between generations shifted and we grew up. My sister is a month and a half away from graduating medical school and moving out to the midwest to start a residency. I'm in the midst of writing a dissertation. Even the youngest members of my age cohort is now an undergraduate. When did this happen? I don't remember...
Passover is supposed to be about answering questions. Why is this night different from all other nights? Why do we eat matzah instead of leavened bread? Why do we eat while reclining? Yet as I sat around the table, I found that I had more questions than answers. My cousins asked about my research. After giving my standard response, they followed up with questions about the originality of my claims and the overall arc of my argument. Though I'm relatively certain that the history I am writing is unique, at this point, I have not gone beyond formulating arguments for the individual chapters, and therefore found myself stammering, grasping at straws to figure out the broader significance of an as yet unfinished thesis. This is the subject that has consumed my life for the better part of two years and still my ignorance outweighs my knowledge. And that in turn raises new concerns. Do I know what I'm doing or am I just faking it? Could I work even harder? What mistakes have I made and which are still capable of being fixed? In each case, the answer eludes me.
The irony, of course, is that when I was younger, I had a knack for being the one among my friends who had the answers. Whether making plans for a Friday night out, working on a take home exam, or playing on a quiz team, I could pride myself on having the answers. Now it seems that I am ill-suited to my old role. The dynamics are changing and my old friends are in new places, places that render my old sense of understanding less complete. This weekend, two of my friends announced that major changes were in store in their lives. One is having a child. Another is joining the National Guard. In two months, a third will be getting married. None of this is entirely unprecedented, but for some reason coming all at once it feels as though I'm standing still, clinging to the last vestiges of my past and watching as it gets pulled away by the inevitable passage of time. What does the future hold? Where will we all end up? Will all of us find someone? Obviously, these are the types of questions whose answers no one can ever know, and intellectually I know that to be the case. My gut rankles against the idea of a riddle that can't be solved, but there's nothing to be done.
In the end, I do not wish for time to stand still. There is something of a natural order to life and, as the saying goes, a time to set aside childish things. But even if I do eventually reconcile myself to the uncertainty of the future, I would feel better knowing that some of those questions had clear cut answers. And even moreso knowing that no matter how little I know, things will end up for the best.
Of course, I can't even know that. None of us can. Families grow and friends change and into what we can't really say. But that doesn't stop me from wondering about the answers to the questions I do not know, all the more so as the realities of time's passage grow more evident with each passing year.
