Dialog is so much easier when I have recently been in contact with my advisor. The longer I spend away from him, the more dread and friction I feel about doing work, and I slow down and feel overwhelmed by all the projects I'm not doing enough work on, and it's exactly like the Doldrums in the Phantom Tollbooth, which is where you end up when you don't know where you are doing.
Then once I see my advisor, I am scared and feel a little stupid for part of the time, but then feel revved up and actually like I am doing just fine and I can do good work that will uphold my part of the traineeship bargain, and actually become super responsible and responsive.
Yesterday I met with my advisor. I was totally dreading it because I spent a few weeks under the weather, partially from physical illness and partially from the accumulated mental sludge and inertia from having been away from normal life for awhile. I was convinced that there was a good shot that I wasn't going to have my position next year, and that he would tell me just how disappointed he was in me and that he's sorry it didn't work out. It's not entirely paranoia on my part. I have been told similar things before and left to flail --- being asked to leave an academic program even --- though the flailing was temporary and certainly not fatal to me or even my career. But I forgot that he really wants this to work too.
Anyhow, paranoia over because he spoke to me like I am definitely going to be here next year. So I feel relieved. And we spoke about new projects and the next steps and how I am going to apply for funding real soon now.
As a result of this meeting and the burst of energy, when I got the "training grant annual update" form in the email today I wrote up the report and sent it back within an hour. Had I gotten the email before the meeting I would have sat on it hoping that I would do enough work to make myself worthy of filling out the form. Delusionally thinking, perhaps, that I could write and submit a couple papers before the end of the month so that I would have something on there other than my dissertation papers.
But the right way to think about it is to do all the work for the annual report, work hard and if I do happen to submit a paper I will add it to the report and resend it.
Life is so much easier when I'm happy and optimistic. When I'm in the middle of a procrastinatory funk, it's so hard to regain my optimism. Though maybe it just takes a meeting. Or even just any human contact.
This is my second consecutive day of good work habits. If I keep this up, maybe I will even start to feel like I am not just pretending to be responsible.
Showing posts with label procrastination. Show all posts
Showing posts with label procrastination. Show all posts
Friday, March 6, 2009
Sunday, March 1, 2009
The lack of obstacles is intimidating
I finally got the data that our "collaborators" had been withholding. I emailed the PI at the other university during the first week of the month, and twice more, asking for the data. He answered his email towards the end of the month. And I got it that day. And now there are no obstacles. I find that extremely intimidating.
The only thing standing in my way is me. (I am the change I am looking for?)
I went on a date with this engineer who told me of his first post-college job. He was hired on a 6 month contract into a group that was originally a bit over half a dozen people. He hadn't learned this area in college, and wanted the opportunity to be trained in it. When he arrived, the group was down to 3. Then the other two quit. And then the last one quit. And he was the only one in the group, and stayed up as late as he had to in order to do all of his work, and bought lots of books. And he did all the projects that the group was given. He is first generation --- he moved to US in late junior high --- so maybe has good work ethic from that. Whatever it is, I am in awe.
Were I in the situation I would take the many excuses available --- didn't know the material, group left, no mentorship, no contact with anyone --- and decide maybe I could do it, but it wasn't worth it. Worth what, I'm not sure: the time? the ego risk? And do just the minimum and hope to find something more suitable.
A friend of mine said that sometimes he thinks that in dating I am hoping to meet someone who will be a good model to improve my work habits. In fact I am.
The only thing standing in my way is me. (I am the change I am looking for?)
I went on a date with this engineer who told me of his first post-college job. He was hired on a 6 month contract into a group that was originally a bit over half a dozen people. He hadn't learned this area in college, and wanted the opportunity to be trained in it. When he arrived, the group was down to 3. Then the other two quit. And then the last one quit. And he was the only one in the group, and stayed up as late as he had to in order to do all of his work, and bought lots of books. And he did all the projects that the group was given. He is first generation --- he moved to US in late junior high --- so maybe has good work ethic from that. Whatever it is, I am in awe.
Were I in the situation I would take the many excuses available --- didn't know the material, group left, no mentorship, no contact with anyone --- and decide maybe I could do it, but it wasn't worth it. Worth what, I'm not sure: the time? the ego risk? And do just the minimum and hope to find something more suitable.
A friend of mine said that sometimes he thinks that in dating I am hoping to meet someone who will be a good model to improve my work habits. In fact I am.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Paranoia in"Collaboration": assertiveness lesson #598
I am joining a collaboration between my advisor and a group at another university about 1-2 hour flight from here. This is a collaboration where my advisor's lab is providing to the project something not available anywhere else. The rest of the project is not so innovative --- there are several dozen similar things.
The PI described the project and another two to me, and basically wants to meet me before we start collaborating, so they will fly down there for a few days. And soon. On phone call 2, he says that I should have as much done as possible in advance and that I should have one of those 4 am to 10 pm days, and it will be just one day.
In order to have work done in advance, I need information. He refers me to his peons (well, actually junior faculty), and they send me some information that is not adequate for planning. Two weeks of email exchange and finally they agree to send me "everything."
Some time passes in between all this --- some legitimate, some procrastination because my mind got off the project --- so my memory of the conversation is fuzzy enough that I don't catch on right away that I was only sent "everything", not actually everything: it's less than 1/3 of the project and my advisor's contribution isn't there. But I spend another week or two thinking I must have misremembered.
Finally I schedule a phone call with a junior faculty member who reveals that the PI is not actually comfortable sharing, or "collaborating", until he's published a certain amount on the project. As if he is afraid that his collaborator's postdoc is going to steal his entire project away.
The junior faculty member promises to send my advisor's contribution, but says I need to speak with the PI if I want the other 2/3 that is necessary to have "as much as possible done" in advance as he said.
I am used to standing in my own way by procrastinating --- I could have twice as many publications if I didn't check email or distract myself --- but it is weird realizing that there are actual other people that are real barriers and how important it is to be on my toes so that I can call b.s. when necessary. Because I wasn't on my toes and assertive, a month passed which was almost completely unproductive for this project.
In fact, I almost feel like I have to budget in this wasted time: how many hours and weeks to convince collaborators to actually collaborate.
The PI described the project and another two to me, and basically wants to meet me before we start collaborating, so they will fly down there for a few days. And soon. On phone call 2, he says that I should have as much done as possible in advance and that I should have one of those 4 am to 10 pm days, and it will be just one day.
In order to have work done in advance, I need information. He refers me to his peons (well, actually junior faculty), and they send me some information that is not adequate for planning. Two weeks of email exchange and finally they agree to send me "everything."
Some time passes in between all this --- some legitimate, some procrastination because my mind got off the project --- so my memory of the conversation is fuzzy enough that I don't catch on right away that I was only sent "everything", not actually everything: it's less than 1/3 of the project and my advisor's contribution isn't there. But I spend another week or two thinking I must have misremembered.
Finally I schedule a phone call with a junior faculty member who reveals that the PI is not actually comfortable sharing, or "collaborating", until he's published a certain amount on the project. As if he is afraid that his collaborator's postdoc is going to steal his entire project away.
The junior faculty member promises to send my advisor's contribution, but says I need to speak with the PI if I want the other 2/3 that is necessary to have "as much as possible done" in advance as he said.
I am used to standing in my own way by procrastinating --- I could have twice as many publications if I didn't check email or distract myself --- but it is weird realizing that there are actual other people that are real barriers and how important it is to be on my toes so that I can call b.s. when necessary. Because I wasn't on my toes and assertive, a month passed which was almost completely unproductive for this project.
In fact, I almost feel like I have to budget in this wasted time: how many hours and weeks to convince collaborators to actually collaborate.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Just as I was feeling irresponsible. . .
I am submitting an abstract to a conference at more or less the last minute and so emailed the section head to ask whether one idea would fit, having absolutely no idea what else I would do if he said no. Several email forwards ensue, and now I'm being asked to be the "[Field] expert" discussant on an impossibly-broad interdisciplinary panel.
It's so startling to be feeling irresponsible --- in this case because I am running late, as I frequently do --- and then to have such a thing land in my lap.
If I worked more consistently and wasn't running late for submissions and everything else, I might not feel like such an impostor, but on the other hand it's feeling like an impostor that lets me feel particularly grateful when good things happen.
...
In other news of unprofessionalism: the administrator for the job that just rejected me sent me an email about scheduling the rooms for the job candidates that they are inviting. Apparently the room scheduling administrator has the same first name. I googled the one name listed in the accidental email and he already has a faculty job at a very good state school. I'm flattered to have been competitive enough with already professors to make it to the top 10 of that group.
Once I start new projects post-dissertation, and feel solidly integrated in that, hopefully then I will actually get invited for the job talks.
But it is really hard to start new post-dissertation projects!
It's so startling to be feeling irresponsible --- in this case because I am running late, as I frequently do --- and then to have such a thing land in my lap.
If I worked more consistently and wasn't running late for submissions and everything else, I might not feel like such an impostor, but on the other hand it's feeling like an impostor that lets me feel particularly grateful when good things happen.
...
In other news of unprofessionalism: the administrator for the job that just rejected me sent me an email about scheduling the rooms for the job candidates that they are inviting. Apparently the room scheduling administrator has the same first name. I googled the one name listed in the accidental email and he already has a faculty job at a very good state school. I'm flattered to have been competitive enough with already professors to make it to the top 10 of that group.
Once I start new projects post-dissertation, and feel solidly integrated in that, hopefully then I will actually get invited for the job talks.
But it is really hard to start new post-dissertation projects!
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Boice lesson of the day: Stop!
We all have the days when you go to the office and don't do anything at all. Facebook. Clean out inbox. Obsess over details like travel plans. Maybe some meta-work such as looking up deadline for conference submissions, renewing library books, volunteering to chair a conference section, speaking to lay people.
And then it gets to be 5 or 6 pm, and I just want to stay until I've done something. But that just punishes myself and it makes me feel anxious and it puts me in a bad position for the next day, and I end up too tired to go to the gym, and it's all downhill from there.
So even though I haven't done anything today, I am going to leave. Tomorrow is another day.
I also write down what I did all day hour by hour, even to fill it in with "facebook", "catch up on dating site email", "catch up on professional email", "answer professional-related email from high school student", "attend lecture". My theory is that it's like the cure for obsessive thoughts. (You don't judge yourself for having them, and you don't try to stop them. You just count them. And before you know it you aren't thinking about that guy who dumped you after a 2 month relationship by losing his phone.)
And then it gets to be 5 or 6 pm, and I just want to stay until I've done something. But that just punishes myself and it makes me feel anxious and it puts me in a bad position for the next day, and I end up too tired to go to the gym, and it's all downhill from there.
So even though I haven't done anything today, I am going to leave. Tomorrow is another day.
I also write down what I did all day hour by hour, even to fill it in with "facebook", "catch up on dating site email", "catch up on professional email", "answer professional-related email from high school student", "attend lecture". My theory is that it's like the cure for obsessive thoughts. (You don't judge yourself for having them, and you don't try to stop them. You just count them. And before you know it you aren't thinking about that guy who dumped you after a 2 month relationship by losing his phone.)
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Privileged guilt
I got a note from an academic in a developing country who is 5 years younger than me and has 32 publications, nearly all in what sound like standard US and European journals (though he's not at all in my area, so I can't gauge). He is looking to come to a country where he'd have more economic opportunity and not live under an oppressive government.
Meanwhile I muse over how to stop myself from procrastinating and have had many many days where the bulk of my time was spent cleaning out my inbox and looking at funny pictures on the internet. I am always up to date on xkcd and almost always on the Daily Show. I am always behind on my journal reading, and may not even open the ones that come. Even not compared with someone for whom work is the only way to a decent life, I already feel guilty about the amount of time that I spend not doing anything productive.
Update: a friend of mine in that guy's field says he suspects that most of the cites are forged. It would be easy enough to check.
Meanwhile I muse over how to stop myself from procrastinating and have had many many days where the bulk of my time was spent cleaning out my inbox and looking at funny pictures on the internet. I am always up to date on xkcd and almost always on the Daily Show. I am always behind on my journal reading, and may not even open the ones that come. Even not compared with someone for whom work is the only way to a decent life, I already feel guilty about the amount of time that I spend not doing anything productive.
Update: a friend of mine in that guy's field says he suspects that most of the cites are forged. It would be easy enough to check.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Impostor syndrome: email version
I am supposed to be finding a research project now. The only constraint is that my research has to relate to the training grant, and I think they want me to do a little work with some people in the research center, but otherwise I can go around the department finding people to work with. I have a whole list, and I have carried around that list of people to speak with for several days before I got up the courage to write to any of them. Classic impostor syndrome: I think they wouldn't want to work with me either right now or later after getting to know me.
The funny thing is that it doesn't get any easier the more I write to. I wrote to the three directly suggested to me, no problem. And to the department chair. But now I have 3 or 4 more left, and each one feels difficult.
My insecurity was made slightly worse that my (very sweet but straight-talking) advisor said that the department chair was a good person to speak with as long as I don't ask him about nonsense. I should let that roll off my back. I know I should. I just feel like I should take some lesson from it.
Also, one of the 3 I have to write to, made some sarcastic remark to me in a phone conversation before I came, which made me feel like he thought I wasn't smart. And everyone tells me this guy is so nice.
Just have to do it. Three two one and then it's the weekend. And I will have accomplished all week is attending a class and sending some emails. Well, and getting more settled. And reading more Boice.
The funny thing is that it doesn't get any easier the more I write to. I wrote to the three directly suggested to me, no problem. And to the department chair. But now I have 3 or 4 more left, and each one feels difficult.
My insecurity was made slightly worse that my (very sweet but straight-talking) advisor said that the department chair was a good person to speak with as long as I don't ask him about nonsense. I should let that roll off my back. I know I should. I just feel like I should take some lesson from it.
Also, one of the 3 I have to write to, made some sarcastic remark to me in a phone conversation before I came, which made me feel like he thought I wasn't smart. And everyone tells me this guy is so nice.
Just have to do it. Three two one and then it's the weekend. And I will have accomplished all week is attending a class and sending some emails. Well, and getting more settled. And reading more Boice.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
My decision: maybe not?
Since I wrote my acceptance letter, a few things have happened. The most fundamental one being that I haven't sent it yet. I wrote the letter with the intention of sending it, obviously, but while I was writing the blog post I remembered one last lead at the nebulous-research place; I did, in fact, send off a note to them saying simply (because it was my third note, the previous sent April 20 and 29, and they'd promised an answer initially the week before and then the day before), "Any news? I'm sorry to be pushy, but I have been sitting on another offer for a long time, and I should give them an answer relatively soon." I sent it towards the end of the working day, and unsurprisingly didn't get an answer.
I did start to look at apartments in my presumptive new city, and did marvel that more than half of the ads mention whether or not Section 8 housing vouchers are accepted; some of the Section 8-accepting apartment buildings come fairly close to the gentrified areas. Interestingly, housing is not much cheaper than here or my previous city; you just get more. For instance, a 3 bedroom/3 bathroom over 3 floors with a hot tub costs per person the same as my current and past 2 bedroom. That makes sense: the landlords know what university-affiliated folk are willing to pay, and that's a national market, so they give them something that they are willing to pay that much for. A hot tub seems extravagant, but surely it can generate enough extra rental income to pay for itself in a year. One apartment complex stress that you do not have to ever go outside if you live there: the garage is directly attached. The subtext that I can't help but read is, "Never see another poor minority again!"
I pictured myself getting a beautiful one bedroom, working in a cramped office filled with partitions and women who talk about shoes for hours at a time (this happened), and coming home every day and just crying. Or, alternatively, being completely alone in one cubicles among many in a distant part of campus, and having no advisors anywhere nearby, nor answering email, which is how they've been so far. Then I called a friend who lives 2 hours away from the new city, and cheered up at realizing that I could piece together a social life over the phone and in person. And I looked at the facebook groups for incoming PhD students to the school, and realize they are all in the same situation as I am coming to this awful city for an education, only I have a PhD already.
Then this morning, I got a note from the government job with subject line "Compatibility." They liked me, and are interested in moving ahead, only they had budget problems this year and can't fly me out, so want to know if I like them. An hour after they sent the note, they got an enthusiastic reply. So we'll see.
Maybe my advisor was right that as prestigious as the other postdoc is, and as exciting as the academic opportunities are, I just don't care that much about them.
My feelings about the prospect of this prestigious postdocs is that the excitement of lots of new opportunities wears off, and they become the status quo, with the same set of unproductive work habits.
Every semester of classes in college and grad school brought the rush of excitement, except first semester freshman year. This semester was going to be different than the previous ones. I was excited by my classes. I was going to learn a lot. I was going to go to every class, start the homework early, and go to office hours to ask for help. I was going to come on time, sit near the front, and ask questions. Sometimes I did stick to my resolution, and these were my best classes, even though they weren't the easiest. Other times, I felt completely defeated. In a new city with no friends, difficult-to-contact advisors, and so much to get used to, I'm afraid it would be more the latter. Getting used to a new place and establishing new habits is a task in itself. The times I've been most productive are after I've already been somewhere for awhile.
I've gotten so used to my rehearsed interview answer about my research and professional goals during my postdoc that I've forgotten my real goal: get some work habits. Going to a new university where I've never been and where the presumption is that I'm productive is a plus: change your location, change your luck, as they say. Though if I feel like people think I'm far more productive than I really am --- as some seem to assume --- that could backfire because it would feel like an impossible task, especially because some of my research center colleagues are in fields where the average work habits are far far above mine. But this school might feel just as alienating as my old one. And with no compensating social life, I would feel even more alienated. On the other hand, having no friends could force me to make more work friends than I normally would, and maybe be encouraged to learn better work habits.
I've read a few chapters of this cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT) book that I read several years ago, and have noticed myself arguing with my assumptions, realizing that it's not a black and white question. The new job is unlikely to be perfect, and I won't fully meet any of my goals, but I'll meet some of them partially, and get exposed to new topics. Feeling defeated would not be the end of the world, and even the terms which I count as failures were helpful to me. Giving up on my research for weeks or months at a time and concentrating on teaching was considered in the eyes of my advisor and graduate program to be a waste of time (which they told me), but it made me a devoted teacher, and my teaching statement and skills are now good enough that I came in second for a tenure-track job at an elite small college, losing only to someone from a less-well-located small college who already had tenure. That's something none of my classmates could have done. I could have balanced my work better, but maybe it was important to concentrate on teaching when I was just learning how. During my last year of grad school, I couldn't teach, but I threw myself into job application preparation, with no thought to my research, except what I needed for job talks, but job preparation requires a lot of time and I had to learn a lot; I could have balanced my research better, but I did do some. So even the difficult years did have redeeming qualities. and it's not like I've ever been not lonely, no matter where I lived. Other than in college where I ate every lunch and dinner with friends.
The upshot is: I don't know. Sending the letter last thing on Friday is the same as last thing on Sunday night, so I'll mull it over a bit before then. Part of me says that it's not a big deal to move somewhere for a year. My parents live here, so I can only take the essentials, and mail some books media rate, as if I were just going off to college. The other part of me is thinking how stressful it is to not only try to start a whole new set of research with new colleagues, but then socially to need to be "on" in order to make new friends at work and away. Though if I make friends at work, hopefully that will encourage my work habits.
This job is not a bad thing. Really. I'll just keep reading that CBT book.
I did start to look at apartments in my presumptive new city, and did marvel that more than half of the ads mention whether or not Section 8 housing vouchers are accepted; some of the Section 8-accepting apartment buildings come fairly close to the gentrified areas. Interestingly, housing is not much cheaper than here or my previous city; you just get more. For instance, a 3 bedroom/3 bathroom over 3 floors with a hot tub costs per person the same as my current and past 2 bedroom. That makes sense: the landlords know what university-affiliated folk are willing to pay, and that's a national market, so they give them something that they are willing to pay that much for. A hot tub seems extravagant, but surely it can generate enough extra rental income to pay for itself in a year. One apartment complex stress that you do not have to ever go outside if you live there: the garage is directly attached. The subtext that I can't help but read is, "Never see another poor minority again!"
I pictured myself getting a beautiful one bedroom, working in a cramped office filled with partitions and women who talk about shoes for hours at a time (this happened), and coming home every day and just crying. Or, alternatively, being completely alone in one cubicles among many in a distant part of campus, and having no advisors anywhere nearby, nor answering email, which is how they've been so far. Then I called a friend who lives 2 hours away from the new city, and cheered up at realizing that I could piece together a social life over the phone and in person. And I looked at the facebook groups for incoming PhD students to the school, and realize they are all in the same situation as I am coming to this awful city for an education, only I have a PhD already.
Then this morning, I got a note from the government job with subject line "Compatibility." They liked me, and are interested in moving ahead, only they had budget problems this year and can't fly me out, so want to know if I like them. An hour after they sent the note, they got an enthusiastic reply. So we'll see.
Maybe my advisor was right that as prestigious as the other postdoc is, and as exciting as the academic opportunities are, I just don't care that much about them.
My feelings about the prospect of this prestigious postdocs is that the excitement of lots of new opportunities wears off, and they become the status quo, with the same set of unproductive work habits.
Every semester of classes in college and grad school brought the rush of excitement, except first semester freshman year. This semester was going to be different than the previous ones. I was excited by my classes. I was going to learn a lot. I was going to go to every class, start the homework early, and go to office hours to ask for help. I was going to come on time, sit near the front, and ask questions. Sometimes I did stick to my resolution, and these were my best classes, even though they weren't the easiest. Other times, I felt completely defeated. In a new city with no friends, difficult-to-contact advisors, and so much to get used to, I'm afraid it would be more the latter. Getting used to a new place and establishing new habits is a task in itself. The times I've been most productive are after I've already been somewhere for awhile.
I've gotten so used to my rehearsed interview answer about my research and professional goals during my postdoc that I've forgotten my real goal: get some work habits. Going to a new university where I've never been and where the presumption is that I'm productive is a plus: change your location, change your luck, as they say. Though if I feel like people think I'm far more productive than I really am --- as some seem to assume --- that could backfire because it would feel like an impossible task, especially because some of my research center colleagues are in fields where the average work habits are far far above mine. But this school might feel just as alienating as my old one. And with no compensating social life, I would feel even more alienated. On the other hand, having no friends could force me to make more work friends than I normally would, and maybe be encouraged to learn better work habits.
I've read a few chapters of this cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT) book that I read several years ago, and have noticed myself arguing with my assumptions, realizing that it's not a black and white question. The new job is unlikely to be perfect, and I won't fully meet any of my goals, but I'll meet some of them partially, and get exposed to new topics. Feeling defeated would not be the end of the world, and even the terms which I count as failures were helpful to me. Giving up on my research for weeks or months at a time and concentrating on teaching was considered in the eyes of my advisor and graduate program to be a waste of time (which they told me), but it made me a devoted teacher, and my teaching statement and skills are now good enough that I came in second for a tenure-track job at an elite small college, losing only to someone from a less-well-located small college who already had tenure. That's something none of my classmates could have done. I could have balanced my work better, but maybe it was important to concentrate on teaching when I was just learning how. During my last year of grad school, I couldn't teach, but I threw myself into job application preparation, with no thought to my research, except what I needed for job talks, but job preparation requires a lot of time and I had to learn a lot; I could have balanced my research better, but I did do some. So even the difficult years did have redeeming qualities. and it's not like I've ever been not lonely, no matter where I lived. Other than in college where I ate every lunch and dinner with friends.
The upshot is: I don't know. Sending the letter last thing on Friday is the same as last thing on Sunday night, so I'll mull it over a bit before then. Part of me says that it's not a big deal to move somewhere for a year. My parents live here, so I can only take the essentials, and mail some books media rate, as if I were just going off to college. The other part of me is thinking how stressful it is to not only try to start a whole new set of research with new colleagues, but then socially to need to be "on" in order to make new friends at work and away. Though if I make friends at work, hopefully that will encourage my work habits.
This job is not a bad thing. Really. I'll just keep reading that CBT book.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
The million dollar question: valuing my time
A family friend sent me the following email:
I thanked the family friend, but declined to contact him because I'm happy in academia, and whatever the job is, it probably requires 80-100 hour weeks and most of the salary is tied up in bonuses with substantial risk attached. I've turned down lucrative possibilities before: lots of people with my academic background take impressive jobs making money for big corporations, and get paid very well for it. While I find these kinds of jobs interesting enough to read a newspaper article about them, or even an in-depth magazine article, I can't see being motivated by money.
I am very motivated by what I see as the ultimate purposes of my academic work, when I think about it. There's probably some psychology which show that people care more about the day to day realities of their life than the ultimate big goals, but even the intermediate goals motivate me: do research, and publish a paper on any of the subjects that I am interested in, and have the chance to affect others, maybe get quoted in a newspaper. And I have a list of easily half a dozen, but probably a dozen, papers that I can write relatively easily. I have all the materials here. I could get into a routine of a paper every month or every other month. They're easy, low-hanging fruit, and because hardly anyone in my subfield has my particular set of skills, no one has ever done these papers before.
The thing is: I don't do them. Or at least, not as fast as I could. I work for a certain amount of time before distracting myself. Or I get absorbed by my pressing problems, so right now, I'm looking for more postdocs to apply to in case the current ones don't turn out.
I recognize that human behavior frequently doesn't make sense, but I think my behavior here makes even less sense than most: in some alternate reality, my time could be valued at a million dollars a year, and yet if you laid out my procrastination time end-to-end, it could easily fill at least a year.
It might be worth a million dollars a year to me to actually do my real work, but it's clearly not worth a million dollars a year to read blogs and watch youtube. Arguably, I value my time for so little that I'm willing to spend a few minutes here and there because that's all dimes and nickels. If my time was a few dollars a minute, losing an hour here or there really does matter.
[Actually, I'm surprised that's all a minute is worth if you're making a million dollars a year. Post-tax, it's 600,000/year, or 12,000 per week, and if it's a not-atypical 80 hours per week job, that's $2.50 a minute.]
Maybe the million dollar job doesn't really exist, but does it make me value my time any more to think that I could be making an order of magnitude more than I really am? Or does the part of my brain which makes me decide to procrastinate operate beyond all realms of reason?
I was at a party and my dinner partner was a head hunter. He deals in very high powered positions. I asked him to elaborate. Companies pay his fees, not the candidates. He mentioned a company with a position for a specialist in [the field of my MA]. I mentioned that I knew a recent grad. He told me the position could be @ a million a year. If you are interested in contacting him, give me a call on my cell
I thanked the family friend, but declined to contact him because I'm happy in academia, and whatever the job is, it probably requires 80-100 hour weeks and most of the salary is tied up in bonuses with substantial risk attached. I've turned down lucrative possibilities before: lots of people with my academic background take impressive jobs making money for big corporations, and get paid very well for it. While I find these kinds of jobs interesting enough to read a newspaper article about them, or even an in-depth magazine article, I can't see being motivated by money.
I am very motivated by what I see as the ultimate purposes of my academic work, when I think about it. There's probably some psychology which show that people care more about the day to day realities of their life than the ultimate big goals, but even the intermediate goals motivate me: do research, and publish a paper on any of the subjects that I am interested in, and have the chance to affect others, maybe get quoted in a newspaper. And I have a list of easily half a dozen, but probably a dozen, papers that I can write relatively easily. I have all the materials here. I could get into a routine of a paper every month or every other month. They're easy, low-hanging fruit, and because hardly anyone in my subfield has my particular set of skills, no one has ever done these papers before.
The thing is: I don't do them. Or at least, not as fast as I could. I work for a certain amount of time before distracting myself. Or I get absorbed by my pressing problems, so right now, I'm looking for more postdocs to apply to in case the current ones don't turn out.
I recognize that human behavior frequently doesn't make sense, but I think my behavior here makes even less sense than most: in some alternate reality, my time could be valued at a million dollars a year, and yet if you laid out my procrastination time end-to-end, it could easily fill at least a year.
It might be worth a million dollars a year to me to actually do my real work, but it's clearly not worth a million dollars a year to read blogs and watch youtube. Arguably, I value my time for so little that I'm willing to spend a few minutes here and there because that's all dimes and nickels. If my time was a few dollars a minute, losing an hour here or there really does matter.
[Actually, I'm surprised that's all a minute is worth if you're making a million dollars a year. Post-tax, it's 600,000/year, or 12,000 per week, and if it's a not-atypical 80 hours per week job, that's $2.50 a minute.]
Maybe the million dollar job doesn't really exist, but does it make me value my time any more to think that I could be making an order of magnitude more than I really am? Or does the part of my brain which makes me decide to procrastinate operate beyond all realms of reason?
Friday, January 25, 2008
Why travel is disruptive (boring)
I find travel to be incredibly disruptive to my schedule and productivity, and have been trying to figure out why. I've come up with a few ideas. I am guessing this will be a boring post, so feel free to skip it.
1. Travel disrupts habits, so that I start thinking about things that I do every day, and usually end up delaying things and sometimes not doing them at all. Delaying things makes me more reluctant to do them.
2. Travel is exhausting, both from emotional energy in interviewing, and physical exhaustion from lack of sleep, lack of exercise, or unfamiliar food. When I'm tired, I am more sluggish and again, delay things or don't do them at all.
3. Travel lets me build up a whole backlog of non-work, such as email and newspapers to read. I don't like backlogs of anything, and these backlogs are easier to clear up than my actual work. (An interesting assumption behind that: my actual work will never be done, but I can succeed in clearing my inbox.)
4. Travel often makes me more interested in my work, but also reminds me of how behind I am, and the backlog of work seems more daunting, so spurs more procrastination.
I'm pretty sure that's all. Somehow it feels better now that I have unpacked it: when I feel behind and overwhelmed because of travel, it's nice to know that it's probably for one of the above 4 reasons.
1. Travel disrupts habits, so that I start thinking about things that I do every day, and usually end up delaying things and sometimes not doing them at all. Delaying things makes me more reluctant to do them.
2. Travel is exhausting, both from emotional energy in interviewing, and physical exhaustion from lack of sleep, lack of exercise, or unfamiliar food. When I'm tired, I am more sluggish and again, delay things or don't do them at all.
3. Travel lets me build up a whole backlog of non-work, such as email and newspapers to read. I don't like backlogs of anything, and these backlogs are easier to clear up than my actual work. (An interesting assumption behind that: my actual work will never be done, but I can succeed in clearing my inbox.)
4. Travel often makes me more interested in my work, but also reminds me of how behind I am, and the backlog of work seems more daunting, so spurs more procrastination.
I'm pretty sure that's all. Somehow it feels better now that I have unpacked it: when I feel behind and overwhelmed because of travel, it's nice to know that it's probably for one of the above 4 reasons.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Procrastination strategy
A commenter pointed me to an essay on structured procrastination, a method to trick oneself into doing work by prioritizing things which are not really priorities so you can do the really important things.
What I find really terrific is not just the technique, but also the implicit assumption that's there's nothing wrong with having procrastinatory tendencies. Like many women, I ruminate, and sometimes I will wonder if the fact that I procrastinate means that deep down I have some kind of innate fear of work or success or something else, and my head spins at the possibilities. (Procrastination could be internalized sexism, a reaction to being bullied for doing well in high school, an indication that I don't really like myself. But, really, it doesn't matter.)
It's incredibly gratifying to start from the supposition that the urge to procrastinate is not going to change, but to find a strategy which uses the procrastination constructively.
What I find really terrific is not just the technique, but also the implicit assumption that's there's nothing wrong with having procrastinatory tendencies. Like many women, I ruminate, and sometimes I will wonder if the fact that I procrastinate means that deep down I have some kind of innate fear of work or success or something else, and my head spins at the possibilities. (Procrastination could be internalized sexism, a reaction to being bullied for doing well in high school, an indication that I don't really like myself. But, really, it doesn't matter.)
It's incredibly gratifying to start from the supposition that the urge to procrastinate is not going to change, but to find a strategy which uses the procrastination constructively.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Just living life
I had some phone interviews this morning, and the attitude of one of my interviewers really captured the ideal existence. When talking about her position, she said, "I don't know if I'll get promoted. I'll just enjoy it while I'm here and see what happens."
For all that we worry about the job search, everyone ends up with some job. The malcontents will grouse and the optimists will be happy, and there will be advantages and disadvantages. Even the best-funded positions sometimes lack resources or support.
Only at the points of transition, do we think about the specifics of life, sometimes getting down (at least in my case) into the nit-picky details that you can never really know. When you start a new job, you fill your life again, quite literally: furniture for oddly-shaped spaces; staple foods to fill the shelves; friends to build a new social world; a routine with commuting routes, supermarkets, laundry, seminars; activities like a gym, running paths, volunteer work. But at some point, the work is done, it's all settled, and you can just live your life.
It can be tempting sometimes to live in the transition points. Starting over brings hope --- filling a new apartment is the adult version of shopping for school supplies as a child or mulling over syllabi to choose classes as a college student. In the transition points, there is all the potential in the world, the tasks are simple, and bad habits aren't important, but there's no life to be lived in transition.
At the moment that life starts again, you can fall behind, procrastinate, sleep late, come late, miss something, get behind, and since I'm a perfectionist sometimes I just want to go back before everything started and try again for perfect. Of course, at the moment that life starts again, you can make progress, make mistakes, learn something, do something, come very close to finishing something and in one last great push finish it, meet people, come early, start earlier than you would have expected, enjoy sleeping late, until at least 7:30 because you deserve it. I want to try to see things in this latter way, but the former feels more natural.
Life has started. Settled is where I am right now. My furniture is settled and I am really actually fond of it, and especially I love the way that the sun comes in the apartment in the morning; my kitchen shelves are full; I am making friends and have more people I'd like to spend time with than time to spend with them; routine is difficult to establish especially with travel and interruptions, but I'm getting there, I have a roommate who is a good pace-setter, and at least I've nearly figured out transportation; and I've started some hobbies and have lists of others to try when I have the chance. What is left for me is simply to live my life, and as scary as it is, I really want to do that: to have a solid 10 hours every day in which to finish the unfinished projects and papers and start the new ideas that have been sitting in the back of my mind, and just be efficient. It's a tricky balance to be settled enough to put in regular hours for long periods to finish projects, yet to feel unsettled enough to push and finish and not let things get more and more leisurely, slowing down into the Doldrums, the place you end up when you don't know where you're going in the words of the Phantom Tollbooth.
I don't know what will happen. I'll just enjoy it while I'm here and see what happens.
For all that we worry about the job search, everyone ends up with some job. The malcontents will grouse and the optimists will be happy, and there will be advantages and disadvantages. Even the best-funded positions sometimes lack resources or support.
Only at the points of transition, do we think about the specifics of life, sometimes getting down (at least in my case) into the nit-picky details that you can never really know. When you start a new job, you fill your life again, quite literally: furniture for oddly-shaped spaces; staple foods to fill the shelves; friends to build a new social world; a routine with commuting routes, supermarkets, laundry, seminars; activities like a gym, running paths, volunteer work. But at some point, the work is done, it's all settled, and you can just live your life.
It can be tempting sometimes to live in the transition points. Starting over brings hope --- filling a new apartment is the adult version of shopping for school supplies as a child or mulling over syllabi to choose classes as a college student. In the transition points, there is all the potential in the world, the tasks are simple, and bad habits aren't important, but there's no life to be lived in transition.
At the moment that life starts again, you can fall behind, procrastinate, sleep late, come late, miss something, get behind, and since I'm a perfectionist sometimes I just want to go back before everything started and try again for perfect. Of course, at the moment that life starts again, you can make progress, make mistakes, learn something, do something, come very close to finishing something and in one last great push finish it, meet people, come early, start earlier than you would have expected, enjoy sleeping late, until at least 7:30 because you deserve it. I want to try to see things in this latter way, but the former feels more natural.
Life has started. Settled is where I am right now. My furniture is settled and I am really actually fond of it, and especially I love the way that the sun comes in the apartment in the morning; my kitchen shelves are full; I am making friends and have more people I'd like to spend time with than time to spend with them; routine is difficult to establish especially with travel and interruptions, but I'm getting there, I have a roommate who is a good pace-setter, and at least I've nearly figured out transportation; and I've started some hobbies and have lists of others to try when I have the chance. What is left for me is simply to live my life, and as scary as it is, I really want to do that: to have a solid 10 hours every day in which to finish the unfinished projects and papers and start the new ideas that have been sitting in the back of my mind, and just be efficient. It's a tricky balance to be settled enough to put in regular hours for long periods to finish projects, yet to feel unsettled enough to push and finish and not let things get more and more leisurely, slowing down into the Doldrums, the place you end up when you don't know where you're going in the words of the Phantom Tollbooth.
I don't know what will happen. I'll just enjoy it while I'm here and see what happens.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Confidence in the job search
Two observations as I browse the Chronicle of Higher Education listings:
1. Some schools don't categorize their jobs correctly, so I just look through all of them for the locations I'd live in. In contrast to everything else in academic life, I see a broad array of fields, some of which I've never heard of. The availability of a wide selection almost feels like the menu for choosing an undergraduate major, as if I could suddenly decide to apply for a faculty position in Quantitative Assyrian Film Studies. In reality, there are 400 people with PhDs in precisely that field madly competing for the one position, but that's not visible from the Chronicle website.
2. Last year, I applied to a wide variety of jobs, looking primarily at the fields and how I fit in. Somehow I felt less nervous to be applying for a range of jobs and to treat all the jobs the same. I applied for one job at an urban commuter school and I looked at their website just the same as I looked at the website of the more traditional research-oriented universities, and spent about the same time writing cover letters. Writing 70 cover letters each individual one doesn't mean all that much, so the process went smoothly. I got interviews at all levels of places. Now that I realize that the urban commuter schools may offer fantastic teaching opportunities, if I want research I need to go elsewhere, so my search is far more directed, each cover letter means much more, and I feel more tempted to procrastinate.
1. Some schools don't categorize their jobs correctly, so I just look through all of them for the locations I'd live in. In contrast to everything else in academic life, I see a broad array of fields, some of which I've never heard of. The availability of a wide selection almost feels like the menu for choosing an undergraduate major, as if I could suddenly decide to apply for a faculty position in Quantitative Assyrian Film Studies. In reality, there are 400 people with PhDs in precisely that field madly competing for the one position, but that's not visible from the Chronicle website.
2. Last year, I applied to a wide variety of jobs, looking primarily at the fields and how I fit in. Somehow I felt less nervous to be applying for a range of jobs and to treat all the jobs the same. I applied for one job at an urban commuter school and I looked at their website just the same as I looked at the website of the more traditional research-oriented universities, and spent about the same time writing cover letters. Writing 70 cover letters each individual one doesn't mean all that much, so the process went smoothly. I got interviews at all levels of places. Now that I realize that the urban commuter schools may offer fantastic teaching opportunities, if I want research I need to go elsewhere, so my search is far more directed, each cover letter means much more, and I feel more tempted to procrastinate.
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