The View From Here (Part 3)

Well, for part of this blog, I wanted to write about things I see and do in town.  Stuff I like.  Well, I wouldn’t have expected this little bit, but it’s entertaining at least, and I have to share.  A few mornings ago, we were awakened by a huge crash on the glass skylight.  Quickly shot out of bed to assess the damage.  The skylight was not broken, but there was a new beam of metal dangling above, attached to some sort of rope that ran up to the slightly higher roof next door.  OK then.  Awake now.  Getting ready for work and there is some strange, high squeaky sound.  Look up into the skylight and the beam is gone, as well as the rope.  Neat.  A while later, we look outside at the front of the place, for any clue as to what the crap just happened.  And we see this guy next door.  Doing whatever this is.  Three stories up.

And yes, he did make it back inside safely!

Is this normal?

Charlie Murphy Says

Charlie Murphy says, "I didn't sign up for this."

The Fabulous Phenomenon of Spring

Noticed the other day that I wasn’t rushing down the hill towards the subway on the way home after work.  My head wasn’t down, defending against pelting rain, snow, or that god-awful Montreal wind.  I was looking up, walking slowly, breathing in the air, planning this year’s balcony garden in my head.  I was even smiling.  I didn’t even realize how rare this is until it actually happened.  Spring.

Then, a week of rain.  A whole week.  Not exaggerating here.  I think, to live in northern climates, people need to build up a whole lot of inner reinforcements against the bad things that can come from enduring months of cold winter.  Outdoor exercise like skiing and skating help, and an appreciation for those days of doing “indoor” activities: watching movies, reading books, taking all Sunday to make a delicious stew.  

See, this is what happened this week:  we finally made it through a rainy/snowy April that only contained a few hints of spring to come.  A little warmth here, a little sun there.  And the month of May, it came in bright and shiny.  I planted my garden.  And then it rained for the next 7 days.  And not warm humid rain, mind you.  Cold rain, with a hurricane breeze to match.  It felt like winter.  And I had already cast off all my winter inner reinforcements when I tilled the soil for this year’s balcony garden.  Oh, the misery!

And now, the sun has unexpectedly forced its way through those clouds.  I have frantically grabbed up the laptop, the phone, the journal, a glass of water, the cat, and made myself comfortable for a whole afternoon of working on the front balcony.  Surrounded by the new porch garden I hadn’t even had the chance of enjoying yet, and it’s been planted a week.  It’s warm enough for bare feet, and my happy little toes are basking in the breeze running through them.  And now, the possibilities of the future are bright again.  Now, I’ve rediscovered  optimism. 

And I wonder, why are moods so dependent on the weather?  

Pep Talk

It might sound absurd to anyone in a career outside of academia.  But, I’ll just be brave right now and put it out there.  My feelings about a science career change absolutely every day.  Going through PhD school, this might have been the case, but I was so concerned with every last detail of bladder anatomy, spinal cord pathways, and however the habenula connects to the stria medullaris thalamicus, that I didn’t notice.  In learning all of those details, I was (overall) enjoying myself and following a path, feeling like I was getting somewhere.  But it seems to me that, at least in myself and my own science friends, there comes a point (or two or twenty) where you are lost.  No sense of a path.  You are left to discover, and discover you must, in order to feel successful.  You have a fuzzy sense of betrayal, although you are not sure who betrayed you, when it happened, or how. 

Personally, I made myself very tired getting that PhD.  And soon after, I embarked on a post-doc that I thought I should sure be well qualified for, having that fancy PhD and all.  But of course, it’s science.  It’s academia.  It has its perks, but is also completely unpredictable.  Dependent upon luck. 

And in my case, the post-doc research is not nearly as lucky as the PhD work.  Try as I might, none of my own ideas have really panned out.  The angst was really taking over for a while.  I can see now that I had way-too-high expectations for the post-doc.  I confounded the angst with a sense of entitlement.  This is the thing:  in order to get through the PhD, I told myself I was getting such a specialized degree in order to get a career that really suited me.  Putting in the work then, it was certain that I would be happy later.  I assumed it would be the next step that would be so great.  I probably expected my post-doc to be sunny, productive, friendly, easier.  This was very silly, but maybe forgivable. 

Now, pessimism was never my style.  It’s been creeping in for a long time now.  Holding off on “life”, never really letting go on the weekends, forgetting to enjoy hikes with your friends because you’re writing a thesis and are anxious to get back to it...  You might know the drill.

So, PhD students and post-docs, and anyone struggling in their “pathway” to their dream career, here’s what I’m thinking: there is no pathway.  It might look that way on paper, but I’ll bet very few professors, or professionals in any field, really ever knew what they wanted to be at nine years old (I wanted 5 PhD’s, remember?), then followed every exact step to that point without a moment of doubt.  Or a few years of being broke.  Or some heartbreak.  It’s supposed to be imperfect.  Life is not easy.  And having fantastic plans and a solid head on your shoulders doesn’t change that.  Of course, you should have goals.  But so many of us make the mistake of thinking that hard work will get you everything you ever wanted just exactly when you decide it’s time.  What I might be trying to say is: don’t sweat it. 

Don’t be surprised if you wake up one day, thinking that suddenly all of those things you were reaching for are out of reach.  This might not be the worst thing.  Did you think a great paycheck was the goal?  Maybe you’ll come home from work one day and get mail that informs you your money’s gone.  All of it.  This is not the worst thing.  Maybe you thought you needed a bunch of publications in order to know that you were successful.  And maybe, try as you might, those publications were not accepted, were never written, or the data was never positive.  This is not the worst thing.  The worst thing?  Forgetting who you are. Forgetting what you have to offer outside of that chosen path.  A path is important, but really, your path might be leading along a gorgeous shoreline, or through a close forest, and you might be too busy looking down in the dirt for your paper, or the money you lost!  You’d miss the sound of the waves, you’d miss seeing the passing ship, you’d miss the hazy summer blue sky, the songstress birds up in the trees. 

Stop and think.  Could it be that at one point you already were successful?  Perhaps, there were a few months back in school where you were on top of the world, full of dreams, not a tiny bit of doubt that you would make it to the exalted heights, the place you always wanted to be.  You were happy.  Your friends were around.  You knew you had it all.  Remember.  You didn’t realize it then, but you had success.  You were giving it your all.  It might be that success is just that simple.

You know what skills you have.  You know what you want to do.  It’s true that you have talent.  Don’t let experiments and setbacks make you feel like you don’t.  Do not waste your time.  You are attempting one of the most difficult things that there is to do.  You are trying to make a completely new discovery, with unperfected techniques, on your very own.  You have learned as much as you can in your field, and now you’re on the frontier, moving the field forward.  Silly scientist, this is no easy task!  Don’t forget to be proud of how far you’ve gotten.

If happiness is not your ultimate goal, then we won’t be understanding each other. J  But if it is, here’s what I think: don’t convince yourself that outward signs of success are actual success.  Listen, deep.  Look at what you’ve done, who you’re close to, who you’ve met, think of the places you’ve loved.  Success will find you, and it might not look a damn thing like what you thought it would.  It doesn’t come quickly, no matter what silly degrees you might have earned.  But, keep listening.  No matter what, keep going in some direction, and just enjoy what there is to enjoy there, no matter what. 

If you’re feeling lost, you just might find yourself again in a simple moment. 

I’m still believing that hard work works, after all.  Just at a slower pace than I had anticipated.  And it might take me in a completely different direction than I had anticipated or been prepared for.  And that’s OK.