Source:
http://blogs.guardian.co.uk/mortarboard/2007/02/feel_like_youre_always_stuck_i.html#more


Postgrad blues: feels you're ever stuck in the second gear?

Patrick Tomlin
The Guardian, 20 February 2007


By Guardian Unlimited / Higher education 12:00am

Your mother warned you there'd be days like these, if the theme song from
Friends is to be believed. Only, in my case, it wasn't my mother who warned
me, but the person who supervised my undergraduate degree. Although that,
admittedly, wouldn't scan nearly as well, writes Patrick Tomlin. Every
doctoral student has days when they don't seem able to get anything done,
when they are confronted with the sheer impossibility and pointlessness of
what they have set out to achieve. And even though my emails to my mother
contain tales of papers produced, opuses digested and theories punctured by
my razor-sharp analysis, I'm no exception. I've just had such a day. I'd
like to share it with you.

5.55 She Who Earns The Money's alarm goes off, so she can catch the early
train to London where she will, well, earn the money. I think to myself that
I really should say more often how grateful I am to her for uprooting to
Oxford so I could do this. Somehow, my mouth translates this as "shhhhhhhh".

7.30 My alarm. Sod off, Humphrys.

10.30 I've made it to the library. I will start my research in a second.
First, I should check my email. All three accounts. And my facebook page.

11.15 I start researching.

11.30 Coffeemate texts to see if I want to have a coffee. I should do some
more work first, but 15 minutes can't hurt. And besides, Coffeemate is a
fellow political theorist, so if I make sure we talk shop, I'll be working
anyway.

11.35 Coffeemate and I discuss, again, what a nice guy Tony the Marxist is.
I wonder if anyone, anywhere, is discussing, at this very moment, what a
nice guy I am. Probably not. It must be because Tony is a Marxist. I resolve
to become a Marxist.

12.30 I read some Marx and remember why I'm not a Marxist. Namely, that a
large proportion of it is bollocks.

13.00 A long lunch, during which I read the Guardian. People are always
saying that political theory should be more connected to what is going on in
politics, so this really is working.

14.30 I finally start researching. About 10 minutes in, I realise that what
I grandiosely refer to as research is, in fact, "copying out", something I
learned to do aged four. With no empirical data or primary research to
gather, I just read what other people have written and take notes. I've
heard about a graduate student in my college whose work focuses on
developing a hypersonic plane. I bet he doesn't copy out.

15.30 I spend 15 minutes speculating about who I will get to write fawning
quotes on the dustjacket of my first book. Some of my former and present
tutors are quite big names in the field. Then again, my friend Danny has
presented a programme on the BBC about chimps, so maybe he would be better.

16.00 I am bored. I decide to jack up my enthusiasm levels by calling SWETM
and telling her what I'm reading about. I'm reading about whether people who
have naturally expensive tastes - who can only get the satisfaction you or I
would from a hamburger from a steak - deserve compensation for their
unfortunate condition. "But how exactly would you know?" she asks. "Well,
obviously we can't measure satisfaction, but if we could, should we
compensate them?" "Well, it doesn't matter much, really; it's never going to
happen."

17.30 Having been convinced of the total pointlessness of my thesis - I am
spending three years writing about a bunch of stuff that is never going to
happen - I decide to call it a day. On the way home, another thought strikes
me: it is quite likely that besides me, my supervisor and two examiners, no
one will ever read my thesis. So, just to recap: that's three years of
copying out, no point, will never happen, no one will read. If you're
dealing in political ideas, your only hope of having any effect on the world
is other people actually reading your work. I wish I was a physicist
developing terrifying new means of aviation.

20.00 Over dinner, SWETM and I discuss, again, why you would want to think
about things that can never happen. And if what is just is impossible, what
is the connection between what is just and what we should do? That's
interesting. I can think about that tomorrow. I love my job. Sorry, "job".

How was your day?

Read more from Patrick Tomlin at
http://education.guardian.co.uk/higher/postgraduate





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--
Salvatore Scifo
Communications,
MeCCSA Postgraduate Network


Communication and Media Research Institute
School of Media, Arts & Design
University of Westminster
Watford Road, Northwick Park
Harrow
HA1 3TP


MeCCSA Postgraduate Network
http://www.meccsa.org.uk/pgn/