That didn't take long

I went from zero to loathing in 3 months.
My feelings about postdoc’ing that is.
I was so happy and proud and excited to start this next phase, but now I’m screaming to get out. Everyone says your postdoc is great; no teaching, unlimited productivity, etc. But I’ve just come off unlimited productivity. I’ve been a whirlwind of productivity. I published eight first authored manuscripts in the last 2 years. I’ve been my own PI, with my own funding. I’ve initiating multiple research projects, attended 18 conferences, done paid contract work, and described a new species, all in the past three years.
I’ve been the poster girl for productivity.

I don’t want to work on someone else’s project. I don’t want to be the only person sitting at the lab bench every day. Knowing that I’m spinning my wheels because nothing will come out of the data for years. Writing up old experiments I didn’t perform just to be third or fourth author on a manuscript. Having all my ideas be circumvented through my advisor, transformed and then passed off to my honour’s student. What am I doing? I go to Uni each day, but I don’t really have anything to do. I’m losing momentum.

I want control again.
I want my own research again.
I need a faculty position.

It's so damn cold!

As I huddle down in the only room in the apartment that has doors and a working heater, and review what I’ve compiled for my job application package, I once again tackle the difficult question of “what the hell do I want?”

The possible future paths my life can take overwhelm me. I like to have a clear vision, and I’m simply unable to generate one now. I can isolate a few aspects of life that I want, but placing them into a specific context, I draw a big question mark. Further thinking about how to balance professional with personal life goals makes the future a limitless, unsolvable equation.

One issue I have is the degree to which my two professional choices are mutually exclusive; qualitatively I can do everything I professionally want in either, but quantitatively there are big differences. In one career I could work on the thing that I am most passionate about, and find deeply, truly fulfilling and pleasurable. This is the aspect of my research that people most associate me with, the stuff that comes easily and naturally, and in many ways, my so-called calling in life. Yet this is the area of my research that I refer to as my ‘secondary specialisation’. I want to be the world’s leading expert in this area and, already in the top ten and still under 40, I have the potential to be just that. But the actual job for doing exclusively this doesn’t exist yet, and maybe never will. Furthermore, if it did, I would be giving up most of my primary research, and all the hard work I’ve done to establish myself even a little bit in my field; thus I consider my passion to be a secondary specialisation.

The other career path, I continue my primary research, ask the scientific questions I want to ask, find out the answers to questions that often keep me up at night trying to solve, and overall get to contribute more broadly to a challenging field. I still get to work on my passion, but it really would become a secondary specialisation, as administration, grad students, lectures and pressures to publish in high-end journals etc. would consume most of my research time and energies.

When I was finishing my PhD, I gave a seminar to the department. I had one slide introducing my ‘secondary specialisation’ and the rest focussed on my scientific questions. Afterwards people who were not familiar with my research came up to me and told me how passionate I was about this ‘secondary specialisation’. I asked how they could tell with such limited discussion of it, and they said “your eyes lit up when you talked about it’. Okay, so why am I fighting it? Why not work the rest of my life on my passion? Why sacrifice the ability to work the rest of my life on my passion? Well, I have ego. I spent many years in a degrading job, being treated as worthless and having people expect very little of me. I still feel I need to prove to myself I'm not a loser. Career path two is more prestigious. Career path two is more likely to bring me geographically closer to family and friends (though still unlikely). And what’s more, career path two is the harder path. If I opt out of career path two will I always wonder whether I was good enough?

I do not play well with others

So, I’ve never been an academic lackey before. I know it’s strange to say that at the post-doc stage, but my grad career was a bit atypical. Sure I’ve done more work than what was expected of me for little-to-no recognition, but it has always been by choice; I’ve never been asked or expected to. In my previous stages I’ve typically been the PI of my own project, tagging names of supervisors on papers that they may or may not have read, edited, or commented on. But I’ve always come up with my own hypotheses (stolen from the literature, of course), designed my own experiments, carried out the experiment, analysed the data, and wrote the manuscript. I’m used to handing over a complete manuscript formatted for the journal I plan to submit to and telling my supervisor when I want his comments back. Okay, I’m not quite that blatantly bossy about it, as I usually let them know how the progress is going and try to coincide the delivery of the manuscript on their desk with a time when they are available to read it. But overall, this scheme has worked well for me, and them.

The current situation is the complete opposite. I am working on other people’s projects or having students run with my ideas. I have other people’s old data (and methods – ugh) and I’ve been trying to plow through and save an experiment that hasn’t seen the light of day for years. Then, just when it almost touches the surface, my advisor is writing to colleagues telling them I’ll have a rough draft by tomorrow. Um, it’s not ready. “Working draft, working draft…we understand”, he says.

I’m not sure they do understand though. I do actually have a full working draft written, that’s not the problem; the problem is that I’ve never had anyone see the little man behind the curtain before (a.k.a. my brain in action). I’m not brilliant, and I play with ideas and data in ways that are wrong until I figure that out and move on to what’s right. That’s why I typically work on projects for months before telling someone, giving the illusion that it was quick and easy for me. Now all that is going to be ruined by exposing myself to people who are smarter than me. I guess my biggest issue - as in life – is my issue with ‘control’. I like the comfort of my own control. I rarely to do as I’m told, and mostly do what I want, when I want. My justification is that other people may be ‘correct’, but my actions are ‘right’ for me. However, in the end, I still want to please new advisor, but being subservient to him makes me fight the rising “fuck you” in my heart.

Actual video footage

Lost it. I’ve completely lost it. Somewhere in my recent life shift I can’t find major parts of my existence. I’m not just talking about snow pants and a camera cord, even though I can’t find those either; somehow I lost a whole email conversation with a colleague. I get an email from him, after he received the returned samples I sent, saying “Did you look at them?” I remember writing a whole detailed, (and very, very interesting, I might add) email to him with my findings and asking whether I could use some of the information. Did I dream it? Am I crazy? Is he crazy? Did I send that weird email off to someone else? Did I press ‘Delete’ rather than ‘Send’? (I do that). Did I write it at all?!!! Not only is this email conversation gone, but so are the previous ones: our initial contact, our agreement for the conditions of my services, my apology for not replying sooner as I was switching labs, my new contact information…I’ve checked all the folders of all four of my email accounts (too much! I know), and there is no record of ever having contact with this guy.

Okay, so it got lost in the shuffle. I can accept that, I’m mellow and easy-going (ha). But now I have to email him back saying ‘yes I looked at them, and I swear I wrote to you months ago, but I’m a complete ditz and can’t actually remember, but you trust my diagnosis right?” It also doesn’t help that I’ve had this package on my desk for three months now, meaning to send it back. Not very professional.

I’ll get over it. What I did find though, in the bowels of my archived emails, were conversations with my current advisor before he became my current advisor. Those are embarrassing! I hope he’s deleted them. And on a completely separate, rambling thought, I’ve also realised lately (as Xmas and the inevitable Xmas parties are fast approaching, which for my department is apparently a time to embarrass your co-workers), that he has footage of me in the field acting like a crazy woman. In my defence, other than BEING a crazy woman, I was trying to outsmart mosquitoes while eating a sandwich. Of course you can't see the mosquitoes, you had to be there, so it's just a video of me running around in a circle, waving my arms, and eating a sandwich. Huh.

Objects in life are closer than they appear

This week PhD comics introduced postdocs to their story line; quite aptly having them hovering in an after-life, purgatory-like state waiting to be called forward into academic positions. But post-doc’ing isn’t the after-life, it’s more like a pre-life. We are here, taking it day-by-day, waiting for our lives to begin. I look at my advisor’s life (remember we are the same age) and think how different our existences are. He’s married, has a kid, a house, a yard, a hybrid, probably even furniture in his house. I know he bought drapes the other week. Contrast with my life: I left my man, my car, my cat, sold all my furniture, moved here with two suitcases of books. For me, post-doc’ing is more of an inter-life. I had a life, I rather liked it, but gave it all up to post-doc and now I’m trying to get back to it.

This past Monday, my advisor again asked the ill-fated question about the quality of my weekend, to which I replied “good”. He commented on my different response, genuinely looking happy for me, and asked if I had ‘gotten out socialising’. Ha! It cracks me up to think he still thinks I’m normal. No, no socialising, just me. Two days of not speaking, living inside my head, going for runs, surfing the net, reading papers, and cleaning house. It was good.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not entirely unhappy. I do miss certain aspects of my old life, but am also excited to be having this new experience. I think because the post-doc is so transitory, so uncertain, I find myself looking forward mostly, and thus not really thinking about or trying to get settled here. I wonder what my next life will be like. If there is anything I know about my life, it’s that I have no idea where it will lead. I never thought I would be here; or that last place; or the place before it. I do know that I want an orange Vespa in my next life though.

All you can hope for as a postdoc (2)

I’m applying for a position of Assistant Professor at a small university. Like everything else in my life, I have mixed feelings about this. Firstly, being a small university, it seems to lack adequate funding, grad student enrollment and general resources. On the other hand, I’m used to that. Secondly, the university is located in a town I’ve never been to (I had to Google map it), and not sure I would ever want to live in. Huh. Thirdly, there is a small probability that another job I’ve had my eye on will open up around the same time as the proposed start date of this position. But there is no guarantee this other position will be made available, nor that I would be hired for it (but I likely would be, IF it came available). Huh.

But, I am excited about the possibility that I would be competitive for this job and the opportunity to contribute to many aspects of a possibly impoverished Department. Furthermore, being a small university, I wouldn’t be redundant or overly specialised. I can envision the new courses I would develop and teach, summer field programs I could be involved with, and collaborations I could initiate. That’s exciting. I also have a soft spot for being the underdog.

On the personal side, I desire a permanent position and to make more money (ugh, who am I?). I seek an academic position for my own ego’s sake and I am terrified I will never get a real job, have to drop out of research, and will slip into oblivion among my peers (eeew, when did I get like this?). My insecurities kick-in further when I think that maybe I’m not competitive for this position and I really won’t ever get a job in my field. Then, of course my emotions swing over to the other side and I wonder whether I’m selling myself short applying for a position that’s not really very prestigious, and good old EGO tells me to hold off and shoot higher. I finally fall into an emotionally frozen, coma-like, rocking-foetal-position state where I don’t want to think about it, don’t want to deal with it, just want to hide in the lab and generate data. Postdoc'ing sucks.

All you can hope for as a postdoc

I was at yet another conference this past weekend, and it reminded me that some academic circles make me feel happier than others. I do know what I want to do with this career, and while it’s a pretty tight niche, I have many people who are on my side supporting me.

I guess I’ve been unhappy lately partly because I’ve felt like I’m not respected for my skills. I’m not sure where this came from, other than it has happened historically to me. Sometimes there can be such a snobismus with respect to what you do in academia and how you’ve come to do it. Like academic lineages for example; ‘Oh, you were so-and-so’s grad student!’ or being theoretical vs. applicable. Being someone who put myself through Uni with a night job and lab tech’ed through grad school, I’m not much of a snob. I believe that hard work and good ideas, and a certain amount of luck will get you through in the end, but you know, I’m not completely right. It will get ME through in the end, but others clearly have alternative lifestyle strategies, like student who spend more time complaining to Profs about their grade than studying for the exam. But that's them.

Tomorrow I meet with my advisor and tell him how bored and frustrated I am. But it’s good, I’m over the emotion associated with being bored and frustrated and now it’s just time to get a move on with my life and this postdoc. I actually feel almost back to normal. I was invited for coffee last week by another new-ish postdoc, and that was a welcome break; a chance to hear someone else say all the things that have been going through my head. Tomorrow we have a guest speaker who was my TA back in undergrad. It’s starting to feel like I have a history in this biz. It feels good; dug in.

Damn all you other female scientist bloggers that broke my rose coloured glasses!

A few blogs ago I questioned whether I would recognise sexual discrimination if/when I saw it. Well, I’ve spent all week trying to rationalise a situation so as not to accept that it may indeed be sexual discrimination. But I haven’t come up with a scenario that would make the situation acceptable in my mind. And that sucks.

Here is the situation:
I reviewed a manuscript this summer, which recently came back to me for re-review. With the revised manuscript also came a paper trail of my comments, second reviewer’s comments, subject editor comments, rejection letter, and author’s comments on reviewer suggestions etc. In the rejection letter from the editor the corresponding author was addressed as “Dear Miss So-and-so”.

“Odd” I thought, as I’ve only ever been addressed as “Dr.”, even when I was known by the editor to be a grad student. But, my moment of “huh, that’s odd” quickly turned into “Oh, that’s not good” when I went to the next page, the author’s reply, which was clearly addressed from “Dr. Female Professor”.

My first instinct was to think it was a mistake, an oversight, an embarrassing gaffe by the editor. Then, I doubted my own experience and wondered whether the term “Dr.” was overused as a courtesy to me when I was a wee young thing. But that didn’t make any sense, because this person wasn’t a grad student, she is clearly a faculty member with a Ph.D.

And that’s where I sit now. I’m dragging my heels on the re-review because not only do I have to re-reject the manuscript, I also have to write something to the editor that addresses his ‘oversight’ without placing myself in a situation where I am seen as overly reactionary. I can’t ignore it because it’s simply unacceptable and inappropriate. Even if it were a male prof who was addressed as “Mr.” it would be unacceptable. But it’s more than that…it was “Miss”, not “Ms.”, but “Miss”. It might as well have been addressed “Dear Little Girl…please stop wasting our time with your silly little research and go find a husband.”

Suggestions?

A few things to think about

First off, I’m feeling old again this week, and I started thinking about all the things I want to accomplish in life. So, I started a list of goals to fulfil before I’m 40. It’s a sucky, sucky list. It’s the same things that have been on every New Years list for the past 10 years! (namely things like 10 acres on an island and other stuff that require having a real job), but one thing I put on the list was 40 publications before I’m 40. It’s a little ambitious, but that’s okay, I thrive on setting high goals.

But with this, I realised that the research I’m doing isn’t going to yield any publications anytime soon. I came into this postdoc to work in association with an ongoing project; a project I am really excited to be apart of, but not one which will have any quick returns (think year 1 of a 4 year field study). On one level, I’m really okay with that, it’s the nature of my work and I know that the resulting data and publications will be worth the wait. But the flip side is that postdoc positions these days seem to be meant for pumping-out as many publications are humanly (or otherwise) possible, and moving on to a permanent position without getting caught in postdoc-purgatory.

So, what to do, what to do. Well, my first instinct is to start working on other projects, but this is the first time in my career that I’m not self-funded and I feel that since I’m being paid by the man, I should work for the man (at least 9am-5pm). And I guess that brings me to my next ‘thing’. It’s so hard to build momentum in a new project, and I feel like I’m still dragging my last research project with me everywhere I go. I’m still travelling to conferences and presenting my old research, working on old manuscripts, and generally spending time not doing my current research. Should I feel bad about this?

And lastly, should I be applying for real jobs? Of course I should! Positions which are remotely close to what I do come up so infrequently, I should respond to any postings that are applicable, especially ones that are geographically in places I wouldn’t mind living in. But I’m scared, and I’m tired, and I’m just not ready. I just got here. I want to sink my teeth into this new project…I just applied for funding on a really kick-ass proposal…I’m excited about working with my advisor and his students…and I still have so much I want to learn from these people.

Who knows. Unfortunately, 3 months into a postdoc position and I'm already in purgatory. At least I still have email though.

I’m younger than my briefcase

In light of my recent mental state, I thought I would tell you about my briefcase. I don’t know the entire history of the case, other than it existed before I was born, and on the day I was born, it attended University to write a final exam in Spanish literature.

Twenty-five years later, the case went to night school to upgrade high school chemistry. Within ten years, the case had attended two community colleges and two universities, and obtained three degrees including a PhD. This weekend the case arrived via Greyhound, and Monday morning it joined me at my new Uni for a postdoc. The case is nothing if not persevering.

F*%@ you to all those who thought the case wouldn’t make it. (you know who you are)

I apologize for the profanity. Too much Hallowe’en candy - gets me riled up. That, and gossip from old Uni. But, I’m actually glad about being pissed off. I find it’s really motivational and usually followed by a period of great productivity; on several occasions I’ve succeeded just to spite someone else (like when I quit smoking – ah, good times). It may not be the healthiest of attitudes, but it works. I’ve had a few crossroads where significant people in my life didn’t want to see me succeed, and those times all resulted in me becoming a stronger person, even when I wasn’t sure myself that I had the strength to carry on.

Or maybe it’s the presence of my briefcase? Regardless, I’d like to thank all the wonderful, supportive people in my life for being wonderful, supportive people. (you know who you are)

Starting over

I’ve recently started at a new University, which has a completely different culture from my last Uni. I feel like I’m a barnyard kitten someone has brought into the house: I have no idea what is appropriate and what furniture I can sit on.

I guess I can excuse myself for needing a few weeks to get myself into powerhouse mode, since I did just leave my entire life to start a new one, but I always forget how hard it is to start from scratch and gain that momentum. I remember my first year after the last career phase shift – it was the worst year of my life. I was so depressed some days I lay in bed thinking about dropping out, wondering how I was going to struggle through it all. But I did, and I survived, and I thrived. And I will again.

Tonight I went to the movies after work for a change from my usual routine of Home-Uni-Home-Uni-Home-Uni…you get the idea. The movie was okay, I wasn’t moved by the actors, or riveted by the plot, but it didn’t offend me with stupidity, so it was okay. And, in fact, I did get something out of it. In my blasé-ness for the characters, I left the theatre feeling pretty good about my life. I may not be doing wild and crazy, exciting, dramatic things on a day-to-day basis, but overall I’m no Lucy Jordan (reference to Marianne Faithfull song). I’m living in this new, vibrant city. I’m doing a postdoc in a great lab. I travel to conferences and I love what I do for a living. I won’t be here forever, and while the uncertainty of not knowing when and where I’ll end up is painful at times, it’s also exciting, and one day in my next new life, I’ll fondly reminisce about the time I had here.

Closet full of collared shirts

Every Monday morning, my advisor stops by the lab and asks how my weekend was. I dread it. His seemingly innocent, if not downright nice, inquiry into my life only serves to make me feel like more of the workaholic loser that I am. The only difference between my weekends and my non-weekends is that I wear a t-shirt to work on weekends, rather than a button up collared shirt (hey, I can be wild and crazy!).

So, how to answer the dreaded question? Smile…say ‘good’…nod your head a few times…change the topic.

Lately I’ve been dreaming about work; writing a review paper, setting-up an experiment with my honour's student, and giving the same presentation over and over again. They aren’t stressful dreams, I’m not panicking and they aren’t nightmares, but I wake tired and disappointed that I didn’t get any of the work I was dreaming about done. What’s also frustrating is that it all came so easy in my dream. Last night the entire introduction to my paper was perfectly laid out in front of me, but reverted to that shapeless thought-bubble of an idea when I awoke.

It’s hard to describe the thought-bubble process. My ideas first come to me as shapes in my mind. I spend some time, turning them around, getting an idea of what shape they are, and which end might be up. I then go to the literature to find supporting ideas that best fit and fill-out this thought-bubble, but it’s like a giant 3-D jigsaw where not all ideas fit together, and not all ideas are supported or available in the literature. This is when I get most excited, when I can see how much empty space exists in the bubble, because empty space means ‘me’, it means innovation and my contribution to the topic.

But the thought-bubble process is also frustrating and sometimes embarrassing in those first painful stages. Sometimes I don’t even know what it is I’m thinking about yet. And when asked to bring these ideas to the table, literally, like at lab meetings and such, I have nothing to say, because I can hardly get up and describe my ideas through a series of mime-gestures.

I’m older than my advisor

I was talking with a prominent professor in my department the other day over lunch at a meeting we were both attending. We hadn’t met before (I’m a newbie in the department), and we were talking about the instability and unpredictability of life during the postdoc stage. I’m sure he was trying to be supportive, but not realizing how (um) old I actually am, was telling me his story of how his first permanent position didn’t happen ‘til he was 39. Not reassuring for me at 36 (and a half), starting a postdoc.

On top of that, I woke up the other morning, and the whole world had changed. It wasn’t a tangible change; things were just different. I woke up and I was old. Well, I wasn’t old, but everyone else my age was old.

And I started to think, maybe I should get married? Would that make me look more serious, more professional? Would that increase my chances of getting a real job before I’m 40? Would that make me look normal?

Age is a funny thing.
My advisor is a month younger than I am, and I like to tease him about that. But truth is, we are both immature and goofy, and on the verge of having midlife crises. He’s been talking about motorbikes lately; I’m thinking I shouldn’t have sold my skateboard. But who are we kidding; how bloody ridiculous would either of us look on a bike or a skateboard?

Will I ever feel like an adult?
Is that the curse of our generation?