In her entry this morning, odalisk has mentioned two things that have been on my mind a lot lately too, although for different reasons.

First, I think odalisk is right when she says Ph.D. students seem to always have a non-academic idea percolating somewhere. Or, at least, students in the humanities, social sciences and sciences do. The mathematics and computer students seem to take out their creative urges on gaming and juggling; but, I confess, I don�t know any particularly well, so it may be that they also ponder fiction in their spare time. Although there are certainly creative aspects to academia � I�m sure that is why most of us are here � the process of obtaining one�s degree can be wearing in a way that often makes it seem like one�s creative impulses are being squelched. And I find that the more I work, the more I need a certain amount of rigor in my recreational pursuits.

To some extent this issue is why I ended up at my university instead of odalisk�s. At both interviews, I was asked about my history as a performer. At my school, I was informed that it was strongly recommended that all graduate students in music perform (but not too much). Although my department has no performance program, the act of music-making was seen as a necessary part of the whole scholar of music, something with which I fundamentally agree. After all, why study music if you are not truly involved? At Aardvark, however, I was warned to steer clear of performing, as it would take time away from my work (also a valid point). Although both schools sought to make me an excellent scholar, one seemed more interested in the whole person. The choice, for me, was obvious. [I do not mean to cast aspersions on Aardvark�s department, which is excellent. I only mean to say that it was not for me. Nor, as it happened, was I for them. I was wait-listed there, but received a good offer from my school.]

But the thing that really struck me about odalisk�s entry today was this query:

I wonder why I find the idea of writing a bad novel so embarrassing.

After all, there�s no requirement that it be shown to anyone, no expectation that it would be written for any reason but the author�s own pleasure.

This, it seems to me, is another problem that plagues graduate students, who are often held prisoner by their own competence. When you�ve been successful in a particular field for a long time, you start to become afraid of coming to the realization of your own mediocrity.

My advice to odalisk? Get over it. Easier said than done, of course. But the pleasures the release from such constraints affords are manifold. Moreover, it can actually help your academics. I struggle with these issues daily and they are the main thing that is standing between me and a finished dissertation. I keep telling myself that I just want it to be done, but really, I want it to be done AND be the best. These two categories may quite possibly be mutually exclusive.

I have been facing the same issue with AJ as I watch him try to master new skills. Like me, he is terrified of demonstrating inferior competence. Although at three and a half he�s been reading for over a year now, he still has an aversion to trying to write, mainly because when he tries it, he is dissatisfied with the results. We are not terribly worried, however. This is his modus operandi. He observes for a long time and then skills spring out fully formed. For example, he has not been particularly fond of drawing, something most of his friends could do all day long. When he does draw, he has done nothing but large scribbles. But all of a sudden, he�s drawing things. Two days ago, after nothing but scribbles, no attempts at drawing things, he drew a clearly delineated fire engine with a ladder and a smiling ghost. We were amazed, as there seemed to be no prelude.

I don�t worry about him learning what he needs to know, but I do worry that he�s agonizing over things, that he will prevent himself from trying things he will enjoy because he�s afraid of doing them wrong. I am constantly analyzing my feedback. Am I doing anything to encourage this behavior? Is he somehow aware of my own struggles? Or is it simply an innate character trait?

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