A life of meaning

The one skill I've learned and continue to learn in grad school is how to solve problems. The problem with having been in grad school as long as I have is that when you start to become unhappy, your brain starts thinking about how to solve this problem, and you begin to realize that you do have choices. To a large extent, it is this realization that there are choices that further contributes to feeling unhappy.

I've developed my problem solving skills in a very particular context (addressing interface problems and usability issues), yet I think there's something structurally different about how my brain works now. When I see something, I think about the problems it has, and then my brain starts churning out possible solutions by relaxing various constraints. My brain is surprisingly adept at this -- possibly a consequence of always trying to find shortcuts in my earlier years. In this sense, I'm very good at free association -- I really think I'd be Freud's wet dream.

Without question, there are lulls during a PhD. Often during these lulls, you start to get unhappy, because, as we've discussed before, your progress slows. During my most recent spells in these lulls, I've thought a lot about how to make myself happy. What structural life changes could I make that would make me happy? A common thought during these times is to get a job instead of continuing this endless, (sometimes seemingly) mindless research work. Invariably, this makes me consider whether money makes me happy. I've never actually been convinced one way or another.

What is it about the PhD? Is it the work? Is it the lack of money? Is it the self-doubt, self-loathing... the endless need to question the work that is done, both by others and by oneself? That last question doesn't even address what happens when you come to the tentative conclusion that all that you've done is bunk.

I am reassured by a conversation my friend once had with a well-known researcher in the field.

Student: Whenever I publish, I feel a little bit like a fraud. I'm always afraid of being found out.
Famous Researcher: That feeling never goes away. I'm always afraid of being found out, too.

Wait. Is that reassuring? Somehow, that reeks of tell-tale heart, doesn't it?

Is continuing the best thing to do? Is this the best place to be? Did we just give up somewhere along the way and settle? Or did we decide not to sell out to the man? Did others really sell out?

Funny how Linderman was right. Maybe Machiavellianism, in its simplicity, is less about detachment and cynicism, and more a matter of emotional survival that frees us from self-doubt.