It’s my first day free of final papers and in a conversation with Paulina this morning, I learned that in the process of preparing for her field statement (a requirement of our doctoral program) she started a Substack to compile her thoughts as she read books and articles. This seems like the type of gentle accountability I crave - the same form of accountability I create for myself by joining a 7am Zoom writing group and by making my roommate hide my phone in our living room so I can’t scroll through my favorite TikTok accounts.
And, at the same time, I find it absolutely horrifying to write…thoughts…that people might actually…read? My greatest fear in this life is sharing anything I’ve written with anybody (with the exception of Katie who read enough iterations of my statements of purpose that it was almost like exposure therapy). Two years ago, with a burst of late night inspiration and irritation, I wrote an essay on Jeff Bezos’s corporatization of preschools and it was accepted to a journal. Something I have only ever shared with one other person is that I never officially submitted it because I was too scared for it to go out into the world. I like to think that I’ve grown, both through general life experience and through serving as an editor with the Harvard Educational Review, but the fear remains. The, “Oh no, what if my writing causes someone to softly cringe and rethink their decision to read it?”
And, this fear leads into what might be the greatest irony of my life, that I’ve chosen to pursue a PhD. This is an experience in which you are measured and evaluated on your ideas, the skill with which you put them into writing, and your ability to have that writing critiqued endlessly, maybe accepted by a “top” journal, and achieve a high citation count - aka, being cited by others in the field, a process that systematically and consistently favors white, cis, male authors and overlooks BIPOC, particularly women and trans folks.
It wasn’t always this way - I vividly remember loving nothing more than creative writing class in fourth grade, gleefully gaming the strange Criterion grader (did anyone else’s high school use this?), and starting undergrad convinced I’d pursue journalism. But somewhere between my freshman writing seminar and the slog of final papers, anxiety overtook the joy. The dread of critique would prevent me from even writing in the first place. Almost two years into my PhD, the joy has started to return, but it’s fleeting. So, I begin these letters (journals? newsletters? essays?) as a way to capture it.
If you’ve read this far, you’ve likely heard these thoughts at some point. If you haven’t, thanks for hanging in there - I’ll wrap this up now.
My friend Sam has a lovely habit of instead of asking acquaintances, “What do you do?” asking, “How do you spend your time?” I think I particularly appreciate this reframing because the former question seems like you’re expected to answer in outputs — “I work at x, or make y” — whereas the latter prompts you to reflect, to share the moments of your days that feel most meaningful to you. And because, as a PhD student, it’s all too easy for the professional to blend with the personal to blend with the social. Currently, here’s how I spend my time:
Making very wabi sabi watercolor pen drawings to send to friends as holiday cards (kind of like these).
Playing with the newest addition to our apartment, my roommate’s very chatty and quirky ragdoll cat.
Researching how teachers-become-parents think about school discipline and relationships and writing on the history of parent organizing in Detroit schools.
Going for genius-level in the New York Times Spelling Bee.
Finding as many little old railroad/foot trails I can around Cambridge and Somerville.
Making this weekly Spotify playlist with good work/study music.
I think I’ll end each of these with a combo of things I’ve found recently and also things I’ve resisted buying (COVID quarantine induces a lot of online shopping, but I’ve reeled it in since the summer).
Getting a burr coffee grinder was definitely worth the hype, as was this cutting board. I’ve purchased these candle lighters for me and my friends in all the colors. Not a new purchase but this oil is a life saver every time the cold weather and dry skin rolls back around. I showed off these quilted pants to a Zoom room of fifty people last week. The lush lofi Spotify playlist (also a Paulina find) is amazing.
And…I will probably lurk on this candle website for months before I finally buy one. I also dream of these silk pajamas, which give me major “rich lady with deep dark secrets” vibes. I have wanted this desk for months but definitely don’t have the space in my apartment. And finally, I ate two cartons of this cinnamon ice cream in a week while visiting Katie in Vermont but they don’t sell it anywhere in Boston so alas, also not buying right now.
Till next time, when my brain has recovered enough from finals to read something new,
Abby