Vinaya asked for a new post yesterday. I suspect this isn’t what she was looking for, but this is my blog, right?

I’ve thought a lot about where I want to say this. My first idea was to vent it directly at the group of people concerned, but they’ve made their indifference quite clear – there’s no point, then. I considered throwing it at a larger body of which they’re a part, in the hope that some remorse may be induced by peer pressure. But again, what’s the point? That kind of remorse doesn’t change behaviour, and there’s the danger that the message gets lost in the static. (Really, T.) So I send up a prayer to “grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change“, and come here for the comfort of black-on-white. To use my wailing wall, so that I can continue to talk, and work, without turning into a raving hysteric.

The past few weeks have seen blow after blow to my self-image. Personal and professional, but I’m talking about the latter now. I never thought this was going to be an easy career choice; I decided early on, where my rewards would lie. I couldn’t help the twinges of regret when some of the consequences of my choice were brought home, and I’m ashamed of myself for that. I could laugh about it, though, because I was secure in the knowledge that the rewards I had chosen to work for were better. Higher. I wanted them more.

Now I realise I’m not going to get all of those either. While taking a class still gives me a high, maybe it is silly to expect recognition for it. All I can hope for, all I will get, are the highs. The joy of being able to speak, to test hypotheses, to indulge in argument. But there’s a tiny portion of me (maybe a large portion, actually) that craves appreciation for all the work I do. I’ve satisfied myself that it can come only from one source, and I don’t expect it from others. But even that seems to be too much to expect.

Oh, they’re only too ready to articulate their supposed appreciation. Only too ready to comment, if they read this. Only too ready to claim they love my passion for what I do, my experimentation, my openness. But they don’t hesitate to take advantage of that openness to hit me where it hurts, either. To use that passion against me, to sabotage my experiments.

I know it’s unfair to generalise thus about all of them. I know there are exceptions. But when the papers I read, the reactions I get, are all screaming at me that most people prefer me not to do what I’m doing, to leave my creativity behind, to not bring passion and emotion to what is, after all, a job to be done, it makes me wonder. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I don’t need to do all this. Why should I, anyway? What do I get from it?

Is it worth it? Maybe it’s time to quit.


3 Responses

  1. This post has been removed by a blog administrator.

  2. This post has been removed by a blog administrator.

  3. I know. Both of you. You’re right. But I have to say it, sometimes. You know? Anyway, am deleting your comments, not a post on which I want responses!

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