The Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Dissertation

It’s been awhile since I’ve “blogged.” And I’m not even sure I have readers anymore. But, I need a bit of a rant, and why not put it out into the abyss that is the world wide web.

I was blessed to get my prospectus done, defended, and passed in February. I look to be right on schedule according to my department’s setup. And instead of going into an immediate depression like so many of my other colleagues, I began typing almost immediately. I now have 20 pages of crap on my “Chapter 4″–my immigration narrative chapter. At moments, it has seemed to write itself, and I have been excited that my overkill of ideas were falling into place quite easily and seamlessly.

…until I was told to look at Zizek…

Next thing I know, I’m looking at and writing about Hegel, Shiller, Kant, Trilling (not by choice!). And my diss has slowly started to spiral out into the land of “everything is connected” and “all theories, past and present, has to do with my dissertation.” Ack. My dissertation is now some monster that must solve the meaning of “life” (both mere life and, as Zizek says, “a life worth living”). I can’t help but want to hit something now, and this all distinctly occurred the moment I picked up Welcome to the Desert of the Real…

And, now, the depression has arrived. The overwhelming task of a dissertation is butting up against the complete uselessness of what I do. I mean, in literature studies, we might be lucky if we have 5 people ever read our stuff, and at the end of the day, anything I have to say about “life” has already been said. So the sheer “uselessness” of what we do manifests from the little chance that this will have any effect on the world (the world of academia, specifically–I’m not idealist enough to think my work will ever move beyond the walls of the ivory tower).

Yet, every morning, I make coffee and sit down at my computer and type for a least 3 hours, spiralling out into grand questions and grand ideas that make me feel like I might have picked the wrong career here. That if I wanted to consider the meaning of life, I would have done religion. That if I wanted to work out why immigration is a “problem,” I would have gone into government policy-making or non-profit rights organizing. But instead, I’m writing a dissertation that doesn’t even seem to have a focused topic anymore. And, yes, I totally blame Zizek.

~ by vinatabapeche on April 12, 2009.