FACT: I have too many hobbies.
That is, I have enough hobbies, if I wanted to achieve excellence in one, I would have to sacrifice the rest. But I need these; I call them my sanity, because they each speak to a different, deeper, emotional part of me than my research does. Both my femininity and feminism are satisfied with bellydance, knitting, and crocheting, but bellydance also speaks to my soul, while knitting and crocheting satisfy my desire to create something useful and lovely. Scottish country dance fills my need for roots and culture and community. Music provides an outlet for emotions, and both it and cartooning provide me a release for when words fail me. Maille draws together my desire to create something physical, my love of jewelry, and my interest in the Middle Ages. Baking? I like to feed people. It makes me feel good. A primal pleasure, if you will. As for creative writing, that is my place where I can pour all of me, at once, into a story that can take me out of the present. But these are simply too many hobbies to obtain excellence in. I would be happy with “good” in any of these, but at times, I feel like even “mediocre” is a struggle.(1)
FACT: I am a full-time student, doing a doctorate by research.
This is another reason my hobbies struggle. Excellence should be a “must” for this, but more importantly, I want it to be excellent. I love my subject(2) and I love my research. As I also greatly admire my supervisors and adore everyone else who has supported me on this life-path (3), I owe it to them to achieve excellence. But being a PhD student isn’t just about research and writing—it’s also about developing a place in the academic community. This means attending seminars and conferences, and starting this next year it means teaching, too. Now, I love every bit of this—seminars and conferences remind me that I’m not alone in my “academic addiction”, and I am ridiculously excited to exposing undergrads to the wonderful world of thought that I live in. But with time spent on these… there goes hobby time.
QUESTION: Can my hobbies and my research ever be equally valued?
A few weeks back, I was at a lovely friend’s leaving ‘do, where I was chatting with a friend of hers that I hadn’t met. When said person discovered that I study literature, he asked, “So do you write?”
For the first time ever, this rather common question took me aback. I was baffled. I’ve been asked this before, but mostly in undergrad, when I was specifically an English major (and, yes, was double-minoring in Creative Writing and the closest I could get to Medieval Studies). But this time, I had specifically mentioned that I studied medieval literature.
I hesitantly responded, “Well, of course I write academically, but—”
“No, no, I mean like stories,” he clarified.
“Oh, well yes, I do that—in fact, I’m in charge of a writing group—”
And the conversation continued on, but my mind was elsewhere. I was surprised with myself. When I was in undergrad, I would have automatically assumed that he referred to fiction writing. But now, with research absorbing me day-in-day-out, with hanging out with my medievalists friends (which at times involves wonderfully long discussions on etymology), with considering myself a budding academic, I felt ignored, disregarded, and shamed. Wasn’t it enough that I wrote academically? Do I have to write fiction, too, to be interesting? Is the fiction writer interesting, but the study of their work boring?
I wish that Barthes’ Death of the Author was thicker, because I would feel less hyperbolic saying I wanted to beat someone with it.
FACT: My life feels like a constant war between art and academia.
That example above spawned this whole entry, and indeed a much-needed rebirth of LysseBird. I’ll be exploring the tug-of-war between all my arts and my research interests (which are as wide as the former, and are only temporarily narrowed by the focus of my doctorate). I will try to abstain from being too theoretical or philosophical, though you’ve probably already noticed how “high” my language gets when I’m thinking academically. I’ll try not to get hoity-toity. I want this to be a grounded, insightful journey. However, knowing me, there’ll probably be a lot of squeeing along the way; I get ridiculously excited about my interests. What can I say? I’m enthusiastic. There will still be logs of completed craft projects, but now there will be whining about research difficulty. There will be glee about academic achievements and discoveries alongside frustrations over my arts. Hopefully, there may even eventually be some knitting or crochet patterns or bellydance videos—if I can rise to either of those goals, I’ve achieved my “good” in those areas. But I really don’t want to be pretentious. Verbally whack me if that starts to happen, OK?
So welcome to all newcomers who read this, and welcome back to those who have been around for the very shaky beginning this past year has been. I know what direction I want to take this blog in now.
Welcome to LysseBird: Arts vs. Academia.
(1) However, I am notoriously hard on myself. I think my self-judgment has improved in the past few years to a level closer to what some folks call “reality”, but that remains to be seen.
(2) Medieval literature; more details forthcoming.
(3) It’s a looooong list.
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