How big is this Field?
Am close to finishing the anthology of Stephen Jay Gould's best writing - "The Richness of Life", and it has been a deeply fulfilling read. Gould and Dawkins can both be described as great intellects (though it's a title much abused and too liberally awarded). Yet I find Gould that much more appealing as a person and writer, with his languid, almost meandering storytelling that dips into art history and religious architecture, but somehow rounds back into evolutionary theory to the resounding applause of the reader.
With the topics Gould deals with, there is a lot out there to be angry about; bigotry, racism, the perversion of science. But Gould manages not to sound angry (which seems to be Dawkins' main operating mode). Instead there is a deep sense of reflection: sometimes sad, sometimes mischievous, always interesting. And there is a great joy that pervades every essay. Joy at mucking about looking at snails, joy at turning over the stones of legend (rather than exploding any myths), joy at his predecessors' joy (Darwin really liked his worms)... etc etc etc. With Gould, one feels that there is always something worth exploring, or in the absence of new information, sifting through the old and finding new angles.
Which sort of brings me to the main idea of this entry. Whether it's a hammer or a computer or a blank sheet of paper, they're just the tools of one's work. They are not the Field. Personally, I forget this now and then, which leads me to the occasional demoralised moment. It's true that broken tools make work a lot harder - I challenge anyone to map with a damaged compass (which could be far worse than no compass at all!) - but the compass and the map are not the goal. Describing the land first, and next using that description to build an idea, is.
Just a note to self, then, not to confuse the structures of one's profession with the landscape of interest.
Speaking of broken tools, though, I was lately contacted by my former employer about an unfinished report they would like me to complete. This had always been a side project - I stepped in as the previous person had left - and it had never been a priority even when I gave notice.
Rather unfortunately, they've lately been harangued for the report and have asked Previous Person (who has since returned to them) to deal with it. Still more unfortunately, Previous Person was led to believe that I left in a great hurry owing them multiple items, when in truth I stayed for 3 extra months to help them get through a major presentation, catalogued huge swathes of data before I left, and continued to help train the student who would be taking over certain tasks.
So here is the multilemma; do I make good on my offer to help? Do I devote weekends to a report which will end up gathering dust on a certain agency's shelf, and risk taking the blame for the overall poor quality of the report when I add my name to it? Do I do this because Previous Person's rear is on the line, or do I leave it on the back burner... indefinitely?
Sometimes I wonder if I wasn't frank enough with them on why I left in the first place. Perhaps better late than never.
Still, it may come to down to the simple facts:
1) I don't work for them
2) I literally have more important things to do, snide as it sounds, and it doesn't include blogging
3) I don't carry around racks of specialist software with me
4) I don't work for them
What makes me most aggrieved is that I will always associate this episode with small-mindedness and blame-shifting, when it never needed to have been so, and will always wonder if I am being small-minded too.
Oh, the vicious circle of poor employee retention, and I say this sincerely, because we can't escape this problem in my current workplace either.
And with this, I close the vent.
With the topics Gould deals with, there is a lot out there to be angry about; bigotry, racism, the perversion of science. But Gould manages not to sound angry (which seems to be Dawkins' main operating mode). Instead there is a deep sense of reflection: sometimes sad, sometimes mischievous, always interesting. And there is a great joy that pervades every essay. Joy at mucking about looking at snails, joy at turning over the stones of legend (rather than exploding any myths), joy at his predecessors' joy (Darwin really liked his worms)... etc etc etc. With Gould, one feels that there is always something worth exploring, or in the absence of new information, sifting through the old and finding new angles.
Which sort of brings me to the main idea of this entry. Whether it's a hammer or a computer or a blank sheet of paper, they're just the tools of one's work. They are not the Field. Personally, I forget this now and then, which leads me to the occasional demoralised moment. It's true that broken tools make work a lot harder - I challenge anyone to map with a damaged compass (which could be far worse than no compass at all!) - but the compass and the map are not the goal. Describing the land first, and next using that description to build an idea, is.
Just a note to self, then, not to confuse the structures of one's profession with the landscape of interest.
Speaking of broken tools, though, I was lately contacted by my former employer about an unfinished report they would like me to complete. This had always been a side project - I stepped in as the previous person had left - and it had never been a priority even when I gave notice.
Rather unfortunately, they've lately been harangued for the report and have asked Previous Person (who has since returned to them) to deal with it. Still more unfortunately, Previous Person was led to believe that I left in a great hurry owing them multiple items, when in truth I stayed for 3 extra months to help them get through a major presentation, catalogued huge swathes of data before I left, and continued to help train the student who would be taking over certain tasks.
So here is the multilemma; do I make good on my offer to help? Do I devote weekends to a report which will end up gathering dust on a certain agency's shelf, and risk taking the blame for the overall poor quality of the report when I add my name to it? Do I do this because Previous Person's rear is on the line, or do I leave it on the back burner... indefinitely?
Sometimes I wonder if I wasn't frank enough with them on why I left in the first place. Perhaps better late than never.
Still, it may come to down to the simple facts:
1) I don't work for them
2) I literally have more important things to do, snide as it sounds, and it doesn't include blogging
3) I don't carry around racks of specialist software with me
4) I don't work for them
What makes me most aggrieved is that I will always associate this episode with small-mindedness and blame-shifting, when it never needed to have been so, and will always wonder if I am being small-minded too.
Oh, the vicious circle of poor employee retention, and I say this sincerely, because we can't escape this problem in my current workplace either.
And with this, I close the vent.