January 21, 1997
Write: 2. To be regularly employed or occupied in writing, copying, or accounting; to act as clerk or amanuensis; as, he writes in one of the public offices. --Webster's Dictionary
regularly: adverb, 1. in a regular manner. 2. at regular times or intervals
employed: past tense of employ, verb
transitive, 3. to provide work and pay for; 4. to engage the
services or labor of; hire.
noun, the state of being employed; paid service.
occupied: past tense of occupy, verb transitive, 4. to employ, busy, or engage [oneself].
in: preposition 11. engaged or occupied by
writing: noun, 6. the profession or occupation of a writer, 7. the art, practice, style or form of literary composition
copying: verb, 1. to make a a copy or copies (of a piece of writing, etc.); reproduce; transcribe.
accounting: noun, 1. the system, art, or science of keeping, analyzing, and explaining commercial accounts.
clerk: noun, 1. a layman who has certain minor duties in a church -- yeah yeah I know this isn't the meaning intended in the definition above but I thought it was cool
amanuensis: noun, a person who takes dictation or copies something already written - yes I realize I spelled this wrong in a previous entry and no I still don't know how to form the plural.
So let's see, I have been hired to write and paid for it, been engaged or occupied in it, made copies of it, but the regular intervals part throws me off. I still get royalty checks every six months, so I guess that counts a regularly... So for the moment I can call myself a writer.
But the new question is when can I start to call myself an oceanographer?
I drove over to Umass Lowell today to pick up my textbook for Introduction to Oceans, which starts tomorrow night (Wednesday). I found a used copy of Essentials of Oceanography, thus saving myself $7 off the exorbitant price. I loved standing in the checkout line with all these earnest young boys carrying copies of Soil Mechanics, or Hydrogeology. I was by far the oldest person in the bookstore. It remains to be seen whether I am the oldest in my class. On my way back to the car, another new student stopped me and asked the way to the bookstore. I was happy to be able to give him directions.
Will the ministry of online journals permit me to express a little anxiety about going back to school to train for a profession that does not pay well and is not exactly the hip happening field right now?
This morning on The Connection the topic was the job market - the job boom really. Jobs jobs jobs. In computers and telecommunications of all things. Gee whiz, I had to up an quit just when the field was getting hot again. So why ain't I going back? Good question. Asked my shrink that this morning. Still don't know. I do not want to be clamped to a desk. I do not want to be indoors. I am controlling the urge to step into the street, and methodically knock people's hats off. Call me Ishmael.
Burnout, loss of passion for the work, decreased tolerance for er umm the discomforts of the workplace. You have to love something to spend 12 hours a day 6 days a week doing it and I don't love computers, tech writing, quality assurance, or middle management that much. And I definitely don't love the upper reaches of middle management that much - not to mention not having the requisite anatomical parts to be a vice president... Oh darn I can't say that I'll provoke the postfeminists. I'll provoke the feminists. Oh hell, the legislative body of online journals can interpellate me about my position on the glass ceiling any time. You can see through it and so not believe it's there until you bump against it. You can take seriously all the other excuses the members of the club give you about why you're "not ready yet" but sooner or later you'll realize the problem isn't you...
I have the urge to go back and delete the preceding paragraph. I really have the urge to go back and delete it. But I'm going to let it stand. Maybe. To delete or not to delete? Am I claiming victim status to say I bumped up against the glass ceiling and woke up to the fact that I didn't want to be there anyway? The coyote claiming the grapes are sour because it can't reach 'em? No, I don't think so. What I discovered in myself after a long time of soul searching triggered by dealing with so much death in my family was a deep need to do something that matters. To do something my heart is in. Somewhere along the line I got the idea that one had to go where the jobs are, where the money is, where the career path is... and that one owed it to somebody or other to stick it out in the face of obstacles. Hitting the glass ceiling was the best thing that ever happened to me. I was forced to confront my work addiction, my true values, my lame excuses and denial. One can be damn good at something and it still may not be the thing one was meant to do. Oh, shut up, Janet. Get back to oceanography.
oceanography: noun, the branch of geography dealing
with the ocean
oceanographer: noun, a student of, or specialist in,
oceanography
So I guess I can start calling myself an oceanographer instead of a writer. That way the tools of deconstructionist post modern litcrit don't apply. If it's written by an oceanographer instead of an author, accountant, clerk, or amanuensis, it's not writing by some combination of definitions ... just permute those definitions and you can get an infinite variety...
I also finally made phone contact with the guy from Save the Harbor, Save the Bay and discussed working with him on the marine mammal survey of Boston Harbor. He says the next trip depends on the weather but will probably be within the next ten days. Then maybe I can really say I'm an oceanographer.
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Lots of ice |
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one other birder |
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and a really cold wind |
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Barrington:
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