Nein developments

I met with my professor last week, you know, the one who is now singularly responsible for my future success or failure in life. And...turns out my "plan" going in was exactly the same as my plan coming out. Still going to try for the whole PhD thing, looking to break into the land of the nebbish, to teach new mini nebbishes how to research themselves into total obscurity. I do feel better about the whole prospect though, having had my ego stroked by yet another authority figure ("Of course I think you're capable of writing a wonderful dissertation"=nerd pillowtalk), as well as getting some insight into how the first few years might go if I manage to find someone silly enough to hire me. Apparently it's awful, but I actually flourish under complaint-worthy conditions; I'm kind of like the depressed version of Freddy Kruger that way, feeding on dissatisfaction instead of fear.

There's also the option of just starting a dissertation and never finishing it, thus allowing myself the loophole of perpetual studentdom. This will only work if I can convince myself to give up my natural fear-of-fail-derived work ethic and begin to see my life not as an opportunity for excellence, but rather as something to be held at arms' length. Turns out I'm in good company; check this out, from William Wordsworth's 8,000-line poetic monstrosity, "The Prelude":

"...many books

Were skimmed, devoured, or studiously perused.

But with no settled plan. I was detached

Internally from academic cares, 

From every hope of prowess and reward,

And wished to be a lodger in that house

Of letters, and no more."

And, I mean, that worked out for him, right? I'm suffering through the ego trip of a man who claims to have no goals other than pure communion with nature, so maybe by giving up on my material goals of professional success and acclaim, I too can live on to irritate unfortunate scholars 200 years from now. 

So that's the "plan." I am going to do just well enough to get into a PhD program of my choice and then squat a library carrel for the next forty or fifty years. Occasionally I will venture out for booze or cheese fries, but then, gopher-like, I shall scurry back to my den of books. Yay for professional development!