Pop quiz

The tone of this little experiment has become decidedly unscholarly. I am here to learn, dammit, and if I'm forced to do so, the rest of my readers shall likewise be educated. Therefore, a one question pop quiz:

What do you get when you combine a recent expensive trip to Paris with a long procrastinated dissertation?

Give up? So have I. The answer is: not very much. As in, I can no longer afford to do anything other than sit in my room and read 18th-century newspapers online. Which is, coincidentally, a very disconcerting experience--there you are, working your way through scanned page after scanned pages, images appearing in seconds of century-old hand-set lines of type. It feels incredibly inauthentic, and part of me wonders if I'm breaking the rules somehow...is it possible to base a research project around newspapers that you've never held? Do they still count as primary sources if I log into them the same way I do my Facebook account? It's super convenient, but also a bit off-putting. It feels like cheating, to propose an ability to enter into the Hanoverian mindset through an internet browser.

Still, work does continue apace, now that I can't even afford a latte, let alone any activity that might drag me away from the computer for more than 20 minutes. That's not entirely true...I just have to be more discerning about what I'm dropping mah monies on. Tonight, for instance, I'm going to the opera, to see Rigoletto, which was the first opera I ever learned about; I've been waiting to see it since the fifth grade. And I do make an effort to get out of my pajamas for at least a couple hours a day. Most days. Generally.

Because, ye gods, academics in the frenzy of research are disgusting. Take me, for instance (you won't want to). I wake up and eat breakfast while scrolling through pages and pages of newspapers. I brush crumbs onto the floor. I read all morning and into lunch, which is also eaten in front of the computer. I bite my nails. I pick at my cuticles. I twirl my hair. As my body starts to protest at being forced to sit for so long, I begin to unconsciously fidget, shifting my weight back and forth, craning my head from side to side, swinging my chair to the left, then the the right, anchoring myself on my mousepad. Then I start to hum. Then I start to tunelessly sing whatever random lyrics have been caught in my head, in a breathy little half-voice. I'm usually not even aware that I'm doing this until  I type the lyric into whatever notes I happen to be taking: "Interesting use of coalition as sign of corruption in the sky with diamonds." Sometimes I don't even notice then. Finally, about four or 5pm, I look up from the screen, neck muscles creaking, eyes struggling to focus in a middle distance. I stand up, brushing the rest of lunch off of my lap. I consider brushing my teeth. I don't consider taking a shower.

And I'm one of the lucky ones...I can engage in this lunatic, soial reject behavior while safely hidden away in my room. There are people who need to go out in public to do their research. I would probably get myself banned.

So that's the glamorous life of the academic. It's all worth it, though, because someday I'll be able to wear a jacket with elbow patches and only look like a pompous ass, instead of an unqualified poser. Ah, life goals.