Dissertations and other torture devices

The dissertation experience is one that I didn't fully appreciate until I found myself diving headlong into it. If you've heard anything about it, you've undoubtedly heard that it's hard...but you probably haven't understood why it's hard.

I think what most people believe is the hardest part is the inane amount of reading you have to do to write a dissertation. Okay, I'll grant that. I have found journal articles so obscure that I wonder if anyone other than the writer and the editor who accepted it have actually read any of these poorly written tomes that explicate everything from world domination to toenail fungus. You learn quickly that journal articles were never written to be read...just to gain tenure.

For me, though, the hardest part of the dissertation is its isolation. It's not the social isolation, either. It's finding that one special academic niche that you can make a contribution to, and figuring out you're one of the very few people that's showing up to that party. I can't find people who have written specifically about what I'm studying...and that's tough. You have to cobble together research, that almost, kinda, sorta speaks to what I'm writing about...but not quite, and then start making a square peg fit in a round hole. When I don't have a clear roadmap, it's easy for me to procrastinate on the travel. I think that's actually pretty common.

The other thing that's particularly uncomfortable is the amount of "interest" people feign in the dissertation. People who love you ask about your dissertation often. It's their job. The thinking goes, "it's important to him, so obviously it should be important to me." Then I have to pull a careful balancing act. How many details to I let into the conversation? Do I discuss my problems with Walther's hyperpersonalization theory? Do I discuss my randomizatoin efforts? How about the struggles I have with developing a multi-dimensional definition of intimacy? Attachment theory? Weak tie theory? It's actually funny to watch eyes glaze over as the minutae of a dissertation gets played out to my horror.

I've come to realize a long time ago that the dissertation is nothing more than a hazing ritual, and that has been relieving for me. Now, though, that hazing ritual is kicking my butt...and I'll have to return.