I’ve been to St. Louis more times than I can count so I wasn’t too concerned about navigating my way around the city.
But the Popular Culture Association conference? That was new.
This is one of the oddities of academic culture, one for which I am not sure I am entirely cut out. These conferences, these peer-reviewed papers. These exercises in, I want to say futility but I know that isn’t fair. Because I have friends who have been in this institution for some time, who do quite well.
My own problems with this system are neither blanket condemnations of this process nor particularly new.
Builders and creative types have always struggled within this environment.
What’s particularly difficult to swallow is the strangle-hold that academics – and by that I mean people who have come through traditional PhD programs – have on this process. There is, as far as I can see at the moment (which is understandably not very far), little acceptance for actual practitioners.
Which means I wander. Quite a bit.
***
As I wandered aimlessly around the convention center area, unsure where I was supposed to go, I had a South by Southwest moment of clarity.
A tiny one, anyway.
I stood, unsure where the registration area was, staring at the sky. Or looking up, assuming there would be some sign or banner indicating exactly where I’d find the conference.
There was nothing.
For a moment, I was panicked because I had less than an hour to find my friend Nicole. She was anxious about her presentation and I wanted to be there for her. But I couldn’t find the registration. Or the panel room assignments.
Of course, there were only 4 buildings. Right next to each other. So I stopped the first two people I saw with badges and asked them where registration was.
Across the street. Same building as Nicole’s presentation.
There were maybe 1,000 people at the conference. Conceivably less. I don’t know. Certainly less than the 12,000 at SXSW.
But I’m used to that conference. I know Austin. I could find my way through the city with a blindfold. Here, in this new environment, I felt unsettled. Over-run. Out of place.
Even for just a moment.
***
I look at my year’s productivity, which I’m told for academia is not bad. I write, present and speak around the country. I am visible in my field, although what I do is largely invisible to the academic community.
I feel un-satisfied with it though. As if I am playing a game I don’t particularly care about. The work I should be doing sits unfinished after 8 months while more work I couldn’t care less about piles up.
It’s all very bizarre to me, wandering through my life like this. I keep expecting that it will get better. Or change. Or clear up.
But it hasn’t. Or doesn’t.
It just gets more wandering-less-ness.
