Friday

There are things that I plan for, and then there are the things that I do on a whim. Today, I signed up for a certificate program in UX design through Google, something that will ideally bring me a step closer to UX research. I’m not a particularly gifted person when it comes to visual design — my sisters excel in that field; I flounder — but I am fascinated and intent on understanding all facets of human-computer interaction. Then I had a small meltdown over whether I will ever have a fulfilling career as a writer and cognitive scientist. Then I said to myself, “I’m no writer. I’ll never get into a PhD program.”

So that is how my Friday has gone.

The thing is, there are those days where all attempts at organization die a long, slow death. I always start the week off with gusto, storming through my to-do list. This past Monday, I was up at 5. I reviewed Portuguese prepositions and their connections with verbs. I counted to ten in Arabic, then in Persian. I pulled out my scrapbook materials for my French journal. It all seemed so potent, life, and so full of possibilities.

As the week goes on, however, I find myself in less structured time. I spent more hours daydreaming. Inevitably I find myself in the midst of an unfulfilled to-do list wondering if my thesis for my MA program is going to come together in the end. I do have 42 pages (of a minimum of 40) ready to submit, which eases the pressure, but at the end of all this, there is someone very disorganized and very anxious to live up to her own expectations for her life.

Today, I made a sugar-free chai latte, pulled out my annotation kit, and sat down to read and take notes on Plain Text, a book by a researcher whose work I admire. it was slow but delicious going. I swirled my tea in its teacup every few minutes or so as I highlighted and Googled and worked to parse through the language of the book to get at its hugely important ideas. Perhaps it is a bit dramatic, but I did think while reading Plain Text the way that I think when I watch lectures on mathematics or computational cognitive science: I want to do that. I want that.

I worked on chapter five of Canis Major. This was a timely chapter to pick up, and I should probably give some background. When I was fourteen, I volunteered with a summer writing program for young children. There I met all sorts of wonderful kids (kids whose design and painting skills put mine to shame), but some of the most memorable were two girls with their lives planned out. Their plans — to become bestselling authors, fashion designers, and always remain best friends —were so ambitious and so free of any self-doubt truly moved me. Even though I had not yet come into a sensible appreciation of feminism, I recognized in some vague part of myself the power and the vibrancy of the girl.

Chapter five of my novel is all about that, and the characters Evelyn and Louisa are based directly on those two girls I met over fifteen years ago now, girls who are adults now. I hope that they never lost their spark and their capacity to seize life with naïve, unfiltered courage. Within this chapter, we are introduced to the children’s book that Evelyn and Louisa hope to author and illustrate throughout the rest of the novel. I love that for them, that electricity that has not been dampened or severed by the scrutiny of the world.

And I connect these two ideas — my thoughts while reading Plain Text and writing Louisa and Evelyn’s project — because I think that there is some indefatigable part of the human spirit that, particularly when it is young or new to a topic or idea, that defies self-doubt, that says, “Yes, I will be a true researcher.

Yes, I will finish this novel, and then others after it. Yes, there is a power in some crumbs of self wisdom, that those crumbs can propagate into a new language. Yes, I will raise my fist and magnify my sweet, small voice into something worthy of shouting.

Then again, t is Friday night, and I may be a little lazy for the rest of the evening, perhaps start on Italian to see if it is something I will continue with. I do love surfing ScienceDirect and JSTOR, too. I could put on Legally Blonde, which I have watched on repeat for a few weeks now, and curl up with Plain Text.

To quote Samuel Beckett: I can’t go on. I’ll go on.