It's interesting posting on this blog while I'm working on my PhD. More people have read this blog in a week (let alone a post on Mary's baby daddy) that will probably ever read my dissertation on Barbadian immigrants in Canada. A post that took me less than an hour to come up with has more reads and will be more popular and entertaining than the culmination of 9 years and tens of thousands of dollars of post-secondary education.
I think most PhDs would be disheartened by that, but to be honest, it is what it is. I'm at peace with the futility because at the end of the day what I do is pointless (and if most grad students don't recognize that, they'll be in for a rude awakening). I'm not searching for a cure for cancer or the common cold. I'm going to be a doctor that can't save lives. You don't want me to raise my hand and come forward when someone yells out if there's a doctor in the room. How many people would hire a plumber that doesn't know how to jiggle that clog of Manchu Wok out of your toilet before it (and whatever else you ate that day) spills all over your bathroom floor?
I'm going to write a book that no more than a handful of people are going to want to read. A guy can write a book about telling his kids to go to f**k to sleep, and I can bust my brain for years pushing out a book that will probably end up in a Goodwill used bookstore.
Might sound like I've been sipping on the haterade, but it is what it is. If I wanted to have an impact on more people and touch more lives, I would've become a Catholic priest or a hockey coach.