If you had told me that May was 4 months ago now, I wouldn’t have believed you.
The saying “time flies when you’re having fun” couldn’t be more applicable to my life this summer. Yes, there were late nights in the lab and times where my motivation manifested itself as rotting in bed all day, doomscrolling. Unfortunately, Instagram reels have a way of doing that to all of us.
It’s somewhat strange how our brain tends to compress these stretches of time in hindsight. If anything, that effect gets magnified the further back I try to remember. For example, at this time last year, I was starting my 3rd year of my PhD. Newly minted as a PhD Candidate, I had no idea what passing my qualifying exam actually meant.
Was I an expert in my field? Hardly.
Was I supposed to take on new repsonsibilities, perhaps learn new technical skills, and tackle ever more complex research questions and directions? Likely.
Was I prepared? Definitely not. That feeling has not gone away, though that’s a topic for another day.
I’ve always felt nostalgia quite strongly. I could tell you in detail about memories that I have, both good or bad, and the general flavor of my life at that exact moment in the past. Time, however, has this interesting property: it never stops. So as I look back at the summer I had, I can only really describe my emotions as nostalgic.
For starters, I could discuss research. I began working towards my thesis proposal, which will hopefully happen at the end of next academic year, putting me one step closer to the dissertation defense. Zebrafish became the subject of much of my summer research days. Raising larvae, cleaning tanks, and feeding occupied most of my “science”. As unglorious as it sounds, perhaps that is what science is. Not necessarily always some major breakthrough or eureka moment, but rather the consistent, tedious effort that eventually pays off the end. My attitude towards this notion has shifted over the past few years. I’ve learned to enjoy the journey, not just the destination. I do research because it prevents complacency; there’s always a new problem to solve, a new direction to pursue, and a new way to challenge myself. I’m almost never bored, and although most of my summer days were spent in the lab, I can’t say I regret that.
In the moment though? Sure. Staying awake until 3 AM waiting for embryos to reach the correct stage is something I can only describe as painful. There may indeed be more eloquent adjectives, but rest assured the understatement is intentional.
The true source of my nostalgia, however, is something more nuanced than just a late night in the lab. It was the idea that each experience in my life is truly unique. A night out with friends may be just that on the surface, but I found myself asking: what made this specific night special? What made this night worth it?
Being the scientist-in-training that I am, I proposed several hypotheses to myself to answer these questions.
Was it the people that made my night special? Of course. I love my friends very dearly. Perhaps more than they’ll ever know.
Was it the place, event, or occassion? Certainly. It’s always fun to try new things and come together for someone’s birthday or milestone.
The real answer, I found, was almost too poetically simple: merely the fact that I said yes.
Yes to more hangouts. Yes to a new research direction. Yes to making the drive or taking the bus to see someone even when it was inconvenient or time consuming. Yes to the weekly phone call. Yes to learning how to produce house music because I’ve always wanted to.
I just said yes to life. I found that that’s what made my summer so intensely nostalgic. I had accrued unique and meaningful experiences, because I agreed to take an active role in cultivating them.
Perhaps that’s the most transferable skill I’ve learned from my PhD thus far. I don’t always know whether a new expeirmental directon or hypothesis will work out. In fact, I’d contend that this uncertainly comes with the job description.
I do believe, however, that there is real meaning in the fact that I put my inhibitions aside and even gave something a shot in the first place. If it truly doesn’t end up working out, the age old saying holds true: I’ve figured out what not to do, but I’ve almost certainly gotten closer to the right answer than I would have been if I hadn’t tried.
In this same vein, I asked myself, is anything ever a waste of time? If I truly tried something, and it didn’t work, wasn’t that still an experience worth having? Even if it was hard or time consuming? Even if it didn’t fully pan out the way I’d hoped in the end? Even if I was imperfect in my actions, as everyone is?
I do acknowledge and concede that this viewpoint may be idealistic, perhaps almost utopian, and most certainly cannot be applied to every facet of life. Choosing to doomscroll will always unfortunately be a waste of time, guilty as charged.
My rebuttal, however, is rooted in my nostalgia. Simply put, lived experience is perhaps the best teacher I’ve ever had. As I look forward to the coming days, weeks, and months, I hope I can continue become a better student.