Overburdened

Yesterday I went to bed early and slept for fifteen hours straight. Now, six hours after waking, I am exhausted again. My schedule for the next two weeks, as well as for the next month, is brutal.

I may be reaching the limits of my mental fortitude.

Into the final week

Spending weeks on end trying to spend all day preparing for an open-ended examination is wearying, and nearly any task seems welcome by comparison. One advantage of that is how I have spent more time in the gym in the last month than in the year before that – passing an hour a day there first thing upon waking.

Still, there are now only six days before my re-comp and I must do all I can to remain focused on it. I have continued with sketching outlines to probable exam questions, and already lined up two late meetings with faculty members to discuss them.

Even if I succeed in the exam, there is more drudgery ahead. To begin with, I need to complete my PhD coursework, and the requirements are somewhat confusing. I have requested a meeting with the director of graduate studies to try to sort it out. There seems no way of reconciling the set of courses they require PhD students to take with the length of time in which they are meant to be completed. Furthermore, I will have another comprehensive exam to write on public policy, a topic that will be far more challenging for me since I have even less background in it than I do in Canadian politics.

Wasteful conflict

Commenting on federal-provincial conflict, Richard Simeon provides a quote from Anthony Downs that I suspect applies at least as much to academics as to politicians:

A second effect of territorial sensitivity is that bureaus consume a great deal of time and energy in territorial struggles that create no socially useful products.

Simeon, Richard. Federal-Provincial Diplomacy. 1971.

Thinking of going phone-free

My three-year iPhone contract ends in February, and I am thinking about selling the phone. I am tempted to go entirely phone-free, but there are times when having a phone is necessary to get information (like when things are available for pickup) or for coordinating meetings.

Part of my reluctance to continue with smartphones is the cost. My monthly bills were consistently over $100 until I called Fido to try to cancel and they switched me onto a $60 ‘retention’ plan, which provided more than my previous $100 plan.

Another major motivation is distraction. One part of that is the annoyingly intrusive character of all phones. They allow anybody to demand your immediate attention at any time. Mine is usually on ‘airplane mode’ or off, but that doesn’t entirely eliminate the anxiety, since there is always a nagging sense in my mind that someone might be setting down a batch of missed calls.

A bigger distraction issue comes from just having a smartphone with you. Ordinarily, that means getting periodically interrupted by texts and emails. More subtly, there is the constant temptation to take a peek at the news, have a glance at Twitter, and the like. It takes a person out of the present moment, which makes relatively unpleasant tasks like comp prep more difficult and makes relatively pleasant tasks like walking on a cool fall afternoon less immersive.

The constant tracking and NSA / CSEC paranoia is another cause for skepticism about cell phones.

Going phone-free is probably a bridge too far. I would go with that option if I had someone who could take the occasional message for me and pass it on by email, but I don’t want to burden anyone with that, at least until I get an unpaid intern or two. More plausibly, I will get a very small, very cheap pay-as-you go phone for very occasional use.

It’s hard to say whether three years with the iPhone has provided good value for money. It’s certainly a capable device – especially when traveling – and I have made extensive use of the camera, email functionality, tethering capability, Google Maps connectivity, and web access. At $100 per month for most of the span, the total cost to date has been over $3500 – as much as a 5D Mark III (before battery grip and other necessary extras), or a couple of Fuji X100S cameras (one of which would be a gratuitous 30th-birthday-gift-to-self if I had the funds).

Once my contract ends, I think I can shift to paying month-by-month. As a trial, I may try cancelling it for 2-3 months without selling the phone and testing my experience with the pay-as-you-go option. At that point, I can re-evaluate.

Morrison Hall in the summer

Living in a residence where nobody knows anyone else and where no action can generally be attributed to a specific individual illustrates what happens when the bonds of community are thin.

The refrigerator is often crammed with rotting, stinking food – all of it heaped together in opaque plastic grocery bags. Someone has been dumping a pot worth of tea leaves into the sink twice a day all summer, never throwing them away or even washing them down the drain. Someone also seems to have a habit of drinking 4-6 disposable cups of coffee in one of the bathrooms, then leaving the cups strewn across the floor. The other day someone stole my (inexpensive) razor, which I had been using since I was an undergraduate and which I left in the main unisex bathroom accidentally for a few minutes. Desirable food regularly goes missing, the kitchen and common room are always gross (especially during weekends when there is no staff to clean), with stained couches and carpets, sticky counter-tops, and a microwave spattered with vaporized remnants of instant meals. People are often raucous and loud at night. At one point, someone discarded a large amount of food belonging to other people so they could put four 24-can flats of Coca Cola into the shared fridge at once.

Morrison Hall has been good in terms of proximity to libraries, air conditioning, and extremely fast internet access. I will naturally be happy to move back into Massey on August 30th. I just wish it were possible to do directly, without the 9-day purgatorial period that arises from Morrison’s August 21st move-out date.

Some thoughts on the civil service

More than a year has now passed since I left the public service. The most surprising thing about that is how I don’t feel like I have ever regretted the choice. There are individuals who I miss, and I certainly miss the regular paycheques, but there have seldom if ever been times when I would have exchanged my current situation as a student for a magical instant return to being a full-time civil servant.

This contrasts, for instance, with my choice of PhD program. Most of the time, I remain convinced that the University of Toronto was the best choice from among the schools that accepted me. That said, there have surely been times – living in an inhospitable city where the traffic makes me too afraid to cycle – when I ponder what it would have been like to study at the University of California, Santa Barbara – and with three times as much funding, to boot. Naturally, I have also felt open at many times to the appeal of being at the University of British Columbia and back in Vancouver.

By contrast, memories of the civil service never leave me feeling a desire for sudden transplantation. I am grateful for the time I spent there; it is certainly a good way to learn about how this country operates. Oftentimes, however, my strongest sense when thinking about the institution is about how sad and disturbing it is that our federal civil service is so inactive about climate change. Indeed, it is probably a net contributor to the growing severity of the problem, given how much priority advocating for oil pipelines and for scrapping rules and processes for environmental protection has gotten over the actual implementation of policies with real potential to substantially diminish Canada’s greenhouse gas contribution. I feel like people in fifty years will find it surprising to learn about how unconcerned our leaders were about the problem, how wilfully blind they were about the disjoint between the policies they supported and their supposed goal of avoiding dangerous climate change, and how ignorant and complacent the Canadian population at large was about the problem. The gap between our policies and what climate science shows to be necessary is so wide that it makes our present approach look like little more than a distracting facade, designed to sustain the public misperception about how insufficient our current approaches are.

As the above probably makes clear, my main feelings about the public service are anger, frustration, and sadness. Sadness because of the gap between what we are capable of, and what we are actually doing. The civil service is full of intelligent, dedicated people who are making a substantial and genuine effort to make Canada and the world a better place. At the same time, they are confronting the chasm between an elected government that has never been serious about curbing climate change and a situation in the world where the problem is increasingly evident and threatening. The full effects of today’s emissions won’t be felt for decades, so if we are to avoid truly terrible outcomes, global emissions need to start diving soon. Yet that is far from what’s on even the ambitious side of the political agenda. The real policy we are enacting is for a perpetuated status quo of ever-growing fossil fuel production, despite the clear scientific basis for seeing that status quo as suicidal.

Much can change politically if real and immediate disaster does come to pass. The general public might finally accept the argument that imposing climate change on future generations is an intolerable wrong; or they may simply perceive it happening quickly enough to seem like a threat to themselves. Politicians may finally accept that fossil fuel companies aren’t primarily generous tax-payers and contributors to election campaigns – but rather entities working hard to undermine the habitability of the planet. Something on par with a major war may blow up the issue enough psychologically for it to rise to an appropriate level of urgency.

Wherever the impulse for change comes from, it won’t be from the federal civil service, which is entirely too contented with continuing to support policies that propel us toward planetary catastrophe. It may well not be in academia either but, at least for the present moment, the latter seems a more promising place to dedicate my energy for now.

In one of Toronto’s glass-walled towers

Living in a building with both built-in heating and built-in air conditioning, with a thermostat in your room, is weirdly frustrating.

I don’t generally care about the temperature, within a fairly broad range, but I need to set the thermostat to something. Sometimes, I come home to find the building wastefully cooling my room; other times, to find it needlessly warming the small space.

I wish there were an ambient outdoor temperature setting that I could use as a default.

Annoying things about off-camera flash photography

1) Keeping masses of batteries charged

2) The incompatibility of various wireless trigger systems (PocketWizard, Paul C. Buff, the proprietary system in the new Canon 600EX flash)

3) Finicky hotshoe adapters, for the majority of flashes lacking miniphone or PC connection ports

4) The ludicrous expense of cables required to connect radio triggers to flashes