Buried Under Literature

I recently learned I could get updates on recently published research of my particular field by creating alerts in Google Scholar.

After “learning” this, I realized I had to have it. What was I doing, did I want to get out of my hole after four years of my PhD and realized I didn’t know where the world was going? That was not the way to go.

I should know what the current trends are in my field, where the research is going, and how many people (and which groups) are publishing work that is identical to my own (also so that I can send them hate mail if they publish something I was just about to submit).

So I did that. I followed some of the most notable names in my field, created alerts for their works, and also for articles related to their expertise. Breezy easy. I now just had to follow through.

The thing is, if you have very famous people, they seem to be publishing something every other day (probably some kind of “you become famous, you publish more, you become more famous, you get published even more” infinite loop). And the mails I receive every other day have something from a couple to around ten or eleven titles. But of course, if you have related people in your alerts, then some papers are obviously going to overlap.

Now I am blindly downloading papers I know I’m not even going to read half of – there are lots of interesting titles that I would like to get to know more, but then again, they are not related to the “core” of what I’m doing, and having so much to read already ensures that I’m probably never going to read most of them. But that does not deter me from the simple act of saving all pdfs to my downloads folder, with arbitrary, unintelligible titles, further decreasing the probability of me ever reading them, or even knowing why I downloaded them in the first place.

The only fear I have, is downloading the same paper more than once. I do not want to have it so that I read a paper twice, despite all my precautions, because I apparently had two copies ( one of which did not land in my “Read” folder after I’d read it).

I do not want to waste my precious time on a single paper, time that I could have easily wasted elsewhere, in more fun manner.

Sigh. I should now get back to my other form of wasting time, cataloging all literature in my computer to see if I have a second copy of something lurking in my hard drive (I seem to only have downloaded papers in the past four months rather than reading actual literature).

The Internal Dialogue of a Chronic Procrastinator

Today was supposed to be a big day, a day when I would finally finish that review article I had started 3 weeks ago (or was it 4 weeks ago?).

But all morning, I have been displaying classic symptoms of a person who wants to avoid work at all costs.

So to the article… where did I put it? Drat, I even had it lying right in front of me, a constant reminder of my procrastination. Clearly, I hadn’t lost it, despite my messy desk. My messy desk! May be I should just use 5 minutes of my best hour of the morning to straighten my desk out.

All papers sorted out, 55 minutes remaining of my best hour. Still plenty of time to get to that paper, see? Okay, but why in the world is that sticky note lying around? How long has it been, 3 weeks? Or has it been 4? Strangely, it has been fine for all that time, but now I’m 98% sure if I don’t throw it out immediately, this apparently-innocent-piece-of-paper would cause something catastrophic to happen; it is that important that I get up, walk to that dustbin, and throw it in the garbage.

Ah, I definitely had some experiments lined up for today. Are my glass slides fine, that I washed so carefully yesterday and put them safely away in my drawer? They should be, right? May be I should just go and check on them, the lab is, after all, just two doors away.

No, no. Today we were supposed to read in the morning, remember? No going anywhere. Even if something has happened to your glass slides, there’s nothing you can do about it now that you also cannot do 90 minutes later (Okay, it’s 90 minutes now? I certainly have higher expectations from myself).

But it’s like I have this itch in my hand, don’t you see? May be if I were to hold a forcep, or a petri dish in my hand, it’d just go away…

45 minutes to kill now before I can finally declare myself unfit for reading and use the excuse of too-less-time-remaining-for-the-rest-of-my-day-tasks.

But as time ticks by, and you haven’t yet gotten into the frenzy of your experimental procedures, and neither are you letting yourself get up from your seat for a said amount of time, and you have straightened out your desk, then what else do you have left to do… But to read?

And so I took out that hour for long-awaited, piling-up-to-dangerous-levels-now reading. Still didn’t finish that article, but I didn’t really expect myself to finish that today, did I?