Dear, Friends:
I started writing this post in one of the many picturesque coffee shops in Saigon. I had journeyed to that city for the celebrations marking the 50th anniversary of the end of the Vietnam War. The trip also marked an ending for me as well: retiring from academia. But I hate the word retire, especially at my age (59). I’m leaving academia because there are questions I want to explore that do not fit into the role I had as a librarian and as non-tenure track faculty.
First, there’s the core question that I have realized is my life’s work. This question has followed me for nearly 25 years since I first recognized it as a thread that runs through what I attempt to do with my work:
Understanding how we convey and experience stories, both fictional and factual, through digital media. The future of my child’s life is the lens through which I view the changing shape of creativity, learning, and leisure in the twenty-first century.
Now, I can devote myself to that full-time. But what does that mean in practice?
I use the word practice deliberately. Now that my time is no longer structured by the rhythm of semesters and courses or any type of a regular job, I have the freedom to structure my own time. But that is so deceptive, so tantalizingly easy to drift into doing almost nothing. (With my mental health issues, that’s a real concern.) I need structure but am very glad not to have someone else impose structure on me.
The first structure I must impose on myself is health. Without my health, my retirement will be very short if I sit on the sofa, watch Netflix, and experience my body rapidly declining. That’s not an option. I have an exercise routine and keep a daily fitness log in a notebook. I’m not always as consistent as I need to be each day. But I’m working on the challenge, which is really a matter of commitment, of committing to start specific exercises each day. That commitment is a mental process. (There’s also the matter of nutrition. I know what I need to eat and not eat. It’s a matter of committing to an enjoyable pattern of eating healthy, natural foods.)
As for my mental health: I have a practice of meditation and journaling. My mindfulness practice over the last six years has saved my life.
The value of meaningful work
I view the work that I have chosen for myself as meaningful. If I had done what I needed to do earlier in my life, like pursuing a PhD and obtaining a tenured faculty position, then I probably would not be retiring from academia. But I didn’t make those choices. Now, I am embarking on my own path of study, research, and development.
I had a lot of time to think about this on my recent journey:
10-hour flight from Washington, DC to Istanbul
19-hour layover in Istanbul
10-days in Saigon
Got rerouted by Turkish Airlines to a flight on ANA
6-hours Saigon to Tokyo
3-hour layover at Tokyo-Haneda
12-hours Tokyo to Washington, DC (Dulles)
The most annoying part of the entire trip was the slow-moving immigration line for US citizens at Dulles and the 3+ hour drive back to Lexington, Virginia.
Without an institutional affiliation, I fall into the category of independent researcher. I have these projects, these interests of mine, that all overlap to some extent on the concept of immersive narratives. (Let’s set aside for a moment that all well constructed narratives are immersive.) Considering my skills in software engineering, I would not be fair to myself or others if I focused only on theory.
Rather than wander aimlessly from topic to topic, I’m forming a research agenda and methodology that grounds my creative and scholarly efforts, possibly for the next 25 years. (At my age, I strongly embrace the notion that I have practically a lifetime of intellectual productivity ahead of me.)
I’m anchoring everything in an interactive story/game that I’ve titled Never Fear Paris, not as a side project but as the embodied research instrument for my efforts. This move grounds my inquiry in material practice. Never Fear Paris becomes the lab where my theories are tested, refined, and made public. (See my post on LLMs in interactive mysteries.)
Never Fear Paris is an interactive mystery set in 1920s Paris. You play the role of a photographer caught up in the disappearance of a surrealist artist. As the player-photographer you uncover clues by exploring the streets, nightclubs, and art galleries of Paris. You interact with non-player characters (NPCs) to piece together the story of the missing artist.
In my next post, I’ll further explore Never Fear Paris as a research lab.