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The fetishism of the “new year” has always perturbed me a bit. Of course fresh starts are always welcomed, but it makes me wonder why such an arbitrary demarcations are necessary. Why not view every day as a fresh start? As an academic, it has always made more sense to demarcate the new year in August, not in January. (Why not “new semester resolutions” instead?) But still, the rhetoric of the “new year” is everywhere, and every January does make me think back to where I have been. Especially this year, given the tenuous mental and emotional place which I was in last January.

After a long and grueling application process over the past few months, I am happy to report that I was selected for an APA interview by a liberal arts school in the Midwest. Knowing full well I would most likely not get the job, I interviewed with the hope of at least making it to the "second round"--from the pool of twelve (or so) semi-finalists, to one out of three (or so) finalists selected for an on-campus interview. Some other aspiring, unemployed philosophers have been posting information on a wiki site as to who has contacted them; and from the fact that this school has been named as having contacted finalists, I'm pretty sure I have not made it to the second round (barring unforeseen last-minute requests). Thus unless the two outstanding applications are successful, which is dubious, I'll remain in Tampa in the jaws of poverty for yet another year. But a year is plenty of time.

I now have a draft of a chapter about finished, and have begun work on another two chapters which will constitute the bulk of the dissertation. Changing my project this summer from a rather large and ambitious one to a much smaller and tighter one has paid dividends in its speed of composition. I am planning to complete another chapter every other month, with the hope of defending the damn thing early this Fall. All this recent progress has made me think back of my lack of progress previously--the traps which I have laid for myself, and the patterns into which I had fallen--and now to look ahead, speculating as to where I'll be in a year from now. I have moved from stagnation and desolation, to progress and hope. I hope to take this next year to emerge in January 2008 as the strongest possible candidate that I can possibly be.

Incremental change is rarely noticed. For this reason, I often think in terms of 'benchmarks' of where I previously was in order to more accurately gauge my progress. I think back to where I was one year ago: from lamenting the departure of a bar-hopping child, to the love of a woman; from the utter confusion about what I am going to say in the dissertation, to having an outline of the argument sketched; from doubting my ability to secure an academic job, to the validation that results from being picked from a pool of dozens of applications. All of this makes me wonder why I spent all last winter and spring living in the past, denying my own worth, sinking in a quagmire of my own making--rather than realizing that the future is open and waiting. I cannot change what has been, and certainly not the misdeeds of others--I can only hope to learn from these mistakes and to move forward. And indeed I shall.