Christmas in the Dark
But it’s not quite ‘as it should be’, or rather, as it has been before. The candles are up in household windows (the ‘nearly-menora’), lights are strung about the town square (though left off, how Swedishly conservational), shop windows are framed in elfy-knomey characters,and some ambitious member of staff at the University went for a wander deep into the local woods and came back with a 2-storey evergreen – now planted smack in the middle of campus. Relative to the North American fire hazard of a tree that leaves scarcely an inch of branch visible beneath its lights, this Swedish brand of the coniferous clan stands crookedly now with only a single string of white lights so sparsely wrapped around it that they seem like an afterthought – all the while, the tree waiting to be tipped by less appreciative foreigners like myself.
So far, though we’re only into day #1 of the Swedish Jul (Yuletide) countdown, the Swedish Christmas spirit seems so very IKEA: clean, simple, to the point. How I miss the gaudier interpretations at home: the ‘Vegas’ creche scene lit up casino-style and most often found within a whiff of Roman-Catholic properties; motorized Rudolphs with blinking traffic-light noses set amongst other reindeer in poses that could be considered subtlely lewd; Mrs. Claus inflated beyond flattering proportions, leaving below her a patch of grass requiring several summers of recovery; or the ridiculous Chevy Chase Christmas monstrosity of a electrical bill that lights up the entire west side of town. North American – or West of Toronto – excess would seem so comforting right about now.
Not that there is much time to enjoy the Where’s Waldo Christmas decorations after comtemplating the second tsunami of assignments lately. After six years of non-university life where work had its figurative ‘off button’, the relentless feeling of pressing deadlines (and endless study) breathing down one’s neck isn’t such an easy feeling to get used to. A chat with Mark Goliger made me put it in perspective: this ‘ain’t nothing’ compared to what an MBA at home could have been. For this, I thank the Swedes and their relatively unrushed work ethic – but I wonder how well-equipped I might be for the sharp competition that is business at home.
While the lead into this next thought may be escapist in character, it is for this and a plethora of other reasons (valid and not) that I have been taking a rather in-depth look at the world of Ph.D. That’s right: if you can’t do it, study it and teach it – and avoid the ‘real world’ like the plague. Nothing seems so attractive at times as the armchair of research. In a serious light, I should be more honest in my portrayal of the profession, as opposed to these ‘cop-out’ pokes at it. To partake on this route would require a concerted effort between me, myself and I for the next 5-6 years. Is a profession that places such reliance on self-motivation (with a warm ‘lifestyle’ aspect to it) going to be torture in less motivated moments? How many Ph.D. candidates are, when it comes time to finding work, overeducated, overdebted, naive and vaguely useful? What from the business world could I research and teach to the next generation of students beyond workaholism, obsessive-competition and exploitation of the planet and its resources? If this ‘save the world-ish’ perspective is chosen, will there be anyone who cares to listen in the future and who isn’t sitting behind their computer screen taking online classes?
Perhaps its not all doom and gloom – I should expect that, 25 years from now, there will still be the Swedish people, self-feeding and self-fueling, wandering around in their little eco bubble of a country, (tropically-climated at this point), clean and green from years of living in the darkness of unlit Christmas lights.
Minimalistically,
Laura
Tags: Swedish Living
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