Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.
Proverbs 13:12, The Good-ish Book (NIV)
As long as I can ever remember, I have been pretty certain that I wanted to be one thing and one thing only in this lifetime: Inventor.
I mean, sure, I wanted to be a firefighter for like two weeks after I finally found the courage to go down the fireman’s pole on the playground. But that was just a momentary 5-year-old’s fling that was never meant to last. Naive puppy love, if you will.
Being an inventor, though–that has truly stood the test of time. In fact, that’s still my answer when someone asks me what I want to be “when I grow up.” I suppose that everlasting desire of my heart is rooted in the allure of being patently1Pun intended, mother ----- . clever. In fact, you may recall how I once mused that “clever” is the single word I want on my tombstone (if they’re charging by the character, that is). That’s probably not going to change any time soon.
But there’s a fundamental truth about inventing that I learned early on, and that is inventing is hard.
When I was six or so, I had found an old 1950’s-era radio at the town landfill and instantly knew what I was going to do with it. Shortly after I brought it home with me, I set about the task of inventing something with it.
And sit I did. In fact, I sat there for probably at least an hour, just staring at it, thinking to myself, “I’m inventing! I’m inventing! I’m…so…when does the actual inventing start?”
Clearly, “inventing” isn’t something that you just go and do. Like life, it’s much more complicated than that. But a boy can still dream, right?
“Professional Nomad.” That’s a fairly apt description of my career thus far. Sure, I’ve been in the field of the physical sciences most of my adult life. But that’s a pretty big field, and I’ve taken more than my share of opportunities to wander in that wilderness.
Honestly, I have had a hard time establishing–or even just settling on–a professional identity. True, I’ve had some achievements worth celebrating: earning a Ph.D., becoming a published author,2Published in scientific journals, just to clarify. working on interesting scientific and medical problems in some high-caliber labs, etc. But without some sense of identity, that nagging feeling of wandering persists, leaving me to wonder if I’m ever going to do anything worthwhile with my life.
Then came along the Year 2020.
I don’t want to admit it to myself, but I’ll confess this to you: it’s been a rough year on me. I like to pretend that I’ve had the mental fortitude to thrive in this ----- -up year, but the wheels are going to eventually fall off that wagon. And not least of these struggles have been job-related.
For starters, I’ve had to share a workspace with the Boss Lady, whose competency and skill has only been put on steroids in these times of crises. No lie–she is literally being dragged up the corporate ladder kicking and screaming. She’s deserving every bit of the glory coming her way, and I couldn’t be more proud to be her Marty Ginsburg.
Meanwhile, in the other corner of the bedroom, though, I’m sitting here feeling like I’ve been running in place as a part-time scientist. Running in place–at best. Not to mention the underperformance of my other side hustles, like The Prissy Pet Project.
But you know what the icing on the 2020 shit-cake is for me? In but just a few days I turn 40. And oh boy, I’m starting to feel all the trappings of going over the Hill starting to creep up on me–namely, the early stages of a mid-life crisis. For someone that had so much potential in their youth, I have to fight tooth and nail against the fear that my life is going to pass me by and I’m going to be left with nothing but the realization that I’ve squandered all that potential.
Seriously, ----- 2020. ----- it right in its skull-holes.
Earlier this morning, as I was desperately trying to finish my diatribe about the dangers of talking to your parents about drugs, I noticed an email pop up in my work account. I glanced at it just long enough to see the term “Disclosure”–noting that it was undoubtedly yet another bureaucratic task in which I have to verify that I have no “conflicts of interest.” This is common paperwork for almost everybody in academia…and also yet another reminder that no, I’m not doing anything remotely close to being of monetary value with the time that I’m not being a scientist.
Thanks for asking, though. Assholes.
When I got around to directly looking at the subject line, it turned out that’s not what it was at all. Instead, it was “Invention Disclosure Received.” Okay, well, clearly this wasn’t directed at me. I’m pretty sure that I would remember if I had submitted any invention anywhere at any point in my lifetime.
But then I got to actually reading the email itself, and saw that it was addressed specifically to me, alongside several of my collaborators and coworkers from when I was a full-time scientists a couple of years ago.
Wait, what? This isn’t junk mail or busy work or random spam–this is something worth paying attention to.
Now, in the academic research world, there’s often a years-long delay between “work done” and “pay-off for work done.” So I’m actually used to finding out third-hand via similar-looking emails that I’m an author on some paper that’s about to be published–despite that project being 5 years in my rear-view mirror.
But, lo and behold, this wasn’t just another scientific paper to append to my modest-yet-respectable LinkedIn C.V. I read through the email carefully 3 times and confirmed, yup, this was indeed a project that I had poured waaaay too much time into. I figured that for my efforts I might get to be a footnote on the paper that would (maybe) eventually be published.
Apparently, though, this technology was novel enough that it was being classified as an invention. Very cool.
And one little detail had escaped my attention that I finally caught on my third read-through:
“If you are an inventor, please click here to complete the signature portion of the Invention Disclosure Form…”
An increasingly interesting work email
Did you catch that?
“If you are an inventor…“
Holy. Shit. They are talking to me.
Or, in the language of the 1984 Rob Reiner cult classic mockumentary, This Is Spinal Tap, I’m “Authorized Personnel:”
It took a few minutes for this new reality to sink in, and even then, I could hardly believe it. Me. Inventor? Yes, it really was true!
And I gotta admit, I never saw this one coming. I’m mean talk about the Universe coming through with–if I may be so bold–The Best 40th Birthday Present. EVER.
In one fell swoop, on the doorstep of what was going to be one of the most depressing birthdays in the midst of one of the most traumatizing years that any living folk under the age of 98 will ever experience, out of the blue comes the most pleasant of surprises:
- Childhood dream fulfilled before 40? Check.
- That identity that I have been long searching for? Check.
- A Tree Of Mother- ----- Life? Check!
Sometimes I have a hard time knowing where the line is between inviting others to share in the joys, celebrations, and victories of my life vs. just plain #HumbleBragging like an oblivious asshat.
But you know what? I’m gonna unapologetically own this one. My hard work has unexpectedly paid off, my heart is delighted, my countenance is lifted, and my spirit is soaring.
In the middle of all that is going on around us right now, the world needs all the uplifting stories it can get it.
Thank you, you’re welcome, and–why the ----- not, since we’re already here–Happy Birthday, Me!
Signed Yours Truly,
–The Inventor
Content created on: 10/11 December 2020 (Thurs/Fri)
Footnotes & References:
let me celebrate too, what is it that you have invented and patented? there are more good things to come, keep looking ahead!
Actually, I still have to verify that I’m actually a co-inventor first. I tried clicking on the two links that were in the email, but one tells me I’m “not authorized” to see the invention profile, and the link to sign the disclosure form just gives an error. 🤣😂🤣
Also, I don’t know how this process works, and how discrete I have to be. But it involves the infamous Christmas Rat. I can tell you that much.