Follow the Leader (But Not Too Closely)

  Somehow, despite how much I think I talk about being a musician, there are still many of my colleagues who are surprised to hear about this other part of my life. For many years, music has been as much a part of I am as my scholarly work. Some might think these two worlds are completely separate, but through internal reflection and discussions with others in a similar spot, I've found that being a musician might have a hand in making me a better academic. As a start to this argument, it's important to contextualize the focus, discipline, and creativity honed through constantly playing and composing music. There's plenty of people who have studied how musical training enhances cognitive abilities and how listening to music impacts the listener's emotions. Rather than regurgitate any of that, I like to think about how those habits of music could translate to my research and academic writing. I know from having a guitar for the past two decades and consistently playing f...

For years, essentially starting from elementary school, I watched others walk across stages, their names echoing through auditoriums, hands outstretched to receive gleaming trophies and certificates. In undergrad, and then in various workplaces, that familiar pang of jealousy would strike. It wasn't that I craved the spotlight, but rather, I couldn't reconcile the disconnect between effort and recognition. I knew, deep down, that I was often putting in far more work than many of my peers, yet the accolades seemed to consistently bypass me. This wasn't a motivator. It didn't inspire me to "try harder". Instead, it fostered a quiet acceptance. I learned to be a strong academic, a reliable colleague, and a leader without the expectation of external validation. The "trophy" became an irrelevant concept. I focused on the intrinsic rewards: the satisfaction of solving a complex problem, the joy of a well-executed project, and the respect of those I worked ...