I think everything I live for and do is anathema to professionalization. A website was something I was told to make years ago–and I knew it was a good idea at the time. It is still a good idea. I’m almost certain.
Yet, I’m unsure about the public-facing-ness, the advertising, of it all. My latest article rejection named my writing as “unconventional”, as “wandering,” as unclear. Not exactly the most marketable of styles, even among academics. Granted, I wanted the piece to question the hierarchies of knowledge and genres of knowledge-making, particularly when scholars write about disability. It continues a trend of mine wherein I tend to question—or clumsily challenge—the premises of the journals, websites, publications in my works. (I recall a job rejection from a medical humanities journal after my cover letter stated all the ways I find medical humanities disquieting but promising.)
I fear I might be a bit stupid. I worry this website will defeat the purpose of web-life, of interconnectedness and clarity and networks, because…as with my latest attempted article, as with my misguided job application, I don’t know if I can accept this as a sole repository of my works, my professional accomplishments. I want to update these ramblings, a professional diary. Something a bit embarrassing in its earnestness. A bit strange in its mechanisms.
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