Sitting in an empty lab, surrounded by a dark campus, I think to myself: “Why do I want to be a scientist?” I recall a story my father told me. Unclear about the practical application of a difficult measurement, someone asked physiologist A. V. Hill: why did you do the experiment? Hill paused, then said: “Because it amused me.” I want to be a scientist to satisfy my curiosity about the world.

Staring at my first assistant-professor application, I think of what amuses me and satisfies my curiosity. I started my current project with a complex conceptual model for muscle activation. Recalling Henry David Thoreau's advice to “simplify, simplify”, I stripped away the complexity with careful assumptions. Then I found an analytical expression whose taut curve hugged the numerically generated points of the complex model. This process of making a problem, in Einstein's words, “as simple as possible, but not simpler” is what amuses me.

I send my application into cyberspace and wonder about my prospects. Late last year, theoretical and applied mechanics at Cornell, the department where I received my PhD, ceased to exist. The dean merged it into the more experiment-driven (and more fundable) mechanical engineering department. Is there a place for someone whose passion lies more on the theoretical side? Must I ignore what amuses me in favour of what makes me marketable?