My friends are away. And so am I. But while they are somewhat overseas, I am in their house, ready to take on potential burglars and looking after the chicken. No, I don’t get paid for it, I am nice.
Considering a holiday this winter, I updated my personal PhD timeline. Turns out, it’s getting really tight for me considering the time I have left to finish. I’ve never realised, that once the scholarship is up and the extensions are exceeded, there will be a problem coming up. And it’s a problem of money and immigration.
They’re dead. 1008 people this week died in the news. You say HUH? Let me break this down: The Nepal earthquake: 1000. Indonesian death penalty: 6 unimportant and 2 brave martyrs. Don’t get me wrong on the wording here, I am trying to reflect the national media and the wording does not reflect my subjective view at all. I could easily donate each incident, the shaking and the shooting, their own blog post. But while donations for Nepal are requested everywhere and discussions of all kinds sprinkle across pub tables and social media, I would like to write about something totally different.
And then, what are gonna do? is the question I hear a lot once I mention my PhD might be coming to an end this year. And that question is tough to answer and nearly impossible to distract anyone from. Anyone – including myself.
Remembering a tradition I grew up with, we went on an Easter march. In fact, a hike. A 22km hike from Binna Burra to O’Reillys: the Border Track between Queensland and New South Wales.
I have been cooking – and everyone survived! And if you are surprised you might not fully understand the significance of that. To my friends, I have always been the one who does not cook. And they are right! I have always been the one totally happy with muesli, pasta/pesto or couscous/tuna. But then circumstances changed.
The new semester has just begun and it seems it is buzzing with life everywhere: No more parking space, a new uni bar at GC campus, confused ‘firsties’ (first semester students) everywhere. O-week is followed by Guild and Link activities off campus, and as soon as we think we should really get the studying started, there is harmony week and the first postgraduate party rolling on to us!
“The subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck” is a one of Mark Manson’s posts, which has kept me thinking a lot. Actually, no, wrong, it hasn’t kept me thinking a lot, it turned into a new life approach for me, a new karma, so to say. Because, really, how many f*cks can you possibly give in a lifetime?
Doing a PhD brings hard times. Everyone knows, it’s tough on the brain, it can be quite lonely, struggles with supervisors, fights with rats, hours in archives, nights staring at a screen. But when people talk about PhD problems, do they ever really consider the emotional load that comes with it? Yes, of course there is the motivation you have, the excitement for a new idea and the thrill you get from the acceptance of your first publication. But what about the bad stuff?