Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Good heavens, golly and gosh. Or rather, bloody hell.

It's been a while, hasn't it? Let me tell you what my life has consisted of for the last 6 weeks.

Writing. Swearing. Writing. Sleeping. Procrastinating. Procrastinating. Procrastinating. [Not necessarily in that order or weighted to that number of times the word is repeated.]

In other words, I haven't had a lot to write about, and writing has sort of been the issue. It's not writer's block. Because I write something every day. It is, rather, a complete and utter lack of conviction towards writing this thesis. I'm over it. I really, really am. I just want it to be done already. I don't want to spend the next four months finishing it and then have to viva and then have to fix it. I want to be done already. I want to be employed and making money to start paying off that massive debt over my head. I want to live in my own place (rented though that will be). I want to get on with my life. I'm over the PhD. Three years doesn't sound like a long commitment (my undergrad was five), but I'm telling you now, at this stage in my life, three years is a bloody too long commitment. Too long chained to one thing with no way out. I knew that, theoretically, when I started this, but theory and practice are (as my thesis shows) two different things.

But I'm waxing lyrical and there's no point. Because I am not done. Because I may just have another 12 months of this to go. And there is no choice here. This isn't one of those crossroads in life where I get to decide which path I turn down. No, there is only one path, and no shortcut (or long cut) across country either. I'm all about forging new paths, but in this case there's a cliff on either side and I'm walking a very narrow bridge. It's go forward or go back. And how do you go back on life already lived?

[You don't.]

So, I haven't really had much of note to talk about with you, my readers. Each day is an effort to keep my head above water, and each night I am thankful to find my bed and rest (when I can). And that is going to be my life for the foreseeable future. I can't think past that, I really can't. Because for me, passed this doesn't exist in anything other than the most abstract terms, and I've never been good with abstract (art or theory).

I go on, each day. I get up, I write what I need to, I try not to hate it too much, I eat, I sleep, I go to the gym when all else fails, I try not to be too depressed, and tomorrow I get up and do it all again. 

Possibly, however, that's normal.