It be Summer

I have 9000 words of a chapter due in 11 days, and I can't for the life of me really tell you what it's about. I know what it should be about. I know what it needs to be about. But at this point, it's become more about manipulating the data to fit the chapter, so that this chapter aligns with the next chapter (which I don't have to manipulate the data for). So it's forced. I hate forced writing.

I need to write 800-1000 words a day if I'm going to finish this on time (in order to start the next chapter that has a rather firm due date).

I have been using a segmentation writing style suggested to me by a palaeontologist. I know, that sounds weird. But it's working. It automatically separates everything down into 500-1000 words segments in the first place, which makes writing easier. It also requires that the entire chapter be outlined in detail (down to, you know, 1.1.2.3, for example) before writing commences, so you know what goes where. I'm not usually this scientific when I write, but it appears to be helping me organise my thoughts. I think it's not very historical, or even really social science-y, but it's working, so I'm going to keep doing it. Hopefully it won't pose too many difficulties when it comes time to finalising the whole thesis before submission (in 5 months - gods help me).

Right now (nearly wrote that as 'write' now - clearly the PhD is having an adverse brain effect), I just need to start writing, but I'm really rather afraid this chapter is going to be as hard as I think it will be, and therefore cause me a lot of grief to write. And grief isn't something I want to deal with, I'm sure you can understand. I don't want to be slamming my head into the desk time and again for the next 11 days.

But I must. I really, really must. I have a PhD writing buddy now, and we are trying to motivate each other to hit our daily word counts, and suffer through together. I think it's helping a bit. I'm a bit more motivated, at least.

Of course, booking a hiking trip to the Peaks when I finish this chapter should help too...

University Museums Group Conference

This one isn't really about writing.

A few weeks ago I got the sort of email in my inbox that typically makes me want to go 'crap' and hide in a corner until the anxiety attack wears off. However, as the email was from my supervisor, I instead wrote back and said 'yes' and then went 'crap' and hid in a corner. Priorities, I have them.

I spent a lot of the last couple of weeks going out of my way to stave off the brewing anxiety. I don't do presentations. I absolutely loath it. I am, borderline, phobic about public speaking. It just is not my thing. And that's okay, because rarely am I required to stand up at the front of a room and present. I can do meetings. I can chair meetings. I can talk in a group. I cannot stand in front of a conference and present. We all have our failings.

But when your supervisor emails you to say he's putting together a panel and are you available, you say yes. And then you freak out.

I could have done a very simple 'this is my research' presentation, but the supervisor already had a theme in mind and so I sort of ran with that and…kept on running. These things happen.

Anyways, I ended up delivering a rather provocative presentation (thankfully, not directed at any of the museums in attendance) that pretty much said 'you are all doing it wrong, do better'. And then people agreed with me. And started following me on Twitter and retweeting quotes from my presentation. And sending me emails to say they've been discussing it in the office today.

These sorts of things typically give me anxiety attacks. Thankfully, I have two deadlines next week so I don't have time to have an anxiety attack (or more than one). Which is excellent timing, all around.

I do know that my supervisor is very happy. And that my fellow panelists (who I trust) told me it was really good. And I did not have a fidget attack sitting at the front waiting for 30 minutes to speak. Baby steps. Baby steps. I may be getting the hang of this whole presenting thing, even if thinking about having to do one will probably give me an anxiety attack for a long time to come.

The 'Starting Writing Writer's Block'

We've all suffered through it. You know you need to write something. You know what you need to write (well, mostly), but you can't seem to write it.

I have re-written my thesis outline three times in as many days. For future reference, doing so does not making writing the thesis easier. But it was worth a try.

I have been trying to take a new stance on life. When I cannot write, I will not stress about it. When I desperately need to write and nothing happens, I will not have an anxiety attack and lose sleep. Mostly, this is working relatively well. The unfortunate thing is that, no matter how I feel psychologically, the deadline is still getting closer.

I have two deadlines this month. They are both the same day. Neither is flexible. I am entirely certain the work for one of them will get done by then. That one, alas, is not my thesis. The thesis, despite my new stance on life, is worrying me.

My issue is simple (it's not). In my glory of being original, I got a little carried away. My thesis hinges on two disparate theories from two (almost opposing) disciplines, neither of which have ever been used for the discipline I work in. Possibly I went a little overboard (though my supervisor thinks otherwise). One theory informs my data collection, the other my data analysis. The first is not the problem. The second is supposed to be helping me structure the second half of the thesis, but instead it seems to be making it harder. However, at this stage, letting it go isn't really an option (not without rethinking my conclusions, redoing my analysis, and reworking the first half of the (already written) thesis). And I have a deadline I have to meet. In other words, I need to make it work.

It would be easier if certain people answered their emails, of course.

So now I am reduced to eating cooking chocolate, because it's the only thing in the house, drinking more tea than I need to on a reasonably warm day, and trying to rewrite the outline for a fourth time. All the while knowing that I have to do my other work this afternoon, or that deadline will become problematic too. And I might as well achieve one of them.

Future Planning

One of the things that has come out of my field work is the desire by museums to 'future plan' or 'future proof' their institutions. Instead of focusing on the now (or the immediate future), to look at the bigger picture of five, ten, twenty years down the road.

Museums don't do this very well. And very few individuals do it well either.

I used to do it really, really well. But that was in the days of stable jobs and very specific life plans. Those days are long gone.

Now I have a difficult time planning a month in advance. At the moment, I am struggling to plan for early 2015 (less than a year away) and finding it is nearly impossible. There are so many contingencies needed that having any plan is rather pointless, because it's not going to work out 'that' way. I mean, having goals is good, but plans are a bit more specific. It's hard for me, because I plan. I organise. I over-think. There perils of an OCD mind.

When it comes down to it, however, this is the same problem facing museums. The cultural industry seems to change on a pin head these days and there is now knowing if, perhaps, next month is the month you will lose your funding. Or perhaps that major grant application you just put in and don't hold out much hope for will actually come through. People are losing jobs left, right, and centre. Technology is bounding ahead (in fits and spurts for museums). Funding is ever changeable. It's very hard to future plan when you don't have any idea what the future will be like.

Obviously it's an issue facing a lot of fields these days, not just culture (and not just museums within culture). It's also a problem for a lot of people.

I know I need to get better at future planning, while still being flexible enough to amend those plans when the inevitable upset arrives. The PhD has certainly given me lessons in this in spades, and how I need to learn from those lessons and adapt them into my life.

My first plan? I'm planning to walk the Portuguese Camino in autumn 2016.

And if it's spring 2018, that's okay too. The point is, for now, that I plan to do it. 

Camino de Santiago

Walking is not a pastime for the majority of Canadians. We enjoy outdoor sports, even in the coldest depths of winter, but Canada is a huge country and before there were automobiles, there were horses. Canadians drive to work (or occasionally bike if it’s close and the weather is decent), to the stores, to their holidays. Most of us learn to drive as soon as we turn old enough and never look back.

Part of that is a horrible public transportation system, which doesn’t encourage leaving the car at home. Mostly though, it’s just that everything is a lot further away than in Europe. Canada is wider across than the entirety of the European continent, from west Ireland all the way to eastern Ukraine. Even the grocery store is a long way away from my house.

I heard about the Camino in 2005, when Heather Dale released Road to Santiago. I learned that Santiago was a place in Spain, that it was a pilgrimage site, that it was old, and that it was part of a much larger world of a time in Europe when nearly everyone walked everywhere. At the time I thought it interesting, but not particularly intriguing. I did a brief search on Santiago and the pilgrimages of old and then…put it out of my mind. In 2005 I didn’t walk anywhere, much less across an entire country.

In 2011, Emilio Estevez released The Way, but I didn’t see it until February 2012 when I rented it off iTunes. I rented it because it was Martin Sheen and James Nesbitt and I’m easy like that. I could watch those two in practically any movie and enjoy it. But I remember, from the first few minutes of the film that something about it spoke to me. I usually go in for action or maybe rom-com, but this one grabbed me from the start. I find most dramatic movies overly sappy and can’t get invested in them. This one, for whatever reason, was different. From the DVD menu with its map background and the first few humorous moments of the film, I was hooked. Even the music was perfect.

I watch it now and even the first notes of the soundtrack bring me to tears. It is beautiful and perfect, in a way so understated as to be almost ignored by the world. But this little film has changed so many people’s lives. So many people I have met have seen this film and made a choice that will forever shape their existence. How many films can say that? It did not set out to do that. It set out only to tell the story of a father and son, but somewhere along the way it told the story of the Camino too. And people flocked to it.

From the opening credits sequence to the last stirrings of the piano on the shores of Finisterre, it is beautiful.

And so was the Camino. Amidst pain and suffering there was joy and beauty. Life, in but a snapshot of time. Time to live each moment and to reflect each day. And perhaps the entirety of the Camino is very simple; perhaps the need and chance to walk it, is the only true miracle.

There is no other experience like walking across a country. An afternoon’s hike, or a weekend walking holiday do not compare. They are holidays, they are enjoyment and peace and involve little sacrifice, little suffering. Otherwise why would anyone do them? They are choices. The Camino is, in many ways, not a choice. It was not for me. I did not choose to walk it; I simply knew I had to. One clear moment of understanding in my life. I was meant to do this. Whether by fate or a higher power or simply by the desire to experience life that drives us all, this was always going to be my way.

Spain is a beautiful country. From north to south, east to west, it is in turns stunning and sad, breathtaking and unassuming. I had never been before. I may never go again. The Camino is part of Spain and yet not part. Those that walk the way are not visitors to Spain; they are not the tourists of Madrid and Barcelona. They are not there for a holiday. They are not even really there to experience Spain. They are there to experience the Camino and the Camino is not Spain. It flows through the country like the Mississippi flows through America, but it does not define Spain. It existed before modern Spain existed and it will exist, in some ways, long after Spain is gone. It sits in a time apart.

The Camino is not characterized by politics, or these days even religion. It does not care what your creed is, or your birth, your social standing or your mistakes. The Camino simply is. It is a line through the sand, but not a border. It is there only in your mind as a challenge and a task. Each day, each moment, something to be experienced and overcome. Each moment treasured before it is put aside in favour of the next. But the moments never pass entirely, only flow one into another, one mile into another, until the end. But the end is not really the end. You emerge in Santiago a different person from when you started, and you will forever be such. You carry the Camino with you each moment of the rest of your life, in memories and friends, and in your own self.

The Camino is a life changing experience. It cannot be otherwise. There is nothing quite like it, no other walking trail in the world quite the same as this one, as they are not the same to others. Each person walks their own Camino. There is no single path, but through every footfall that you take, you carve your own, leaving behind a trail to guide others.

At no other time in your life, except for on hiking expeditions, will you wake up in a new place each day. Nowhere else will you see a landscape change below your feet with each step you take. No other way will you experience hunger and exhaustion, pain and struggle on such monumental scales and revel in them.

It has been twelve months since I set off on my Camino. Not a day goes by that I do not wish I was on it again. Even on the worst days there were moments worth remembering. I do not know if my life will ever allow for another Camino, but I know that whether it does easily or not, I must walk another. It is a desire that sits in my heart and always will. There are some once in a lifetime experience that should never happen just once. This is one of them.

Perhaps I will see you on the Way.

We Come to it at Last

Yes, I quoted Gandalf. These things are necessary.

This will be my last post from Denmark. I have one week left here before I fly back to London.

It's been a ride, that's for sure. A string of personal issues and problems back in Canada have gone side by side with a really enjoyable time at a new university, with new people, inspiration for my thesis, and exploring a great country. So it's been a roller coaster and no mistake! But that's a bit like life in general, it's just all been condensed into a few short months!

I am looking forward to getting back now. I've reached that tipping point. I miss my giant bed and I definitely miss not having to climb up three flights of stairs with groceries. I also desperately miss the gym across the road and can't wait to get back to exercising. I have to run 5 miles in July, so the training starts next week. And really, I miss the department and all my fellow PhDs (and adopted PhDs). I'll spend the first week just catching up with people! It's the only thing I've really missed the longest, has been having friends around to have coffee with, but I've managed well enough on my own. I'm sort of conditioned to that.

My word count for my thesis is 35,000. I have another 7,000 of that planned out, but the missing 35,000 is what is worrying me. It's three chapters and at this point in time I have no idea what's going to go into them! I have a month now to figure it out (which isn't as long as it sounds). Hence, we come to it at last. This will definitely be the battle part of this thesis writing. I have May through July to draft it, so I am hoping to have a workable and very detailed plan by the beginning of May. The plan is always the hardest part, after that, the writing gets a bit easier. I am looking forward to speaking with Ross again and hoping he's as inspirational as he always has been!

On the other hand of writing (you knew there was going to be another hand), I have two novel ideas outlined, and one of them is at nearly 7000 words already (barely one chapter, in fact). I'm pretty pleased with it as a publishable idea (somewhere in the distant future *cough*nextyear*cough*). I will have to get the short guide book out first, because that's the time sensitive one, but that's Christmas' project. This one can be January or February's project, as knowing me I will probably have it written and edited by then. Because what better to do when you should be writing a PhD then to draft a post-apocalypse romance? Draft a YA mystery instead, I suppose. [Don't ask.]

I'm keeping busy, at least! And feeling generally pretty good about that half of my life. The other half will sort itself out in time.

Hindsgavl Slot

'Slot' means castle in Danish. 'Gavl' means gable. I haven't been able to figure out what 'hinds' means, but use some common sense and fill in the blank.

Hindsgavl, on the west edge of Funen is not really a castle. There used to be a castle there 1000 years ago, but when it was destroyed several centuries ago, what was built on the ruins was a manor house. However, it still retained it's title as 'castle'. It is the largest private estate in Denmark, though no longer owned by a family. Instead, it's a hotel and conference centre. And it's very grand.

Really, really, grand.

This is the front view, that faces the conference centre across the courtyard. The other side, that faces the water, is equally as grand.

The place includes enough grounds that I didn't get even half way around them in my hour walk, a massive conference hall that seats 600 people and room for more than 100 people at the hotel attached. The main house is mostly small meeting rooms and the various dinning rooms for guests. 

Every quarter, DREAM meets here to exchange updates on their research projects, which means that they host a group of about 20 people at this place. Doesn't sound like much, but this 2-day event includes some of the best food I have ever eaten, lovely hotel rooms, beautiful scenery and meeting spaces and staff to wait upon your every whim. This is how the other half of academic departments live, apparently. I'm a little bit jealous, but equally as thrilled to have been invited to the meeting this year, since half of it was in Danish and therefore I could not participate. It meant two long walks along the edge of the sound (despite March, the two days were okay weather-wise), a lot of food and conversation and only a little bit of research. It made for a nice holiday.

It is a blessing in academia when you have an extended amount of time to get to know other academics who study other subjects. You can't really do this at the average conference, unless they are extended multi-day events with lots of social activities, and you certainly can't do it in your own department. But this quarterly event allows DREAM to do exactly that. We spent a lot of time talking about What TV Shows to Watch when we are finished our PhDs. And also What Museums to Visit in Denmark. And a lot of, Isn't This the Best Thing You've Ever Eaten? Basically, everything a research gathering amongst culturally inclined people should be. And I caught up with a few old friends too.

Unfortunately, it hasn't inspired me to write.