~insert another excuse for neglecting the blog~
Basically the only time I ever sit down and nut some of this out is when I’m at the laundromat. It’s the one moment during the week when I have nothing else to do but either a) sit and watch clothes spin or b) write. Unfortunately, the combination of summer (yes we have this in Melbourne) — when there’s no need for a dryer so I never make it to the laundromat — and my definite lack of inspiration has meant I have let the regular updates slip. My sincerest apologies, I know your all eagerly anticipating this piece of literature to grace the internet.
Ironically, I’ve been writing more than I ever have. Apparently, it’s not possible to conjure a PhD thesis from thin air the same way Mark McGowan can conjure new border regulations at the drop of a hat. A thesis, it seems, is much more grounded in reality. It takes an intelligent mind and a positive attitude. And in my case, when these characteristics are absent, accumulating enough hours of wailing and labouring over the keyboard is enough to brute force your way through the sucker. So after three years of mindlessly wandering through academia and football (sounds oxymoronic I know…) there is actually a deadline on the horizon now. The work must now actually get done. My body is ready. Like Rocky Balboa, I enter the ring against Apollo Creed. Like Gandalf, I face the Balrog in the mountain snow.
Thus, I have entered the panic stage.
Every good Uni student is well aware of this phenomenon. It’s present in most major assignments and definitely in any group presentation, when usually half the group has rocked up without any idea what the assignment is about. The difference for a PhD is the panic stage lasts for roughly the length of an entire semester. It’s painfully drawn out. Like the final season of Game of Thrones or watching the Christmas Eve carols with Ash’s family. To paint the picture, the panic stage is defined by a number of characteristics, including, but not limited to:
- Increased consumption of caffeine. The minute your brain begins to drift it’s urgent you kick it back into gear. There’s no time for a wasted afternoons watching volcano documentaries.
- Unawareness of social plans more than two days into the future. Your memory cannot spare the space for this. And the calendar is not checked frequently enough to realise you’ve completely missed your Mother’s birthday.
- Bags always under the eyes. It’s a common misconception that bags under the eyes occur due to lack of sleep. In fact, the truth is they contain the tears of a late stage PhD candidate which are spilled each time a supervisor sends through revisions of their work.
If you do happen to notice these traits in any of your other PhD friends, steer well clear of them. It won’t be a pleasant encounter for either one of you. However, if you are a kind and compassionate soul, intent on being a friendly neighbour, I give you these directions: Approach silently, within their direct eyeline, offering a cup of coffee as a gift. If accepted, you may engage in light small talk, nothing too stimulating as their brain is currently working at 99% and if your conversations tips them over the edge they are likely break down in a heap on the floor… or slap you in the face. Finally, a small pat on the head and a “hang in there mate” before you walk off will go a long way. But keep your eye on them when you leave. Late stage PhD’s are twitchy creatures and it’s best no to turn your back especially after arming them with a hot coffee. I’m just kidding. They would never throw away caffeine. They’re more likely to try and cripple you emotionally.
As the world begins to climb out of a pandemic puddle to see the sun for the first time in years I, regrettably, will recluse myself more and more. As much as I enjoy writing this blog, I expect it will remain fairly silent until late in the year. I doubt you will notice the difference given the usual absences. Perhaps the next time I speak I might actually have a job. What a thought! Twenty-nine years seems enough time wasted away to now begin contributing to society. If I am so lucky as to meet some of you in person in the near future, I shall endeavour to regale you with more epic tales of my life. Or perhaps, recite you chapters of my thesis? Have I enticed you to visit yet? At least I’ll let you know if it was all worth it. Chances are it wasn’t. It is sport science after all. Might need another degree…
