A PhD… Seriously …Whose idea was this anyway?

If we knew what it was we were doing, it would not be research would it?

~Albert Einstien~

It still amazes me how exhausted I am after a meeting with my supervisor.  At the end of one of these meetings, even if they were not to go over my writing, I feel like a deflated balloon. I wonder sometimes if it is only because I work myself up into a good little lather before the meeting actually happens. No matter how much preparation I put in, or how much Soca I listen to before to relax, or the number of attempts I make to get a good night’s sleep, I still end up in the office before 8 looking over one more thing, a little nervous as I walk through the door (with numerous papers and sometime a diagram or two) and I most likely leave with a tension headache.

Now please don’t get it in your head that my supervisor is a bad sort; he is a kind, knowledgeable person and offers a sympathetic even empathetic ear always… BUT!!! I want to feel more sure when I step in and out of his office. Since the change in my topic (even before that but since then it is so much worse) I have felt like I am floundering. The proposal I wrote was so clear, and it was so well-defined to me then: what I wanted to examine, what questions I wanted to answer and there was even some clarity on the methods I would use to answer those questions. I was comfortable with the literature and had a clear structure in my mind that would lead me where I was going. Now with this new topic, I am not as familiar with the literature and just not as sure where I am going. I have a vague plan but I will not be more certain, confident or comfortable (look at that 3Cs) until I am more familiar with the literature, know what has already been done and where my work will fit into the larger scheme of things. There are some days that that task seems so overwhelming and those days seem to culminate or begin with that meeting with my supervisor.

Although I always leave with a clearer direction and another few questions answered, I also feel an overwhelming urge to curl up in the foetal position or just lie down and relax… I am not telling the full truth; I leave with an overwhelming urge to have chips with lots of ketchup and salt, good chicken wings or a well prepared steak and a very yummy dessert (tiramisu or chocolate cake top that list) and then curl up in the foetal position or lie down. So now that I am trying hard not to overindulge and the deadlines I have set for myself are right around the corner I need to roll out of this post meeting misery a little faster.

I have heard and I believe that at the end of the literature review, I will be in a much better position. I will be more sure (please note not absolutely certain) of what my new research questions are, and with those, hopefully, a lot more will fall into place like my new research methods, the types of companies that fit my research criteria and the best way to tackle the next chapter.

A PhD… Seriously …Whose idea was this anyway?

Difficult Questions...

Your writing voice is the deepest possible reflection of who you are. The job of your voice is not to seduce or flatter or make well-shaped sentences. In your voice, your readers should be able to hear the contents of your mind, your heart, your soul.

~Meg Rosoff~

Thanks to Ian for asking these questions on Facebook some time ago … I have no idea where they came from but they did seem to spark a lot of thought for me. So I am going to share those thoughts with you.

The questions:

If your younger self had to see you today, what would they see? Exactly who you wanted to be, someone different who had to adapt...maybe the exact person you despised? Would you be happy with whom you became?

The Answer? My thoughts? Sigh …

OMG!!! Younger me had so much to learn … and life seemed so much simpler the younger I was. I have often said that I would love to go back to those days - maybe the age of 8 - where I never had to worry about how I would pay the bills, wasn’t yet too concerned about my common entrance examination (which dictates what secondary school you attend in the Caribbean school system and is completed at 11), hadn’t started puberty and thought that life was easy. I vaguely remember a stage where my greatest aspiration was to have at least 11 kids and be a good mommy. HAHAHA!!! Boy has that changed! I remember another age where I wanted to be an accountant, largely because it was all I was good at in school and it came so easily to me and my mommy was an accountant. I remember the age where I was terrified to stand up in Sunday School and sing or say anything. I remember when I first got the balls to say what I wanted to do with my hair (you know how big a deal that is ladies); I remember the age where I was learning to drive and going out with friends who had not first met my parents. What would that girl at any of those ages think of me now?

God Tara … you are OLD!!! LOL… being anywhere near thirty was ancient to any of those girls and having achieved what I have and had the experiences I did, I am glad; no, glad is not the right word, because there are some experiences you never want people to have but without those experiences I wouldn’t be the woman that I am now. I wouldn’t be looking forward to new experiences, love to travel and experience new cultures and meet new people; I certainly would not have the balls to up and leave home and pursue a PhD; I wouldn’t be the woman I am. But am I what I wanted to be?

Damn it! I am happy with who I am now. It has taken a long time to get here. I am still not and doubt I will ever be perfect and goodness knows I have a lot more to learn, but I am looking forward to doing it. I am some of the things I didn’t like when I was younger, but I have grown to realise that some things are necessary, like being there for people who mean a lot to you and that there is no easy way to do some things like end a relationship or discipline someone you love. Nothing in life is as easy or as simple as you thought when you were younger but then some things are.

Life is and my feelings about it and who I am are a kaleidoscope of conflicting, clashing and beautiful colours, emotions, memories, images, music, people, sounds…

Tara now, is happy with whom she is becoming … and Tara then, through her very simple and small lens, may not be totally happy but I forgive her for that. 

Back to the Grind

Never make your home in a place. Make a home for yourself inside your own head. You'll find what you need to furnish it - memory, friends you can trust, love of learning, and other such things. That way it will go with you wherever you journey. 

~Tad Williams~

I was more scared to come back to Glasgow this time... isn’t that weird? Last time I didn’t know where I was going to live, if I had enough money, wasn’t quite sure where anything was in relation to where I would settle or how I would eat… but it was an adventure. I was anxious but not as scared as I was when I recently came back. This time I do know where I am living, I do know where everything is and I have a kind of routine that should comfort me coming back…then why was I so scared?

I guess I should have started with the fact that I went home to Barbados for a LONG while and now I am back in Glasgow and my mind is again filled with ALL the work that I have to do to complete this PhD programme. I feel like I was on vacation for only three weeks though, as I spent the first three weeks of my return; working, teaching, preparing for my annual review via Skype (let us not even talk about that this toss), preparing my examination and being caught up in UWI. But boy did I pack in some action in those three weeks that I was mentally on break!!! AHHHH!!!!

I went to Pink Star with the girls (no livers for me though), Cooler Vibes with my crew (put yah hands on your knees and push it back), Scrawl up (twice) with both the girls and the crew and made new friends (destroyed my knee), Champers with the crew (had to wear my nice dress and tall shoes at least once). I visited Farley Hill (it never feels like I was home unless I do), Folkestone Marine & Heritage Park (they fixed the fence), Miami Beach (had lemonade at Mr. Delicious’ Snack Bar), Oistins (I had excellent fish at Fred’s Bar but I never got my fried pork chop), Carib Beach Bar (which closed while I was there; excellent calamari!!… sigh…). I didn’t make it to Bathsheba or a number of other places that I normally would have though.

I enjoyed the heat, the rain, the vibes, the music, the company, the sea breeze, the sea, the beaches, the food… I enjoyed being home. I think that is why I felt like crying on my way back. I wasn’t going to go to Cheffete Warrens (to eat what Tara?) and bump into several people I know and have nice catch up conversations. I wasn’t going to be able to pick up my beach chair and set it up at Folkestone and lie under a tree and read. I wasn’t going to be able to pick up my goddaughter and take her out to the park to colour in the sun or have a little picnic. Nah! Those days were over.

I was headed back to days of reading academic articles and trying to make enough sense of them that I could write my literature review. Honestly, I think I needed the break, I think I feel more ready and certainly more determined to do well… BUT!!! I am going to miss home.