the singularity of writing

Recently I have begun to feel bad for constantly writing about my PhD journey on this blog. It would be ok if there are interesting stories associated with it but for most of the time, nothing much that happens, except (hopefully) for the gradual titration of writing. The process is extremely internal and singular, akin to a marathon whereby the competitor is yourself. It is an arduos and self-absorbed journey that takes its toll quietly and surreptitiously as each day drips by. I can’t really talk about it with anyone because no one else quite understands it. I am the expert of the work and it is up to me to lay it out, filling the pages.

I guess it is not all that bad. While the writing can be slow some days, I am actually making some interesting realisations along the way; thinking that has eluded me so far but somehow, with a different mindset and perhaps some intellectual maturity/confidence, I am able to be more incisive about what it is that I am doing, its contributions, the flaws (or what I might do differently if I were to do this again) and what are some ways forwards with this work.

Meanwhile I distract myself by spending some time looking for work and talking to a few people who are much more connected with potential ‘employers’. Here is pure escapism as I dream of working in a land far far away from Australia.

the limits of disclosure

I know that there are certain things that I simply cannot write here, not matter how much they preoccupy me in my day to day existence. Apart from the fact that they are very private thoughts (some, reflections of other people) these private/silent conversations with myself are centred around me: my faults, my foolishness, my weakness, my failings, my stumbles and falls.

The (self)censorship of this blog is done mainly for self-presentation. After all, who wants to appear in a negative light? Further, given that this blog is linked to my facebook account, there are potentially quite a number of people who can access my thoughts/writings here. But sometimes I do feel the need to vent some really personal stuff and the public nature of the blog prevents that. I write when I am upset, disappointed or frustrated. So I end up resorting to lengthy word-essays stored on my own computer.

I think it is also a nature of my existence at the moment. I am the oldest around my friends and thus serve as a source of answer, reassurance, and advice. While that is nice, there isn’t anyone left in my life whom I can confide in. Bottling things up can eventually lead to unfortunate outbursts but there just isn’t someone whom I can feel so comfortable in just spilling it all out. I have none of that. I do however have two great friends who are now in the UK and that is just not the same – not even with the convenience of digital communication.