Lessons from 2020

 In one of my posts towards the end of the last year, I had noted that the following six months would be my longest uninterrupted stint in Bristol. With what happened this year, sixteen months would have been a more accurate prediction. At this time last year, I was girding myself to finish my PhD and find a job in my department. Neither came to pass, but last year's aims and ambitions seem irrelevant now. The world has changed and is changing, and one's ambitions will also change. The best one can do in these tumultuous times is keep an open mind. For all the horrible things that happened this year, it did teach me a lot. It expanded the realm of what I thought was possible. I felt and vulnerable to Covid many times, but I also found hidden reserves of strength and fortitude that we never knew existed. It pushed me to do so many things that I wouldn't have contemplated in normal times. From jogging in the dead of winter to entertaining the possibility that it is possible to let go off some aspects of my personality that I have always struggled with. It taught me that one can find moments of peace and even joy when the world is burning, and one shouldn't feel guilty about it. That different people respond very differently to crises, and while one should refrain from judging them, one should also not feel obliged to make allowances for their behaviour at the cost of one's own well-being. It taught me that it is possible to make a conscious decision to disengage from a prickly person or situation without harbouring animosity. That it is perfectly acceptable to let sleeping dogs lie and even put some dogs to sleep. Lastly, I feel like I have become even more self-sufficient and self-contained over the year, but its too early to say for sure. 

Crimped Horizons

 How little into the future is it possible to look? I have been practicing two-three days, consciously trying not to look beyond that. I don't know if the uni campus will reopen next week, and if it does whether I will feel safe going back. The only luxury I am permitting myself is a plan to go for a run either on 31st Dec. or 1st Jan. Further out, I don't know if I will be teaching next semester or how my long I will take to complete, when I will get a job, when I will get a vaccine, when I will visit India again or when I will be able to step out of Bristol, when I will go on a date again. Is it possible to bring forward the horizon so much that you are not tempted to look beyond a few days? One thing I have noticed myself doing more is looking back. I have always been a sucker for nostalgia, but in the past few weeks long-forgotten moments from the past have been coming back to me. If the future is infinite, so is the past. 

Pushing on Many Fronts

 Will I ever get used to the chaos of PhD writing, where progress seldom according to plan and plans have to be abandoned or modified at the drop of a hat because the only other option is thesis paralysis? I keep making plans and I can keep dropping or changing them. I can confidently say that nothing in my PhD-no chapter, no progress report, no short-term goal--has gone according to plan. This doesn't mean I have done nothing or that plans are useless. If nothing else, a plan is that guilt-ridden voice tugging at your conscience to work. But, a creative and intellectual of the scale of PhD doesn't lend itself to planning. Planning is fine when you can see the path and/or see the destination. When you can't do either, planning becomes a speculative activity. I have learnt that the only possible solution is to embrace the chaos. When you get stuck on a chapter, take a break or work on something else. All work is progress and contributes to the thesis in big or small ways. Moving also gives you a sense of achievement and helps keep morale high. Which is super-important during a winter pandemic.

Two Meals Not Enough

Since uni closed for the winter break, I have been experimenting with having two meals a day instead of three. The trick is to delay breakfast, have a heavier-than-usual breakfast and have dinner slightly early. Or, so I thought. After spending the past week feeling colder and hungrier than usual, I have decided to go back to three meals. Reduced food intake and cold showers don't go well together, it turns out. Yes, myt activity has reduced but the cold showers seem to have turbocharged my metabolism. The last time I stepped on the scales, I weighed 73.5 kgs, which is the lightest I hae weighed in possibly 20 years. I don't feel sick or low on energy but it is slightly concerning. I have decided to make hay while the mercury drops and start eating red meat. I can't believe that I have been in England for so long, and haven't bought sausages. As it happens, the forecast says it may snow tomorrow and the next week is going to sub-5C. so what better time to gorge on red meat. 

Christmas Alone

 I have spent three of the past four Christmases with my aunt and cousins in Brighton. Although I am not big on Christmas traditions or any sort of traditions, it is a welcome change of scene and change of pace and its nice to spend some time with family. This year, when a change of scene and pace would have been most welcome, I spent it alone in my shared house. My going to Brighton this year was always out of the question. But, I was hoping for a nice local Christmas meal with friends, and, in fact, had two offers till last week. Alas, that was not to be either. My housemate tested positive for Covid, and since I had carelessly socialized before her result came, the shit hit the fan. I hurriedly excused myself from Christmas plans, because I decided I just couldn't take any more drama over me potentially infecting someone. One thing I have learnt the hard way is there are no social norms about what is acceptable behaviour as far as the risk of infecting others is concerned. People have vastly different expectations, and often hold others to standards they wouldn't hold themselves to. Covid rage is real, and one most tread carefully to preserve friendships threatened by differing attitudes to Covid. So, yes, I knew a week ago that I would be spending Christmas alone. Naturally, I couldn't be bothered to celebrate it. It was just like any other day except that it was exceptionally sunny. I decided to go for a walk during midday, thinking that at that time most people would be busy prepping their Christmas dinners. I only expected to find lonely singletons out and about on the downs. Alas, that was not to be, and the downs were teeming with large families and dogs. Hey ho. I caught some sun and returned to get on with the rest of the day. I am sick of listening to Christmas carols so it will be a relief when radio programming schedules go back to normal from tomorrow. 

Salvaging A Lost Day

 I've been struggling to finish the core chapter of my PhD thesis. All the stuff is in it, but I just need to figure out how to put it together so that it makes sense. Today, I had done nothing till about 3 pm and had started to feel like this was going to be another wasted day. So, I decided to work on my citations instead. Citations is the part about academic writing that I hate the most, so I always leave it to the end. To do the citations on a whole Phd thesis would require a week, which would be a torturous week. So, I decided to finish the citations of the chapter I am working and the next one, This is a tough time for everyone so keeping my spirits up is more important than being productive. But being productive definitely helps my mood. So, doing something that doesn't require too much creative energy is a neat compromise. 

Choti Si Baat

 Another movie that I thought was a classic fell from grace today. The plot revolves around a shy "nice guy" who stalks his love interest but cannot seem to summon the courage to talk to her. When another more assertive suitor enters the picture the young men seeks coaching from a retired army officer to toughen up. I remember watching this movie on a family holiday in Kodaikanal when I was 11, and enjoying it greatly. When I watched it today, the plot and premise seemed downright cringeworthy, Is it fair to judge old movies by today's norms? Especially, old Indian movies, since I have spent a long time in the West now, and have presumably absorbed some Western mores? I don't know about fairness, but it sure makes life more difficult. As it is, I struggle to find stuff I enjoy watching. But, the question of fairness is moot. If a movie offends your sensibilities you cannot enjoy it, end of story. One cannot talk oneself into enjoying a movie. 

Winter Solstice

When the clocks go back in autumn, it usually takes me a a week or two to adjust to the shorter days. Not this year. I adjusted to the shorter days without a hitch. Having my tea while listening to the radio in the dark is one of my daily pleasures. So, although today is winter solstice, and the days will get longer from tomorrow is not a momentous occasion for me. Although, I don't mind the dark and I don't mind the cold, this winter is far from over. Covid is raging, I have fallen out with a close friend, and my short experience of the job market has left a bitter taste in my mouth. My solution is to wrap myself in the comfort blanket of solitude. It is better to rage in private than to add to the public stockpile of rage. If all goes to plan, the rest of the winter will be a time of reflection, stillness and frenetic intellectual effort directed at my PhD thesis.

Panic-Buying Returns

 I trooped to Aldi at 7:00 am today, braving the rain, to beat the panic-buyers. France had closed its UK border to both passenger and freight traffic overnight. Since the UK imports most of its fruits and veggies from Europe, the news was bound to set off panic-buying. And, set off panic-buying it did. When I reached the store, the racks were so full that many goods had been left on trollies beside the racks. The store staff were gearing up for the onslaught. My panic-buying capacity is limited by fridge space, carrying capacity since I don't have a car and thriftiness. But, I, too, found myself buying more than I would require over the next week. I have criticized the when-in-doubt-shop attitude of the UK public, but a bit of panic-buying reduces your helplessness in the face of panic. When you have little so control over the future, you double down on things that are still within your control, such as what is in your shopping court. And a public primed for consumption cannot respond in any other way. Consume when you are sad, happy, anxious, joyous. 

Private Hells

 Another topic which I am sure I have written about before but can't for the life of me find. I really need to get better at titling my posts, possibly prioritizing utility over catchiness. Today's post is about how private hells feel less hellish when the outer world is hell. It is prompted by the cancellation of Christmas in England, and how many people will have to spend Christmas alone this year. But, surely that can't be worse than spending Christmas alone in a normal year, which would have marked one as abnormal, in one's own eyes if no one else's. How much can one feel alone if everyone is alone? I know, easy for an introvert to say. I have enough anecdotal evidence showing that people suffering from depression (not anxiety) have fared much better than expected during the pandemic. The outer world is a art of individual mental worlds, and changes in it can have a profound change on our inner worlds. Sometimes when everyone is alone, one feels less alone. In  such circumstaces, being alone doesn't grate on one's self esteem, because being alone is the norm. It doesn't invite questions, curiosity, concern or pity, either from others or from ourselves.  Judgement is suspended, openness is embraced. 

Waiting: The Theme Of This Month

 Waiting seems to be the theme of the month for me. I spent a week waiting for the outcome of a job I wasn't particularly keen on. And, now I am waiting anxiously for the result of a Covid test. I was an idiot and put a friend of mine, and her housemate, at risk of infection because I neglected to mention to her that my housemate was waiting for the result of her test. Said friend didn't take it well at all, and now I am dreading of the thought of informing her if the test comes positive. The spectrum of possible disaster stretches from me testing positive to her or her housemate failing ill with Covid. In the case of the latter, the guilt would be limitless. While I was waiting for the outcome of the job application, I thought neither outcome was preferable. Being shortlisted would mean I would have to prepare to interview for a job I didn't really want. Not being shortlisted would mean a blow to my confidence. but at least the outcome would put an end to the uncertainty. During my current wait, there is no such ambiguity. A positive test would set the stage for at least one more week of anxiety, till my friend gets past the virus incubation period. So, in this case, a delayed outcome is no worse than a positive test result. The clock is ticking on my friend's incubation period anyway. 

Covid Positive Housemate

This morning, I had decided to work on my thesis bibliography because I was feeling too fatigued to do anything more intellectually taxing. What I was not prepared for was to see an email from housemate saying she had tested positive for Covid. She had told us she was getting tested a few days ago, but she had a cold so we all assumed that was the reason she was feeling under the weather. I felt a pang of disappointment because I had just seen a friend last evening after two months and would have to convey the news to her. Also, there was the fear that I had caught Covid too, although I was and am symptomless. But, I did what I do best under anxiety which is I swung into action. I saw the email at 10:05 am and had booked a test for 11am on the testing site on campus by 10:15 am. I then packed all the things I would need over the Christmas break as that might have been my last time in the office before the two-week closure. After the test, I also got some provisions from the store, in breach of Covid rules.

I texted my sister to ask if I should tell my parents and she advised against it until I got my result. I hope they are not reading this blog. If I had told them they would have bombarded me with home remedies guaranteed to keep Covid away and also worried themselves sick. When I saw my housemate's email this morning, it triggered my anxiety. That familiar feeling of lightheadedness that had made my life so miserable three years ago. But, it wasn't very strong, and I have gotten better at not getting panicked by it. Once it swung into action, it subsided, and passed completely within a few hours. I know it will come back again, especially if I start showing symptoms but I am prepared for it as best as I can be. I whiled away the rest of my afternoon, but managed to pull myself together to do my shoulder exercises, and yoga. I did a practice for disasters, which made me feel much better. This is not a disaster yet, but I needed a preemptive boost. All I can do is take all possible precautions, and keep my spirits up. My survival instinct is very keen so I am not worried that I will slack on the precautions. 

Teaching Your Body To move Differently

 I am realising how difficult it is to teach your body to move differently, especially if the status quo is not particularly painful. I have a rotator cuff injury caused by rounded shoulders. The manifestation of the injury was pain in my elbow, which started early in lockdown when I took up an intensive exercise routine. I ignored the pain, but it got worse. So, I took a break from exercises for two months. While the pain subsided, it came roaring back when I resumed exercises. So, I decided to see an osteopath. The exercises haven't worked like magic. But, I persisted, because there seemed like I could not do anything else. My shoulder is apparently improving, but I only have to the osteopath's word for it. I wish he had given me an exercise that I could see myself getting progressively better at with time. But, most of these exercises are rendered useless, or even harmful, if I do not manage to keep my right scapula in alce while doing them. And, its been a struggle to stabilize my scapula. I don't know how many years of practice I am having to undo and every time I do the exercises, I get frustrated because I feel like I am not doing them correctly. I am having to draw on my hidden reserves of patience and fortitude. My latest idea is to visualize my scapula stabilizing and getting stronger. I wonder how far that will take me. 

Am I Working Harder Than I Need To?

My knee-jerk answer would be obviously not. I am struggling with the introduction of my final chapter and I am not anything close to the 10-12 hours per day that my supervisor says she put in the final months of her PhD. But, I do put in the hours. I'm at the uni from 8 to 5:30 most days. I just wish I put in more into those hours. Also, my shoulder is taking agonizingly long to get fixed, and sometimes I feel there hasn't been any improvement and that I am just going around in circle. I do suppose I am working harder than I need to, or at least stressing more than I should. This evening, I did a yoga practice titled fundamentals of ease, which dwelt on the topic of how to marry effort and ease. I am trying to enjoy writing my PhD now that I don't have the urgency of finishing it in time to start a job, but easier said than done. I know I am going to write a stonking PhD and I am going to finish it in the not-too-distant future, I just wish I would stop agonizing about it. The  thesis is a creative project and will take its time. Any rush on my part will only make a marginal difference to the timeline but a whole lot more difference to my  peace of mind. All I can do I is keep showing up and keep in good spirits. So, that is going to be my strategy. Keep showing up and keep in good spirits and try not too fuss about missing deadlines. I don't have a hard biting deadline and I shouldn't feel like a slacker because I don't. 

Personal Grudges

Its been ages since I felt someone held a grudge against me. I have met my share of nasty people, insecure people who felt threatened by me, people who got mad at me for screwing something up, and people I failed to build a rapport with for no conceivable reason. But I have not met many people who went out of their way to be mean to me for no fathomable reason. The last person I can think of this professor in engineering college who thought I smiled too much. When I was younger, I had trouble controlling my smile and would sometimes crack one during inappropriate moments. It wasn't a wide ear-to-ear grin and if I was a better student maybe the professor would have ignored it. I was never any trouble in class and my mediocre grades hurt no one but me. But the professor made a really nasty personal comment in front of the whole class, and I couldn't help but think he had taken an instinctive dislike to me. The only other person who I thought held a grudge against me was this teacher in school who would also make nasty personal comments in class. Teachers in India, at least during my time, got away with some pretty atrocious behavior. Shaming a student in public seemed to be their favourite hobby, and, naturally, sensitive souls like took it worse than others. Now, after so many years I feel someone in my university holds a grudge against me. Maybe they have a reason to be upset with me, but I can't think of one. The haven't been outright nasty to me, just inconsiderate. But, I can sense that they hold at least a mild grudge. Grudge vibes don't need words or actions to travel. You can feel them. So, what does one do in such a situation? If the person has power over you and you can't really fight back, try not to make the situation worse. But, at the end of the day, if someone dislikes you instinctively, you can't do much, although they can make you suffer. This one of the situations where the maxim you read a few weeks ago applies "It might be my problem, but it is not my fault.

Speaking To Desis in English

A couple of weeks ago, I was watching a TV show in which a well-heeled second-generation South Asian immigrant woman addressed a working-class woman in Hindi/urdu when they met for the first time. The working-class woman replied in jerky English. It struck me that I have had the same experience with some South Asian shopkeepers when I addressed them in Hindi. Did they feel I was patronizing them by speaking in Hindi because they weren't fluent in English? It is possible. Now, I don't initiate a conversation in Hindi unless the opposite seems friendly, and open to replying in Hindi. Class relations and class resentments change their form when the context changes. For instance, I have noticed that working-class Indians treat well-heeled Indians with less deference when there are white people also present. Is that because the presence of white people gives them a chance to air their class resentment? "i might have to defer to you in everyday life, but if there is someone higher than you, I can treat you with the contempt that you show me, give you a taste of your own medicine". Fair play to them if they do. 

Good Luck, Bad Luck, Who Can Tell?

 I as listening to a radio show today featuring an Australian comedienne who appeared in the same slot last week. She told a story about luck last week with a punchline I had forgotten, until she repeated the punchline this week. It was about a man living on farm who has a horse wander into his yard one day. His neighbours commend him on his good fortune. His response, "Good luck, bad luck, who can tell?". A few days later, his sons falls of the horse while trying to break it in, and breaks his leg. The farmer's neighbours commiserate with him. His response: the same as before, which is the punchline of the story. A few days later, war breaks out and all the young men in the area are conscripted, except the farmer's injured son. His neighbours marvel at his good fortune. His response: the same as above. its a pretty useful lesson for times when you think your fate hs it in for you, or when you are experiencing a stream of good forutne and are worried it will end abruptly.  

Relief!

 I just got news that I haven't been short-listed for the one-year job either, and, honestly, I feel mostly relieved. How you immediately feel when you hear about an outcome is a good barometer of what you wanted the outcome to really be. Not what thought you wanted or what you should want but what you really want. And, I know I didn't really want this job. To be sure, I am glad I applied because I would otherwise have felt guilty. But, this isn't a great job and the timing isn't great either. Yes, I will feel stabs of anger for not being short-listed for a job I feel I am clearly more than worthy of. I will explode into internal rants about groupism and favouritism from time to time. But, it is safe to say that I am taking it much better than I thought I would. I am relieved that I can focus on writing my PhD and even enjoying it instead of rushing to prepare for an interview just days before Christmas. 

One Down, One To Go

 One of the two events I was feeling nervous about passed today without  much incident. I was expecting a sea of red as feedback for one of my PhD chapters from a colleague who is very analytically rigorous. Fortunately, that didn't come to pass, and while there she gave me numerous  comments, none of them were soul-crushing. I am feeling much more confident about my core arguments now that they have passed muster with her. 

As for the other event, I continue to wait to hear back about the job I want and don't want in equal measure. It is a distraction from my PhD writing. Or is it that I am latching on an excuse to procrastinate. Maybe a bit of both as is often the right answer to either/or questions. I am not going to kid myself that I would be writing thousands of words a day if not for this job decision. Maybe it is possible to be slightly nervous about the job outcome while continuing to be reasonably productive? And, maybe being reasonably productive is all I should aim for? I have had virtually zero bursts of productivity while writing my PhD thesis. Progress has been painfully and it feels like I have had to fight for every inch. But, there has been substantial progress and the end is now in sight. It feels like this PhD is writing itself while I am not looking. 

YWA in NYT

 Today, when I listened to a NYT Magazine story on Adrienne Mishler, tears welled up in my eyes. Even as her fame  has grown by leaps and bounds over the past few years, and especially since the lockdown, YWA has become a bigger part of my life. I am quite a cynical person and hate hero worship. My personality type is probably the one that is lest likely to join a cult. Usually, if everyone is raving about something or someone it puts me off that person or thing. But, it should be possibly to feel intensely gratefully towards someone without turning into a worshipper. Adrienne has not disappointed so far. Nothing she has said or posted has irked me yet, and as she is a white woman who does yoga, it wouldn't take much to put me off. And, when she broke her informal rule of keeping away from political posts and posted about BLM it made me very happy. 

Fame can change people and it may yet change her. If it does, even though I will be disappointed my engagement with her yoga videos will continue. A person's work lives beyond them. They may outgrow it, or it may outgrow them. 

Over-optimization

 I have taken after my maternal grandfather in over-optimizing. My grandfather was one of the people who sought the most efficient way to do even the most trivial of things. And, he would insist that it be done that way, even if the savings of time and effort were marginal. He got away with it because of his charm and amazing sense of humor. But, I've noticed that I have over-optimization has become a habit for me too. Today, I left something cooking on the stove too long because I was finishing washing up while it was cooking to save time. I wasn't even in a hurry. As a consequence, I overcooked the dish. While it wasn't a total disaster, it was an entirely avoidable outcome.

So, I've decided to go about my chores more mindfully. I find doing chores destressing because it is a tactile activity that doesn't involve typing on a keyboard or starting at an electronic screen. But, I especially enjoy cooking and I am, I dare I say, a pretty decent cook. So, I should savour it more. yes, maybe that would be easier if I wasn't sharing a kitchen. I enjoy having the kitchen to myself when I cook, so I like to extend the same courtesy to my housemates. During Covid times, I try not to be in the same room as them. Then again, none of the others are big cooks, so there isn't exactly a queue to use the kitchen. In fact, my newest housemate and I have done such a great job of avoiding each other that we bumped into each other after weeks today. And, staggering timings is also an option. I am quite an observant person so I easily pick up on other people's routines and habits. 

Scary Movie

 I watched a scary movie after years today. It was not the scariest I have seen, but it was enough to give me the heebijeebies. I had started watching it last weekend but gave it up after 5 minutes because I decided it was a stupid thing to during the pandemic. Why risk making the Covid nightmares worse? But, today  I decided to watch it because it has been a stressful week and next week might  be worse. I needed something to frighten the daylights out of me and banish all thoughts of work from my mind for a bit. Something to release all the pent-up stress. A mental release rather than the physical release I treat myself to every Sunday.

This was my first scary movie after the onset of my anxiety disorder, I could feel it trigger me, but I remained in that state between excitement and anxiety. My mind and body felt stimulated, but not panicky. I remember feeling the  same way when I watched a movie in a cinema with my friends a few months after anxiety first reared its head in my life. I remember trembling with excitement and jumping at every loud sound in the movie. But I felt better afterwards. Sometimes when you are on edge maybe it is better to overstimulate the nervous system and force a physical reaction in your body. 

The Weight Of Tears

I was hoping to have the news about the job today, so that I could have had the weekend to cope with being proud but stressed or humbled but relieved. The plan was to come home this evening and induce tears whatever the outcome. The past few weeks have been hairy and I had decided that I needed some winter cleaning. When the job news didn't arrive, I decided to do the cry anyway. I pretty much have a drill in place. I start with a meditation session that is reserved for this occasion. Then, I watch youtube videos of children suffering from cancer lip-syncing to Rachel Patten's Fight Song and  Katy Perry's Roar. And, if all goes to plan, I start shaking with emotion, and hot tears start rolling down my cheek. Tears must be heavy, because I immediately feel lighter. I make no apologies for describing this self-care tool in such utilitarian terms. Crying need not always be a spontaneous outpouring of emotion. It can be planned and scheduled. For people who are not quick to tears, it can also be induced. It makes me feel better and I only able to cry if I am feeling weighed down by pent-up emotions so it is not completely contrived. 

Intense Next Few Days

 The next few days are going to be intense. I am expecting to hear whether I was short-listed for the 1-year lectureship. If I am not, it will prick my pride but I will be relieved that I wouldn't have to prep for the interview and could focus on my PhD for the time being. If I am selected, my pride will be salvaged, but I will be stressed about prepping for the interview while scrambling to finish my PhD. There doesn't seem to be a good option here. In addition, I am expecting feedback on the core chapter of my thesis from a stalwart who will, I suspect, rip it to shreds. Here again, I want her to because I want do write the best PhD that I can, but I am dreading the sight of red ink all over my work. I will need to draw on all my wellbeing resources to keep myself on an even keel over the next few days. 

Mountains out of Molehills

 Yesterday, I was having a reasonably day, until I got an email which threw me. The sender was the Economics HoD offering me hourly paid work even though I had not heard back about the full-time job I had applied for. Offering me crumbs even before telling me that my request for pie had been turned down. I wrote to her asking if that was the case and she replied they hadn't finalised the shortlist for the full-time job and that this was a separate process. That did little to quell my rage. The thing is I don't even want the full-time job that badly, and from a visa perspective it is probably best that I don't take it. But, my feelings of resentment against cliques in academia came bubbling to the surface and spent the rest of the day in a quiet rage. I knew I as making a mountain out of a molehill but I couldn't stop myself. I only calmed down after I did some dialogues like the sherpa had told me. I realized that I hadn't felt the need to do dialogue writing since March, which is an achievement in  a year like this, I guess. But, I realized that if you are aware that you are making a mountain of a molehill, you won't for long. The mountain will turn into a molehill soon enough. Maybe not as soon as you want, but sooner than you think. So, there is no point in fretting over it. And, sure enough, I felt much better today. 

Post-Dinner Routine

I have a pretty nice pre-dinner routine now. I usually get back from uni between 5 and 6, and if I don't have to cook, I make myself a nice cup of tea, which I drink sitting in the dark while listening the radio. Radio 4 has a comedy slot at 6:30pm which is usually good. I then do my shoulder exercises and yoga before dinner. Often, I laze about in bed before yoga and exercises so I end up missing my target of eating dinner at 7:30 pm. but, since it is the end of the day, I don't give myself too much grief about it. it is the post-dinner routine that I want to nail. The intention is to blog and then watch a TV series but I usually end up on Twitter, where I find something that incenses. If I don't hae a blog topic ready, I end up spending ages on Twitter, which cuts into my TV time. First-world-singleton-with-no-kids problems! But, I make no apologies for being so self-absorbed. This has been a difficult year for everyone, and I have coped well. I would pick self-absorption over loneliness and moroseness any day. Maybe I will become so self-absorbed that I might have trouble adjusting to life with a partner in the future. Maybe 10 months ago I would actually spent some time at least thinking about this concern if not worrying about. Now, it seems so trivial. 

P.S. A no-Twitter-after-dinner rule would be great for me, so I have just set my Twitter timer to five minutes. 

Liberals Giving Up on India

Liberal political commentators publicly gave up on Modi a few years ago. Liberal economists had been more charitable towards him, at least in private. Not any more though. A prominent Hong Kong-based commentator wrote a column in Bloomberg titled 'Why I am losing hope in India'. He was praised by many for his honesty, while a few castigated him for overlooking mass murder. The most honest line in the piece was at the end--'We wanted to trade some of our democratic chaos for a little bit more growth. We ended up with less of both'. Support for dictatorship among the Indian middle classes runs strong. Growing up, I often heard how the solution to India's problems was dictatorship. Of course, the people supporting dictators are the ones whose freedoms and rights would not be threatened under a dictatorship, Or so they think. At least not in the beginning. But it is just a matter of time before the right-wing lunacy in India starts to affect the quality of life of middle-class Indians in urban India. Like when they start banning movies and T shows for "insulting Indian culture". When they realise this regime won't be content on just beating up Muslims and Dalits or strike-happy trade unions. Middle-class contempt for all the groups runs deep. Not just indifference but outright hostility. I don't want to sound like a broken record, but I wonder if the caste system is the reason why "othering" comes so easily to Indians.

The Fabulous Lives of Bollywood Wives

 If BLM can be commodified and consumed, surely nepotism can be too? Another Indian reality show called the Fabulous  Lives of Bollywood Wives dropped on Neflix yesterday, featuring four wives of B-list Bollywood celebrities. Two of the husbands come from Bollywood families. Who would have thought the nepots of Bollywood are as vapid, charmless and annoying as we imagined? I would like to think I watched the show to critique it from a ethnographic perspective, but I was just bored. It is true, though, that I do pay attention to the sociological aspects. How do they behave with their servants (impeccably on camera), how do the servants dress, what cars do the stars drive, etc. But, there is not much you can glean from a show which has clearly been curated. You can't be sure if your insight is actually an insight or you have just picked up a curated detail of the show, such as how they are unfailingly polite to their servants on camera. Someone on Twitter picked up another interesting detail aboutthe gender dynamics that I had missed. All the women and daughters were haughty and entitled, while the men came  across as unambitious wastrels who were coasting through life on dint of their blood ties. And, just as pointing out racism is considered worse than being racist, there were a number of self-pitying rants against people pointing out nepotism. What remains a mystery is how do B-list stars maintain such lavish lifestyles? Also, one can understand A-listers kids getting breaks, but how do B-listers kids manage it? Without talent, without looks, without charisma. 

Cold Spell Begins

I was going to title this blog post 'Cold Snap' but discovered that too many old posts have the same title, so I decided to mix it up. Last night, the temperature dropped to IC, and tonight is forecast to be 0C. I knew I would have to be careful with my cold shower this morning, so I made sure I was bone dry afterwards and well wrapped up on my bike ride to uni. I have written before about how my physical ability is noticeably affected below 5C and, sure enough, the ride up the slope was a slog. But, it was a bright sunny day, and there are few things more pleasant than walking about in the winter sunshine, so I went for a long-midday walk with a friend. I had had a reasonably productive morning, so after lunch, and without an ounce of guilt I decided to walk home from uni while it was still bright. Most days, it is pitch dark when I return home, so I decided to mix things up a bit. And, this evening, I did that sublime cozy yoga routine which I only do during winters. I am not sure whether I will go for a run this Sunday because apart from the cold, my knees are giving me a little trouble. But, I have decided not to think about it too much. I am someone who has to force himself to rest when I am feeling inclement, but I don't like forcing myself to do anything at the moment. I will just go with how I feel on the day and in the moment. 

Inspiration

 Today, I watched a video talk by the guy from Cambridge whose department I am applying too.  I am glad I did because I came away inspired. He is Korean, but is nothing like the stereotype of the meek, soft-spoken. he pulled no punches when it came to railing against mainstream economists and even dropped the F-bomb. Passionate, blunt and with zero fucks to give. The kind of person I want to work with and the kind of academic I want to be. I have lived long enough to know how the public persona often doesn't match the person. And, even if it does in this case, he might be unimpressed by my application. But, nevertheless, I am inspired. This job will always be a long shot, but I am inspired to give it my best shot, not mince words or mind my P's and Qs in my motivation letter. It is moments like this that remind me why I am doing what I am doing, which applies to the job hunt as well as my PhD. I am passionate about economics, writing and teaching. Wherever life takes me, whatever I end up doing, I will find a way to pursue at least one of these passions. 

The Crown

The most popular show on Netflix UK at the moment is the Crown, which is based on the Royal Family. Today, I saw a tweet which made me chuckle. It said if you enjoyed watching The Crown, you are a (closet) Tory. As a post-colonial subject, I understand the appeal of slick productions which lionize Empire even if they are critical of individual imperialists. The legacies of Empire are everywhere in India, especially in its institutions. Growing up, one is taught to hate the British, but not the institutions they left behind, which turns the hatred into a not-so0grudging admiration. Which is why a post-colonial subject is instinctively drawn towards displays of British paegantry--dramatized, like the Crown or Downton Abbey, or real, like Royal weddings. I, myself, enjoyed Downton Abbey when I watched it 8-9 years ago. Now, after living in Brexit Britain for more than three years I couldn't bear to watch the show. It perpetuates the myth of Noble Empire to a public that doesn't need convincing. There are the vast swathes of the British population who are proud of Empire. Just this evening, I was telling my mother how the British are among the least religious people in the West. She was surprised given how popular the Royal family is. I replied that you don't need to be religious to be racist. Empire is central to British identity. Not only do I feel alienated from the people who are avid supporters of the Royal family, but also from those who think the Royal Family is an innocuous irrelevance. It is not innocuous and it snot irrelevant. Even if the reigning monarch becomes unpopular or brings himself or herself into disrepute, the idea of Empire will remain popular. 

My Problem, Not my Fault

 Over the weekend, I read a piece by an FT journalist about copping with Covid lockdown as a single woman who lives by herself. It was searing in its honesty, and I imagine it took a lot of courage to write. Admitting to yourself that you are lonely is difficult enough, much less admitting it to the world. The article echoed my frustration that marriage/coupledom is seen as essential to being happy, across countries and cultures. but, this post is not about loneliness, a topic that I have written about often, and will continue to do so. One line stuck with me, "Just because it is my problem, doesn't make it my fault". Amen. When we find ourselves in an unfavourable situation, we often blame ourselves, which is natural. how long can you blame bad luck? If you are of the over-thinking variety, it is easier to turn the critical gaze on to yourself. Bad luck is a conversation- and thought-stopper. It cannot be dissected without venturing into the realm of the supernatural. You and your purported failings, on the other hand, provide infinite opportunities for introspection, dissection and intellectualization. But, while tempting, this is not an innocuous past-time because self-talk matters. Repeated self-condemnation can corrode your self-esteem. So, it is preferable to blame bad luck and put an end to the internal conversation.

All You Can Do is Do Your Best

 A couple of days ago, I was having serious doubts about applying for a job at Cambridge. I decided that I only stood even half a chance if I wrote a kick-ass personal statement, so I wouldn't apply if I didn't. Today, I started writing the statement, and although it is not complete, I can see it shaping into something that I would be satisfied with. Of course, it is a long shot, but no one takes all the long shots that come their way. Obviously, I found something in this job advertisement that appealed to me, apart from the potential bragging rights. And, in today's yoga session, Adrienne's wise words chimed with my thinking--"All we can do is do our best.. and try to enjoy".  There is a singular satisfaction in knowing you did your best, be it for a long shot or a slam dunk. 

My Future in Academia (and the UK)

This afternoon, I spoke to the former professor who encouraged me to do a PhD and put me in touch with my PhD supervisor. He recently retired from the institute in Holland where I did my Master's after teaching there for almost 40 years. When we got to talking about my post-PhD plans, he discouraged me from trying to stay on in academia. His son has started a company to teach economics to business people and he said he would be glad to have me on board. I asked him to keep me posted.

I felt better after talking to him because it made me realise that I have many more options than I thought I do. I also realised that it wouldn't be the end of the world if I am not able to remain in academia , or in the UK for that matter. Especially at this point in history, when the world is going through multiple upheavals. There is no point in clinging to aspirations that were formed in the old world because who knows what opportunities the new world will throw up. This doesn't mean I have given up on UK academia. It just means that I am not fixated with staying here. And, most importantly, it means that I shouldn't worry so much about the future. I have many advantages that many others don't--no partner or dependents, I am in good health. I am footloose and fancyfree, prepared to go wherever my fate takes me. 

At the first few crossroads in my life, I just went with the crowd. I picked Science after 10th grade because that is where the smart kids went, and engineering after grade 12th because that is where the smart kids who picked Science went. After engineering, I was at another crossroads, but the path taken by the crowd was blocked to me. It was not an easy decision to choose the road less travelled, but it was the best decision I ever made. The next time I was at a crossroads was in 2013-14 when I was frustrated with my career and with living in Mumbai. There, again, certain roads were closed to me, and out of the remaining paths, I am very happy that I chose the one I did. Crossing that last crossroad was much smoother than the previous time. This crossing will be smooth too. 

Covid Mood Swings

 I have written a lot about Covid rage, but in recent days I have also identified what I can only describe as Covid mood swings. With a span of one day I can go from lethargy to inspiration to dejection to serenity and end the day feeling frustrated. A couple of days ago I had drag myself out of bed. SO you can imagine my surprise when I was feeling full of beans when I cycled in to uni. And, I ended the day feeling flat. As you know, in the past few days. the mere presence of acquaintiances in my life has been grating on me. Today, I felt a stab of irritation when a colleague came in to the PhD office in the afternoon, interrupting my solitary session. But, on a  whim, I made some some small talk with him, and my annoyance dispersed just like that. The lesson here is what most spiritual teaching alludes to in one form or the other--thoughts, emotions, mental states are transitory, so there is no point in being overly bothered by them. This too shall pass, so try to be in the moment rather than in the future or the past. 

Crisis of Confidence

 This evening, as I was researching the Cambridge department that I plan to apply to, the confidence drained from me. Most of the people working there have degrees from Cambridge. Those that have unconventional career paths like mine have impressive backstories. Like a PhD in physics from Cambridge followed by a PhD in historical anthropology also from Cmabridge, or twenty years spent working in an investment bank. I, on the other hand, have never been accused of being a high-achiever.

I have had enough episodes of confidence crises to know that it is silly to take decisions on what could eb a momentary fall in confidence. Of course, the Cambridge is a long shot, and to be honest, after going through the background of the people there, I am not too enthusiastic about the job. But, I am in a niche field, and there are very few places where I will feel at home. At some point in time, I will have to blaze some trails if I want to stay in academia. So, I am going to sleep on it instead of abandoning the plan. On Saturday, I am going to try to write a motivation letter. I have enough on my plate, so if the motivation letter is heavy going, I won't be able to give it too much time. And, I know there is no point in turning in a half-hearted application. With my (comparatively) unimpressive background, I don't stand a chance unless my motivation letter makes their jaw drop. 

MNFJ

It has really started to feel like there should be another category for people like me in Myer-Briggs called MNFJ--misanthropic-intuitive-feeling-judgemental. Today, I again lost it when one of my annoying officemates came in with a PhD based in another room, and made herself comfortable. It really feels like fate is testing me. Instead of getting respite from the acquaintances in my life whose mere presence gnaws at my nerves, said acquaintances are bringing more people into my life. I am not a complete misanthrope, but I strongly prefer my own company to even harmless company. If I manage to stick around in academia, I can't wait to be senior enough to have my own office. Living with and working with people I am fond of seems like an unattainable luxury. What I would give just to be alone. I have written before about how there are two antidotes to loneliness--finding company or improving the quality of your solitude. Sometimes, neither are an option, and one just has to solider on as best one can. Try not to be too much of a saint or too much of a curmudgeon. And, remember that I haven't permanently become a misanthrope. This is just a stressful time for everyone and the stress bubbles up in surprising ways. 

Proud of how I took the job news

It has been four days since I got news of the job rejection, and I am proud of how I have handled myself. The sting of rejection has worn off. I now feel like a person who has learnt that someone whom they though fancied them but whom they don't fancy, in fact, doesn't fancy them. If I have lost you, let me put it more simply. I thought person B fancies me even though I don't fancy her and I just realised she doesn't fancy me. I realise that someone without a safety net would be worried about paying the bills next year as well as being able to stay on in the UK. Since I have a safety net, I am not worried, and neither do I feel guilty for not being worried. If I am short-listed for the temporary job, I am determined to prove myself and salvage some pride. I feel like I am in the sweet spot where my pride is not hurt enough to get me down, but hurt enough to propel me forward. Not a bad place to be in at all. 

Busy Winter

I had been girding myself for a busy winter, but this winter is going to be busier than I had imagined. between job applications and scrambling to finish my thesis, I am not going to have much time to worry about catching Covid. In fact, in the past week or so, I have barely thought about the risks of Covid infection. I will be lucky if the pace of work lets up in the spring, but I am not counting on it. Hopefully, my progress will be like a parallel power circuit, where the more resistors you add in parallel, the lesser the effective resistance and the heavier the flow of current. This morning, I was feeling full of beans as I cycled in to uni. but, while I wasn't unproductive, all the beans didn't spill over into my work. I am aiming to finish my core chapters by the end of the year, but with every passing day, it is feeling like an impossible deadline. I have been waiting for that elusive writing spurt, for words to pour forth for the past six months, but progress has been fitful and laborious. Mysterious are the ways of the intellect, so the writing spurt might still come. All I can do is keep showing up, and not worry about my progress when I am not working. When the crisis possibilities are infinite, all one can do is keep the faith in oneself and in the universe. 

Bitter Truths

Yesterday was a day for licking my wounds. Today, I am better so I am going to try to suss out the lessons from this rejection. I knew the job situation is bad in academia and I paid lip-service to how competitive this job application would be. But, for some reason, I didn't believe that I would become part of the precariat. People prone to overconfidence often feel exceptional, so they need knocks to their confidence, from time to time. There is no doubt in my mind that I am intelligent and talented. But, I am by no means exceptional. Even if I have potential to be exceptional, my achievements as they stand are far from exceptional. Good, but not exceptional, like many if not most people in academia. 

This does not mean I should start feeling stressed about my job situation. It simply means that I will have to hustle to find a job, and hustle to finish my PhD soon. Hopefully, this rejection will be the kick up my arse that I need to speed up writing my PhD thesis.

Job Disappointment

 Last evening, I learned that I had not been shortlisted for the UWE Economics  job. It didn't come as a total surprise because I had a gut feeling it would happen. I thought I would be gutted if it happened, but the injury is mostly to my ego. I wasn't particularly enthused about the job. At the time, I put my lack fo enthusiasm down to Covid and PhD fatigue, but maybe there is more to it than that. The idea of a change fo scene sounds good. I like Bristol as a city but more as a physical place. I haven't really built a life here, and once a close friend moves away, my social life will become almost non-existent. 

But, coming back to the job, I was confident that I would at least be short-listed, if nothing else as a favour to my supervisor. Maybe I underestimated her pull in the department or how much she would be willing to pull for me. 

Two day ago, I wrote about how blessings often come disguised as curses. I have also written before about how sometimes life looks worse than it feels. This is one of those moments--it doesn't feel bad, but when I think about my situation dispassionately--visa constraints, brutal job market--it gets me down. As though my mind is telling me that I should be more worried, I should fret a bit. But I am resolute that I am not going to trick myself into feeling worse than I do. Yes, I am prone to overconfidence, so I should listen to the people around me when they think I am painting too rosy a picture of my fortunes. But I can be pro-active in my job search without being desperate. For now, I am only going to apply to jobs I am keen on. Maybe there will come a time when I have to spray my CV indiscriminately in the hoe that it sticks somewhere, but I will cross that bridge when I reach it. 

Trust Practice

As I have written before, I often choose my yoga practices based on my state of mind on that day. I don't consider yoga to be an antidote to the problems in my life. Or at least, I try not to look at it as an anti-dote. It is just a practice that raises self-awareness, soothes my nerves and chimes with my reflective nature. Which is why I do yoga daily, irrespective of whether I am in a good mood or bad. Doing yoga only when you feel like you need it is pointless because it is not an anti-dote but a practice. 

Today, I decided to opt for a Trust practice. I still haven't been told whether I have been short-listed for the job, and I heard on the grapevine that 174 people have applied. I fancy my chances with this job, and if I don't get it I will be gutted. If I am not even short-listed, it will be a jolt to my confidence. So, its no surprise that I have been a bit on the edge for the past few days. Today, I learnt that the university has advertised for another fixed-term job, which eased the pressure somewhat. Even if I fail to bag a permanent job, I can try for the temporary one. Not ideal, but at least I will have somewhere to land after I finish my PhD. The Trust practice also helped calm me down. Trust is not just trusting that the outcome you desire will materialize. It is much broader and deeper than that. It is acknowledging that the universe works in mysterious ways, and that blessings sometimes come disguised as curses. Trust is about trusting yourself and trusting the universe. Trusting that you will cope with whatever comes your way, and trusting that the universe is not against you. Doing your best and leaving the rest to fate. 

Tummy Stress Response

 Whenever I am going through a stressful I am always curious which stress response my body will pick. This time it is the uneasy-but-not-upset tummy. Nothing more to report than bloating and gas. The past few weeks have been a little rough. To add to my perennial stress about my PhD, I am also nervous about my job application and not catching Covid and frustrated by my shoulder, which has given me trouble for most of 2020. In addition, life hasn't indulged my misanthropy in the past few weeks--there are more people inhabiting my existence than I had hoped for during lockdown. It is what it is, and there is nothing I can do apart from leaning harder on my two pillars--yoga and writing. I have also discovered a new pillar--walking while listening to music. Walking by itself isn't a winner for me, unless my surroundings are enchanting. But walking while listening to music in pleasant surroundings can be quite relaxing. I am doing my best to try and reduce my screen time because I invariably end up on news websites or Twitter. So, apart from walking, I have a cup of ginger tea in the evenings while listening to the radio in the dark. There are so many small things one can do to make life a little more pleasant. I am perpetually on the lookout for such things now. 

Quality of Solitude

In the past few days, I haven't been coping well with the acquaintances that inhabit my daily life. To be clear, they have a right to the space they share with me as much as I do. But, I just wish they followed the lead of other people who seem to have temporarily relinquished that right. In office, it is just two girls who come in every day along with me. They give me no trouble, but their mere presence grates on my nerves. I feel like my irritability threshold is so low that I am in a permanent state of being miffed. If its not their habits, its their mere presence. On the home front, I was hoping that two of my housemates would be away during the lockdown. Alas, it was not to be. And, my new housemate has a heavy houseprint like me--she cooks a lot (like I do), but also has some mildly annoying habits. So, I have been feeling frustrated both on the home and the office front. When I write down the reasons for my frustration, it feels ridiculous. What else is there to do but laugh at my ow idiosyncrasies? Beat myself over it or feel even more alienated from the world? Nah, I am not that person any more. I will just laugh at myself.

Slacker Weekend

 This weekend I did what one is supposed to do on weekends: I slacked off completely. The creature of habit that I am I have a routine for weekends too. This weekend, I made a conscious effort to break the routine because I felt like I needed it. I had hit a rut with both my thesis writing and my job application, and I suddenly stated feeling colder than usual a couple of days ago. Since a few years ago, whenever My body experiences (mild) unusual symptoms I attribute it to mental stress or anxiety. So, this weekend, I decided to break away from my routine. So, I barely did any yoga, didn't blog yesterday and didn't go for my Sunday morning hill run. People like me, who are too self-disciplined, need to force themselves to slack off from time to time. When I find some activity which is calming or relaxing, I immediately include it in my routine, and push myself to do it everyday. Self-discipline is great, but at times it can make life difficult. It keeps you on track, but staying on the track all the time can be stressful. One needs to veer off from time to time. I suppose one needs to figure out one's type--if you are the type who pushes too hard, you should watch out for signs of exhaustion, and if you are the opposite you should be careful about not slacking off too much. 

My Relationship With Food

The other day I read a post on Twitter about how food in Britain is devoid of joy, community and closeness, which set me thinking about my own relationship with food. Like most Indian men, I didn;'t learn to cook until I was forced to. Looking back at my year living in Holland, I am amazed how I managed to survive, given how badly I Cooked. I had no clue how to cook using spices, much less Indian spices. I remember my favourite dish was rice cooked with chicken and vegetables flavoured with only pepper. I cooked the dish a few months ago, and was again amazed that I used to so fond of it at one point. In Holland, I ate out quite a lot, which is now wonder as I was a bad cook. It was only after I moved to England that my cooking skills improved, and with that came a change in my relationship with food. I always sued to think that while I had a healthy appetite, I always had low standards. I would make a terrible food critic, because I am so easily pleased that I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between good and great food. But, as my cooking skills have improved, I have become more discerning when it comes to food. I honestly prefer cookingmy own food to eating out, not because I am a great cook but because food standards and portion sizes in England are quite bad. I also put more care in planning my meals, consulting people for new recipes and searching for new ingredients. Many good cooks make very basic meals when they are cooking for themselves, reserving fancy meals for when they have company. My meals are not super-elaborate but they are as elaborate as they would be if I was cooking for company.  

 I am not a foodie by any means, but I enjoy cooking. 

Hearts over Heads

Last night, I had a long talk with an Indian friend considering quitting the US and going back home. The last time we spoke, which was a couple of months ago, I was trying to convince him not to because India is being ruled by a right-wing ghoul is smarter and more cruel than Trump. I was hoping a resounding defeat for Trump would make him change his mind, but even a Biden presidency wouldn't be cause for celebration. The difference between a Trump an a Biden presidency was the difference between being knee-deep and neck-deep in shit, as someone on Twitter said. So, given that even if Biden manages to squeeze past Trump, he will be in a very weak position. A weak moderate is as scary as a right-winger because the former fears the right and wants to inspire fear in the left. 

When I spoke to my friend yesterday, I made no effort to convince him to stay in the US. Where one choses to live, barring practical compulsions, is an emotional rather than a rational decision. The next few days, weeks, months, years are going to be very difficult, and most of us are going to use our hearts more than our heads to make decisions. Which is as it should be. How do you make reasoned decisions when standing on shifting sands and below a clouded horizon? The only thing certain is the world is going to look very different five years from now. How do you plan for a world that you haven't the foggiest idea about? 

Covid Rage

 I have experienced bouts of Covid rage infrequently over the past few months, but none as strong as today's. It started with being ticked off by marshals and shop assistants for gonig the wrong way on the stairs and not sanitizing my hands. I have always felt people who are rude to shop assistants and minders are twats, but this morning I felt the anger rise in me like a volcano. What was worse is the lower the status of the person confronting me, the angrier I felt. I managed to quell my anger, even though I was a split second away from saying something snippy. When there is a power differential, it is so easy to take out your anger on someone less powerful. And so unfair.

But, my rage really bubbled over in the afternoon. It took me by surprise, because I had just returned from a very relaxing walk in the woods near uni. I came back to find my colleague's housemate comfortably ensconced in our shared office. My colleague had introduced him when they were sitting outside. I had wondered at the time what he was doing there, but hadn't given it much thought. I was sething with rage for some reason, so much so that I quickly realised I wasn't going to get any work done and stormed out of the office. I later texted my colleague checking that he was only going to be there today. She relied in the affirmative. I don't know if that was the truth or whether she decided to rescind her invitation to her housemate because I had expressed my displeasure. I don't care. I know I over-reacted and that I can be very territorial about my space. yes, my colleague was wrong to invite him without even checking with me. In normal circumstances, I wouldn't have minded but Covid is great cover for my misanthropy. 

I am glas I messaged my colleague and clarified the matter instead of waiting to see if the housemate would turn up tomorrow. Hair-trigger reactions are generally bad, but not all anger should be quelled. Anger sometimes spurs necessary and justified action which in normal circumstances one would have been too ashamed to carry out. It is best if angers spurs measured action. but seeing Covid rage for it is is itself progress. I can watch out for it in coming weeks and months, reducing the chances of me doing something stupid in anger. 

US Election Night

The fate of the world hangs in the balance tonight. If the ghoul comes back to power, it will steady the regimes of right-wing fascists, which are currently under attack from the pandemic. It has always amazed me how much fascists borrow from each other 's playbook. If Trump comes back, a no-deal Brexit is likely, apart from all the other horrors this winter will bring. The fate of the world rests in the hands of one of two senile white men. As the atmosphere leading up to the polls was very febrile, many people epect violence whatever the outcome. There are too many angry white men walking around with military-grade weapons. And, Trump might refuse to accept the results if he loses. America is an empire in decline but there is a huge difference between an empire bursting into flames and one smouldering from the edges and slowly coming apart. If Trump comes back, a generation will lose faith in electoral democracy as an agent for progressive change. Mobiliazing on the streets, and enduring whatever violence that entails, will eb the only option.

Letting It Be

 The "Let It Be" post-it notes above my desk at home and at work are going to be doing a lot of heavy lifting during the pandemic. Yesterday, I got the feeling that my bumptious randy housemate was preparing to spend the lockdown with her parents. Today, she had a bloke over, and they seem very lovey-dovey. It struck me that she might not be planning to go home to her parents if it means being separated from this bloke. Then it struck me that this bloke might spend more time at our house if both he and my housemate have been furloughed over lockdown. I spent an hour or so contemplating this possibility with increasing moroseness. My housemate is loud--she makes her presence felt when she is in the house and awake, and most of her guests seem to be loud too. I start feeling irritable if there are too many people in the house, especially if a guest takes up the noise quota of two people. Finally, it struck me that we were going to be under lockdown and having people over was barred. I immediately made up my mind that I would unleash hell if he kept visiting after the start of lockdown. After all, "Let it be" is not a panacea, at least not for most people as we are not saints. Sometimes, "Raise Hell!" is the solution. Knowing when to let it be and when to raise hell is, of course, the million-dollar quesion.

Lockdown No. 2

 I woke up to news that the government will announce a second national one-month lockdown to start next week. Unlike the first lockdown, schools are universities will remain open, though I doubt for very long. I give it two weeks. Life doesn't rally change for me. In fact, it might change for the better if my annoying housemate spends the lockdown with her parents. I have decided to continue working from university until they close down the campus. The decision to keep universities open is a terrible one, and I sympathize with colleagues being forced to teach face to face. But, if the university campus is going to remain open, I am going to keep going without feeling guilty about it. Working out of university involves minimal Covid risk, is good for my mental health as well as my productivity, so why stop? I have been girding myself for a tough winter for months, and I am not going to make it tougher on myself with needless guilt. 

Maxims for Winter

In the past few months, I have increased my reliance on maxims, so much so that I have them written on posit-it notes in fromnt of my desk at home and at work. What should my maxim be for getting through this winter, especially as I don't just want to survive, I want to thrive. Not only do I want to stay Covid-free, I want to finish my PhD and get a job. So, the universally applicable "this too shall pass" is not good enough. Other contenders? I am leaning towards something super simple like "breathe", which I have in front of my desk at work, but not at home. I have written before about how the breath transcends the physical, the mental and emotional spheres. When you focus on your breath, the world outside your body ceases to exist, if only for a few seconds. your body becomes your world. It is like a simultaneous physical, mental and emotional reset. I often feel a wave of calm wash over my body. The only comparable feeling in physical terms is when I experience sexual release. 

So, yes, I am going to go with "Breathe!". I don't need anything that makes me think because chances are my mind will be over-stimulated as it is. I definitely do not need something new-agey like "Allow yourself to feel what you are feeling".

Harmonious Action in Tough Times

 This has been a tough week. As the second wave of Covid envelopes us, my anxiety level has been rising, and the non-Covid news has also been relentlessly. And, just to add to the general air of frustration and helplessness, my shoulder shows no signs of improving. Today, when I saw that Labour suspended Jeremy Corbyn, I had just returned from a walk in the rain to clear. I groaned, as the news sent me into paroxysms of rage. At the current rate of bad news, I would have to walk all day to clear my head. I managed to complete my job application, but apart from that the day was a disaster. And, to top it all, I had possibly the lousiest session of online yoga ever. In a typical session, there are usually one or maximum two exercises that don't suit your body. This particular routine was filled with them. Instead of leaving the yoga mat feeling more clam and collected, I was quivering with frustration. 

As Adrienne says, "these things happen. they are beyond our control". Life asks us to spin many plates at the same time. The good ones distract us from the bad ones, but sometimes it happens that we are spinning mostly bad plates. Such moments are tough. All we can is do our best, ware that our best might not be enough to change outcomes. and, by best, I don't necessarily mean hard but harmonious. Harmonious with our world-which includes our mental, physical and emotional beings. With time, one gets better at listening to these different beings, and deciding the most harmonious course of action or inaction. one also becomes better at being peace with the world when it doesn't resond to our harmonious actions with the outcomes we desire. 

Mid-Day Walk

 I have started going on mid-day walks in the vicinity of the uni whenever the weather permits. I started going on walks to spend some time away from my desk and give some respite to my eyes and impinged shoulder. I noticed that I had too little progress to show for all the time I was spending at my desk at uni. So, I decided to consciously spend less time at my desk. I haven't noticed a jump in my productivity since, but at least it is better for my body. Spending time outdoors during autumn/winter is also good for my mood. I can't remember the last time I didn't leave the house at least once in 24 hours. Yesterday, I foudn a new route that took me into bonafide woods. This is England, so one is never too far away from habitation. But, I had earphones on, and a willingness to unsee the house roof tops that occasionally sawm into view, so I had a very nice walk. Its a pity that the route will be too muddy to frequent during autumn/winter. But, come spring, I can see myself going there quite often. 

Living under constant threat of a lockdown, I find myself grasping every opportunity to do something that would be prohibited under lockdown. Meeting friends, working from uni. Last week, I thought I would work from home on a particularly rainy day, thinking it would serve as an acclimatization exercise for the inevitable looming lockdown. But I just couldn't bear to sit at home and realised that it was a silly idea to practice for lockdown when we are not locked down. If and when we are locked down, I will be disappointed but I definitely will be able to cope like the last time. There is no point in practicing to cope in a situation where you have no choice but to cope. 

Thinking About Writing Acknowledgements Too Soon

Last night, I read a Facebook post by an acquaintance about writing the acknowledgements of her PhD thesis. It went through all the people she was grateful for, ending with her saying she had decided not to have an acknowledgements page. It was nice to see someone else who was not a fan of acknowledgments. I didn't have one for my Master' thesis, and was toying with the idea of not having one for my PhD. Friends have helped me as friends, and family had supported me as family does, and my supervisor is brilliant and kind-hearted, if a little difficult to get hold of. But mostly by good fortune, but also by my hard-work and self-belief, I hadn't need "saving". There is no one who has made an sized contribution to my PHD, a person whom I can say if not them, I wouldn't be writing these words, or some such. Until it struck me that I was speaking to soon because the acknowledgements section is the very last thing people write in their PhD thesis. I am still a couple of months from submission, and might yet need saving. I might still wrack up debts that I might feel need acknowledgement in writing. All I can say is where I am right now, I don't feel like having an acknowledgements section. But my feelings might change when I am at the end of my PhD journey.. There will be a time to discuss my thoughts and feelings about writing acknowledgments, whether it is Anglo-centric, etc. etc. But now is not the time for that. There is still a lot of work to be done.  

The Long Winter Begins

 The clocks went back last night, making today the first day of winter. I am aware I am treating the end of daylight savings time as a momentous event, but for many of us it the start of a long difficult winter. I don't really mind the shorter days, although I feel discombobulated for the frst week or two on GMT. I spent five of the seven months of GMT+1 at home. Most people are still working from home, so they hae been home since March. I have a lot to do over the next five months--finish my PhD, apply to jobs, while trying not to catch Covid and not to get buffeted by world events--the U.S. election, the prospect of no-deal Brexit, and the progress of the pandemic. And, of course, whatever fresh horror emerges from India. So, it is understandable that may people, myself included, are going into this winter with a sense of trepidation. Who knows what my world and the world will look like when the clocks go forward five months from now? All I can do is pray and hope for the best.

Last Day of Saving Daylight

 The clocks go back tonight, and it will be dark by 5:00 pm tomorrow evening. I have a ritual yoga practice to mark the occasion, so at least that is something to look forward to. Usually, I would be writing about how the days go from being too long in summer to being too long in winter in a flash, with the optimal duration of day and night lasting for approximately a month each in spring and autumn. But, the end of daylight savings time this year is naturally clouded by Covid. We entered lockdown a few days after daylight savings began and it seems like we will be reentering lockdown again in a few weeks. We have only been locked down when the day were long. I don't know which is worse---being locked down in summer, or winter. To be honest, England was never under a strict lockdown and people religiously followed the lenient lockdown for approximately a month. After that, adherence dropped steadily. This time around, all indications are the public will not follow the lockdown. it is going to be an uncertain five months. 

Elbow Update

A few days ago, I was feeling frustrated with the lack of progress on relieving my elbow pain. I had all but decided that I would ditch the osteopath if my elbow/shoulder didn't rapidly improve after this week's appointment. But, as today came closer my frustration ebbed, thanks mainly to my yoga practise. I managed to keep myself from rushing towards the doomsday scenario of neer being able to do upper-body exercises again and by the time today rolled up, I didn't have to worry about sounding excessively bitter at today's appointment. The osteopath said my range of motion had improved, and I should be patient. He asked me to continue the exercises and also taught me some new ones. I left the appointment feeling much more optimistic. 

There was one thing that perturbed. I noticed that I was sharing much more about my life than I ordinarily would. For instance, I told him that my PhD was gong much better now than a month ago, and my supervisor is hard to get hold of. Later, I was flabbergasted by myself. Why had I shared these details with a chatty stranger? Is it because I felt pushed to make small talk because of his chatty nature, and because I was bad at making small talk, I shifted to big talk? I am a private person, and sharing more than necessary makes me feel exposed. Another tendency is to turn small talk into an intellectual conversation. My osteopath remarked how economists never agreed with each other, and I said something about economists' prestige being undeserved after the Great Financial Crisis. 

I am never going to be great at small talk, but I can at least get better at not feeling like an idiot after a small-talk encounter by a) turning it into an inttelectual conversation when the opposite person hasn't shown they will be receptive to it b) divulging details about my life c) trying too hard to banter and ending up saying something stupid. 

Being Grateful Without Being Fearful

 Living through a pandemic has made me realize there are so many things I am grateful for--I have remained in good physical and mental health and so have family and close friends. I have enough to keep things to do to keep my mind occupied intellectually, and no money troubles. But, in moments of anxiety, that gratitude turns into fear. Fear that all I have to be grateful for could be lost in an instant. Is it possible to feel grateful without feeling fearful/ Gratitude grounds you, it makes you feel one with the world. It is humbling and empowering at the same time. Humbling because you realize if life feels good at a particular point in time, it is mainly because the world is being kind to you. Empowering because you realize you can also be kind to yourself and to the world, making yourself a part of someone else's good fortune. So, what about fear then? Does fear ground you too? Sometimes, it grinds you down, but often it is a motor for action. But, I am only human. I wish I felt more gratitude and less fear.

Turning 35

 I was just going through what I wrote on my birthday last year. I had predicted I would have submitted my PhD by my next birthday and possibly even have a job in academia. Oh boy, how wrong I was, and I say this without the least trace of disappointment or regret. It has been a tough eight for everyone and while I have been more fortunate than many people, I ahve also coped pretty well from my side. My PhD hasn't progressed anywhere near as fast that I had hoped it would, but I managed to keep it moving throughout and it seems my arguements are beginning to fall into place now. I am also trying for a lectureship in my department. All in all, there is lots to do in the next six months and not much I can complain about at the moment.

I didn't do anything special today, but I had an early birthday celebration with two friends a few days ago. So, when people asked me what I was doing for my birthday, I had a ready answer. I wonder what I would have answered. Maybe I would have fibbed that I planned to celebrate it jointly with a friend who has his birthday tomorrow. I would definitely not have felt sorry for myself if there had been no celebration at all, but I am not above lying to appear to fit into social norms. Maybe one day I will have the confidence or nonchalance to not feel pressured to lie. maybe the pandemic will make flouting norms feel more normal, ro at least give flouters more confidence. 

Forcing Myself to Have No Opinion

In the latest installment of the shitstorm that is 2020, a Muslim teenager beheaded a teacher in Paris for showing cartoons of Prophet Mohammed to his class ostensibly exercising his right to free speech. The news made rightwingers and Islamophobes salivate, momentarily taking their attention from Covid conspiracy theories. I forced myself to have not to think about it, which might seem ironic since I am writing about it. But, I am actively suppressing my tendency to form an opinion about the incident. After the Charlie Hebdo murders in 2015, I found myself in intense debates about the incident spanning Eurocentric liberalism, and the need to condemn the murders while also criticizing Charlie Hebdo's Islamophobia. This time I am simply not interested in taking a position, however nuanced. I am not interested in contemplating the possible repercussions of the incident on stoking Islamophobia, on white liberals, on anything. Will I able to extend this attitude of detachment to incidents closer to my adopted or original home and save myself from a lot of angst? I don't know, but I am certainly going to try. 

The Tearjerker

Today, I deployed the tearjerker after months. Over the past few days, I have been oscillating between joy and melancholy, but today I was feeling bluer than usual for no particular reason. I felt overwhelmed by the stress of the job application and the PhD, not to mention the second wave of the pandemic looming larger on the horizon with every passing day. My heart felt heavy with emotions, so I decided I needed a cleanse. I did the meditation session that usually makes me emotional, serving as a warm-up for the tera-jerker. But, the meditation session did nothing for me today, possibly because I didn't use earphones. 

However, the tearjerker worked like a charm. I was a little apprehensive because it had failed the last time I tried it a month or so ago. But today, the taps started flowing within the first few seconds of the first video. Crying can be very satisfying and cathartic, even if one has to pay mind to wooden walls and sob silently. I went through my routine, immediately feeling much lighter. It took me a while to realise that the physical act of crying could work as a therapy for me. The mind and body work together in ways that are hard to fathom, but one need not understand how works to use it. Else, we would never be able to use any machine or appliance. 

A Happy Evening In A Burning World

Another happy evening in a burning world. My supervisor returned a chapter with positive comments and a close friend made a plan to celebrate my birthday. I am not big on birthdays, but with the sword of a national lockdown perpetually hanging over us this autumn, any opportunity to socialize with loved ones is not to be missed. And, I built bridges with another friend whom I had minorly fallen out with. I was concerned about him, but turns out he is okay. In another age, I would have been miffed he had not taken the initiative to patch up because he was responsible for our kerfuffle, but not in this age. 

In a burning world, a happy evening is just that, a happy evening, but not something to thumb your nose at. When both near and distant future of the whole country(s) is so uncertain one can only live in the present and make what one can of it. Will that be one of the big learnings from the crisis? To occupy the present fully, and not allow it to be clouded by memories of the past or fear of the future? How to enjoy the anticipation of good things even if those things don't materialize, even when the fear of illness or death is ever-present.

Hip Trouble

"Out of the frying pain, into the fire" might be a bit of an exaggeration but I feel that way as the posture corrections that my osteopath suggested for my rotator cuff injury are causing pain in my hip. I have a wonky left hip which has given me trouble on and off for the past 10 years, So when the hip pain came on without any noticeable improvement in my shoulder, I felt dejected. Shoulder pain has been dogging me since the beginning of the lockdown, and the way things are going, it doesn't look like I am going to be able to go back to my regular exercise routine for months. As a friend says, "Hey Ho!". I am doing my best to get rid of the pain. I have been to an osteopath, and I am following his advice religiously. Like with most things in life, my shoulder will not recover as fast as I want to but faster than I fear. There will be days of frustration and further course correction might be necessary. But, that's not the end of the world. No point in going straight to doomsday scenarios on bad days. I just have to have faith in my boy, which will be easier to do on some days than on others. And, that is fine.

Subroto Roy Sahara

 Today, I finished watching a documentary series on Subroto Roy Sahara, who ran possibly the world's biggest Ponzi scheme for decades. The film was very mediocre and the extent of their research was interviewing journalists who had covered the case when it broke out a few years ago. but the film took me back six years, when I was working for The Wall Street Journal/Dow Jones Newswires. I was assigned the story and relieved of my regular beat because the WSj deputy bureau chief took a shine to me.

The story took me to many places I would never have visited otherwise. Lucknow, Gorakhpur, Dhubri, Silliguri, villages in Rae Bareilly, apart from New Delhi and Kolkata. In hindsight, it was fun but at the time I remember feeling like I was completely out of my depth. Subroto Roy was no garden-variety rogue. Rumour had it he was a benaami for some of India's biggest political leaders--he held and invested ill-gotten funds on their behalf. By then, it was obvious to me that I wasn't a newshound. My core competency in journalism was my writing skills and my intelligence. i had no talent for ferreting out news, especially in a place like India. where the standard of streetsmartness is very high. 

No one broke any big stories about Subroto Roy except for a exceptionally well-connected banking reporter whic had extensive contacts within the central bank. Among India's rogue billionaires, Soubroto Roy is the most enigmatic. No one has a convincing explanation for the source of his wealth. I just wish I had set my expectations lower and treated the assignment as a holiday. But, I was too conscientious. 

Nightmares vs Sleeplessness

Exactly six months ago, I wrote a post about how I was having trouble sleeping for the first time in years. That was a few weeks into lockdown, when death rates were soaring and the air was heavy with fear. I remember I was visited by bouts of sleeplessness that would last a few days every two-three weeks. As the pandemic eased and death rates fell my sleep improved, and I haven't had trouble sleeping for months now.

Last night, however, I could feel that my anxiety levels had perceptibly risen, along with the soaring infection rates as we gird for a second wave and possibly a second lockdown. To add to my stress, the next month or so is crucial for me as I am preparing a job application and trying to turbocharge my thesis writing. If Covid wants to strike at the worst possible moment, it would be now. So, I was prepared for the first of possibly many sleepless nights. During such phases, it often happens that I feel drowsy during bedtime, nod off for a few minutes and wake up with a jolt that sweeps my drowsiness away. While that happened last night too, it wasn't a precursor to a sleepless night. I managed to sleep but was assailed by multiple nightmares, which I could remember clearly when I woke up in the morning. But, as it often happens with nightmares, I couldn't remember even one a few hours later. A friend told me a few weeks ago that she had been getting the most bizzare nightmares too. She is going through an extremely stressful situation so I wasn't surprised. But, maybe nightmares are a coping mechanism, as the brain processes the various negative emotions experienced during the day. I am sure neuroscientists and scientists have studied nightmares extensively, but the point of this blog is to hold forth on subjects with a rookie's confidence. Whatever the physiological purpose of nightmares, I would take them over sleeplessness any day. 

Another Housemate To Exit

 When I got a mail from the landlady this morning telling us she will be dropping by for a viewing today, I took the news without missing a beat. My housemates have become so peripheral to my life that they are almost interchangeable. Don't get me wrong--I get along perfectly fine with them. But it would be a stretch to even call us acquaintances. And, I couldn't be more satisfied with this arrangement. I know this arrangement where I am indifferent ot people I am living with cannot go on for years. If nothing else, I will start to resent the presence of strangers in my habitation, eventually. But, six years into my second stint as a student, I feel I have reached the peak of adjustability. It has surprised me how adjustable I have become without becoming a doormat. It takes years to learn to carve out as small a pace as you can live in, but then occupying that fully. Not tolerating encroachments into your nook. 

Its not all hunky-dory though. While I have seen three housemate changes in the past 10 months, but the one I hope will move out steadfastly clings on. But, even she has been occupying less space in my head compared to a few months ago. 

Employment Prospects

 I woke up in a funk today, so instead of going to uni and whiling away hours on Twitter and news website, I decided to go for a haircut and do some food shopping in the neighbourhood. It was a good idea because I was feeling much better when I reached uni around half 11. As soon as I booted my computer, I checked if they had advertised for job openings in my department and I discovered they had. The news threw me into a tizzy and I went from feeling demotivated about work to feeling nervous with excitement. After popping in to see my supervisor to convey my enthusiasm for the job, I started working on the logistical bits of the application to work off the nervous energy. I was too excited to do any actual writing, either for the application or on my thesis.

The next few weeks are going to be extremely busy. I am worried that I will be too focussed on my job application to work on my PhD, which will put me further behind. However, applying for jobs is not a month-long full-time job. So, I am going to try to work on my PhD thesis when I am bored of writing the application and vice versa, instead of trying to draw up a schedule of work and allocate a fixed number of hours to each endeavour. That ahs never worked for me. 

Conspiracy Theories

This morning I had an argument with my Mum on Whatsapp about Covid-19 pandemic being planned by pharma companies. She had sent a link to a page with weak circumstantial evidence about how people had been warning about the pandemic. After my uncle pointed out that the author of the piece was a right-wing conspiracy theorist, my Mum said we didn't have to agree with everything he said. The argument spilt over into our evening telephone cal,l along with the evergreen debate about whether class or caste are the primary form of oppression in India today.

In ordinary times, I would be concerned that my Mum has an affinity towards right-wing conspiracy theories, but these are not ordinary times. Everyone is coping as best they can. In these emotional times, it feels neigh impossible to bring someone to your side of the argument with points that you find eminently reasonable. And, which the opposite person feels are steeped in emotion. It feels so difficult to see the opposite person's point of view in any debate that one wonders if there is any point in even trying. Maybe there isn't. Maybe verbal sparring helps people let off steam but I find it emotionally draining, especially with loved ones. I discuss the news and current affairs with my parents regularly and the conversation has always been amicable, except for today. While there was no shouting or screaming, there was definitely a sharp edge in the conversation. 

Quality of Solitude

 There are two ways to tackle loneliness, apart from doing nothing and letting the feeling pass. To seek company or to seek a higher quality of solitude. In Covid times (and for an international PhD student in a tiny programme) the latter is the easier option. I am going through a lean patch in my PhD, which is when boredom and loneliness are most likely to strike. So I decided to go in to uni today even though it was pelting, I walked because I would have been drenched if I had cycled. So, I walked to uni while listening to music on my phone. The walk was a slog because I was walking into a headwind but when I reached my office and saw the full-length window panes covered by water droplets (from the oustide) I knew it was worth it. The sight of water trickling down glass panes is strangely soothing to me, and watching the rain while jazz music playing was a capital experience. I didn't get much done in uni but that was expected. Since I have unfollowed people who post about India news on Facebook, my feed is full of dumb videos, which I enjoy watching. The walk back home was very pleasant too as I didn't have the wind in my face. All in all, my efforts to improve the quality of my solitude went well.

Day 1 Of Emotional Distancing

 My first day of distancing myself from India news didn't go as well as I had hoped. Today was an unproductive day workwise and my problem is since I don't have a life outside work, when I am not working I end up on Twitter or news websites. I am going to resist the urge to whine about my lack of hobbies and senseless pastimes and move swiftly on. Today, I found myself visiting profiles on Twitter that I had unfollowed last night. But at least this way I am aware that I may encounter bad news, and bad news doesn't take me as much by surprise as when it lands in my Twitter feed. Emotional distancing is a gradual process and I shouldn't expect it to happen overnight. Weaning myself of Indian news won't be easy as the mind often craves the macabre even if mindful of the distress it may cause, like a moth drawn to a flame that burns it. Even if there is no way to cover my eyes, at elast I can ut up some filters between my eyes and the burning world.

Bad News From India

The stream of bad news coming out of India keeps growing in size. The latest is ritualistically brutal gangrapes in Uttar Pradesh, the pit of hell for women, lower castes and Muslims. I tell anyone who will listen that India is a failing state and the majority of its population a giant cult. But no intellectual analysis can lessen the shocks of the incessant stream of bad news coming out of the country. maybe it is time to put some emotional distance between myself and the country. I am clear that I don't want to move back unless forced by circumstances. So, there is little reason why its descent into hell should occupy so much space in  my head, especially since friends and family back in India are not immediately under threat. Maybe I should make a conscious effort to not follow the news that is coming out of India and get outraged sitting here in England without a support network to cushion the impact. I will start by unfollowing the people I follow on social media for news from India, with the exception of economic news. Let us see how that goes.

Helplessness and Humility

 I have written before about having nothing to offer a friend in trouble but love and empathy. Yesterday, I spoke to a dear friend who went through a pretty messy family situation a few months back. Today, I spoke to a friend who has been in jobs hell for the past few months and in a purgatory for the past two. I had been pushing her to take better care of herself by exercising and eating better. Today, after hearing about her latest setback I was left speechless. Not being able to help or advise is both a helpless and humbling feeling. Sometimes advising someone to practice "self-care" or being "kind to themselves" feels like telling them to stay on a treadmill that keeps going faster. I feel like I am fortunate that my treadmill is coasting at a manageable pace. If it went faster all my talk of self-care and emotional resilience would go out the window. I know there are people who can take withstand with grace and fortitude blows that would fell most people. I am not one of them. Sometimes kindness to oneself or self-care does involve not pushing yourself to do both when life mows you down. You will get up, but in your own time. But, there is a chance that you might not, or worse, someone dear to you may not. And there is nothing you can do about it.

Better At Letting Things Be?

 Am I getting better at letting things be or is it just a passing phase of stoicism? Over the past few days I have felt a flicker of irritation on a number of occasions, but have managed to consciously tamp it down by telling myself to let it be. It helps that I have post-it notes to remind me both at home and in the PhD office. If this is just a passing Zen phase, I will know soon. One of my housemates, who had disappeared for a month, is back and I can hear him through the walls talking on the phone. My other housemate--the bumptious randy one--has also been strangely mellow these past few weeks. The house felt quite peaceful with just the three of us and no one giving trouble. So much so that I even began to consider staying on after my PhD. If I was mistaking a swallow for summer I will know soon enough. 

Birthday Wishes to Build Bridges

Birthdays are a perfect occasion to build bridges with someone you may have fallen out with. A minor fallout, not a flaming row, in which case you wouldn't give two hoots about their birthday. Birthday wishes can be an excuse to reach out to someone while protecting yourself from the possibility that your overtures will be rebuffed. Especially, if you believe you have been wronged and the other person should make the first move to build bridges. Some years ago, I would have let bygones be bygones and made the fist move, irrespective of who was at bigger fault. I am not that person any more, for better or worse. I have also stopped making the effort to keep in touch with old friends who make little effort themselves. Maybe it is pride, maybe it is increased self-respect, chances are it is a bit of both. But, sending birthday greetings is an innocuous gesture that let's you show you are prepared to move on while keeping your dignity in your own eyes.