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.