Blue January Ends

 The toughest month for me since the pandemic began is drawing to a close. December was no cake walk either, but at least I had tangible reasons to be stressed--my housemate testing positive and the drama it caused, not being shortlisted for the jobs I had applied to, etc. January was just blue. At its worst, I experienced anxiety like I hadn't since 2017. I always knew this winter would be long and tough, but anticipating something doesn't prepare you for it. It just gives you the satisfaction of saying you had anticipated it. But, life started looking up towards the close of January. Going back to working from the PhD office helped, as did keeping up my daily routine of yoga and blogging. Last week, I was offered teaching for this semester, which would give me something to do apart from my PhD. At the depths of the month, I always knew it was just a question of waiting it out. The Covid situation would improve as the lockdown and vaccinations took hold, the days would get longer, and I would move closer to finishing my PhD. 

Junk Food Dinner

One of my previous housemates, for all the trouble he put us through in his final weeks in the house, left a freezer shelf full of junk food. I am not a big fan of junk food but enjoy the occasional pizza and burger. I would never buy a freezer full of frozen junk food though. For one, it would take ages for me to get through it because I am too health conscious to eat it often. But, junk food bought by someone else and bequeathed to me is a completely different proposition. There is none of that slight guilt that comes with spending money on junk food. And, for some reason, eating other people's food gives me a strange feeling of satisfaction which I should definitely explore in a future post. I've just popped a burger and an unhealthy amount of fries into the oven. Let's see if frozen junk food is any good. I plan to watch it while watching a reality show about rich vacuous Asians in LA--from the "so bad, its good" genre. Junk Tv to go with junk food.

Change of Scene

 Today, I just couldn't work on my PhD, and around midday I had started to think that the day would be a write-off. I had tried reading up for my first week of teaching and couldn't get past the first page. S, with low expectations for the rest of the day, I decided to work on my article review after lunch. I thought it would be a slog, but I got rally immersed in it and the hours flew by. I only wish I could immerse myself into my PhD in the same way. My PhD writing has been so fitful and sporadic that writing every sentence feels like heavy labour. Maybe that's just the nature of the beast. I realize that I haven't lost my ability to write because I have managed to write motivation letters for job applications. No one prepares you for the demands that a PHD puts you on your patience and fortitude. But, I am glad to have some work outside my PhD since in the current circumstances I doubt I would be able to relax even if I take a break from my PhD. And taking a break without being able to relax only increases my guilt at not working. If I have other stuff to do, at least I can tell myself that I am not idling, just moving my plans around. If there is work to be done by a certain deadline, it doesn't really matter whether I do it 4 weeks or 4 days before the deadline. I always knew taking my mind off my PhD from time to time would help, so I have decided not to work on it at least until Monday. 

Luck Turning?

 The past two months have been the most difficult of this pandemic but maybe my luck is turning? This morning, I got an email asking if I would be interested in teaching next semester. I need to teach to improve my employment prospects with the department and some money is always welcome. Today's email was in response to multiple emails from me asking if teaching was available, with the first email sent in mid-Dec. So irritation at the delay in getting a response and the uncertainty over whether I would be teaching this semester had been getting to me. Now, a decline from Cambridge won't singe as much. I had been dreading the prospect of no job prospects and no teaching over the rest of winter and spring, with only my interminable PhD to keep me occupied. Today, I also initiated contact with a friend I had fallen out with as it is her birthday. As I have written before, birthdays are perfect occasions to mend fences. And, at the tail end of the day, just as I was girding to leave uni during a rain shower, I got an idea about how to resolve a hiccup in my PhD. I know, ideas in the mind sound great until it is time to put them on paper. I have no doubt I will struggle to write it, but at least it is progress. So, since the sun seems to be poking out from behind the clouds, time to get ready to make hay.

When Big Trees Fall

 I feel like a grasshopper in a forest with big trees falling all around me. I am small and nimble enough so I am not personally in physical danger from the falling trees. But the falling trees are remaking the forest and the forest is my  home. I can't even describe how I feel. It is not confusion because to be confused one must have at least some interpretation of an event /situation/relationship.  I feel like I completely lack the intellectual framework to even form a crude interpretation of what is going on. It feels like I am at a pre-confusion stage, like the Native Americans who couldn't see Columbus' ship because it was so  alien to their senses (which I know is a myth). This feeling of alienation encompasses my personal and intellectual life. The whole world seems to be on fire. There have been riots in Holland since Sunday, the farmers' protest in India saw violence today and the Covid shitshow in the UK continues. At such a time, my own problems seem irrelevant. They feel like old-world problems at a time when the world is being radically reshaped. It feels like I can't even put my problems into perspective. For instance, not having an academic job when no one knows what academia will look like on the other side of this. Or wanting to stay on in the West when the West feels like it is a few months away from a complete meltdown of the social order. Not knowing what to want can be both disconcerting and liberating. I have realised that the best thing I can do is stay afloat and let the current take me where it will. 

The news from India dominated my attention today but I can't for the life of me make out whether what happened today is good or bad. Usually, I can at least form an opinion, which may well prove to be wrong later.  But, no, not now. Adopting a fatalistic attitude seems to be the only way to survive. 

Worry Plate

 I have been trialing the idea that one can pick and chose what to worry about at a given point in time, leaving some problems to be worried about later. My shoulder pain, for instance, is something that I am trying to banish from my mind for a few weeks. I feel like I have enough on my worry plate at the moment. I'm waiting to hear back from a job application, I am waiting to hear if I will be teaching this semester and I am waiting to find out if I will make nice with a close friend I have fallen out with. And, of course, I must make allowances for the occasional Covid or other health scares. Like then anxious two days I spent last week worrying if I had caught tetanus after nicking my finger while cutting my hair last week. And, as luck would have it I cut myself yesterday too. So my shoulder pain will have to wait until there is some more room on my worry plate. 

Bin Bother

One thing that has always puzzled me is how our black bin fills up each fortnight. Either my housemates are able to generate an inordinate amount of waste which can't or they don't recycle or someone uses our bin for fly-tipping. So, imagine my irritation when I noticed that our bin was overflowing. The sight and the memory of it kept bothering me so I eventually went out, moved some stuff around and managed to all but close the lid. The person who had dumped the last bag had lifted the lid and dropped the bag without taking any trouble to make it fit. My labour was futile because my ass of a housemate, who moved out today, made it overglow again. He is of Indian origin so I have to actively resist making this a post about upper-caste attitudes towards garbage. After he had left, our bin was looking like a walrus with its mouth wide open. I sent the pic to some friends, and they confirmed that there was no way the bin collectors would pick it up. I told my housemate about it, and she agreed it was a problem, and promptly washed her hands off it, saying she didn't know what to do. I wish I could learn from her how not to give a fuck. But, I do give a fuck, and in Covid times I give more of a fuck than usual. A friend told me to dump the overflow into someone else's bin on the sly. I am not good at being sneaky, which is very un-Indian and very INFJ. The thought of being caught and dying of humiliation is too much to bear. I thought of asking my weird neighbour who barely ever puts any bins out if he had space. But, when I knocked on his door there was no answer. I don't know why houses here don't have doorbells. I sly checked his neighbour's bin, which was full. But, two doors down on the other side had plenty of room. I eventually managed to reduce the size of the overflow because I discovered my housemate had dumped an eminently recyclable carton in the bin. Dumping a modestly sized parcel into someone else's bin didn't feel all that bad.

I am not going to beat myself up about getting worked up about such a small thing. Part of it is my anxious personality and a part of it comes from not wanting to inconvenience other people. It is easy for some people to do that--make their problem someone else's problem, especially if there are no likely repercussions. It is not easy for me to do that, and I don't feel why I should feel ashamed about it. I frequently clean up after my housemates, sort out the recycling when they miss it up and I am the only one who ever bothers to clean the common areas. I have decided that I will not allow myself to feel resentful about it, and have largely succeeded. I like a clean house and a quiet house, and I can do more about the former than the latter. I decided that as long as my housemates didn't disturb my sleep, I would tolerate their unclean ways. But, having our rubbish go uncollected because a knobhead dumped too much stuff while moving out, is annoying. I managed to sort it out, and I don't expect any gratitude, just like I don't expect my housemates to even notice that I keep the house clean. So, I find little to fault with my approach. 

Evening Run

 Today, I decided to go for a run in the evening, instead of my usual Sunday morning. I think the last time I went for a run in the evening was at the start of my Holland stint. But when I discovered that the wet sand between the sea and the dry beach sand makes a great running surface, I switched to morning running, and never looked back. I prefer to run in the mornings because I am a morning person and it is less crowded. But, the forecast for tomorrow (Sunday) morning is heavvy snow so I was toying with the idea of running this morning. But, I realized I was prioritizing feeding my exercise compulsion when I should be prioritizing finishing my PhD so I decided to ditch the idea. I would either go for a run tomorrow morning, weather permitting, or give running a skip this weekend. But, its not so easy to step back from exercise compulsion. I decided to go for a run in the evening as a reward for working on my PhD during the day. Since too early would be too crowded and too late would be too cold and dark, I had to aim for the sweet spot between sunset and dusk--around 4:45pm, so I would have to finish my work by then. Having something to do at a set time is a rarity for Phd students in their final year, and especially during lockdown, so I was hoping the time constraint would spur me to work. I had a reasonably productive day but the run was no reward. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed a run so little. It was cold, the parks were more crowded than they were in the morning and running in the dak is nowhere near as fun as walking in the dark, I discovered. To be at ease while running, it is important for me to be able to see where I am going. It wasn't pitch dark when I ran but dark enough to make me uneasy. I struggled through the run and was glad when it was over. No endorphin boost today. My body also feels more sore and tired than usual. So, I think I am going to stick to running in the mornings. Routines exist for a reason. Sunday is my  one free day and most people wake up late on Sundays, which means the parks are less crowded. 

Some reward it was. 

Constantly Putting out Fires

It feels like I have constantly been putting out fires this week. No sooner did I put out one fire than another one flared up. I am happy to report that I am not in imminent danger of being hospitalized by tetanus and that my jaw is much better now. But this evening I had another point of stress when I discovered that the boiler was at the lower end of its tolerable pressure range. And, as luck always has it, we are at the beginning of another cold snap. A today is a Friday. Fortunately, the pressure has risen slightly after I turned up the temperature setting. 

This winter is starting to feel endless and everyone I talk to seems to be at the end of their tether. Every day brings hope as well as despair. Infection rates are falling. But maybe not, according to another. The vaccine will work against the Kent variant. But, maybe not against the South African variant. Being constantly pummeled by hope and despair is exhausting, So one tries neither to hope nor to despair. But, its difficult. 

Bad Night, Good Day

Last night was a bad night, sleepwise, just as I thought it would be. My anxiety was at the highest its been in a long time, and I knew sleep would be elusive or fitful. I was fortunate that my sleep was fitful, so I woked up feeling tired, but not like a zombie. The one thing I learned from my insomnia year is the best thing one can day after a bad night is to treat the day after like a normal day even if you don't feel like it. Keep to your plan even if you are feeling tired and angsty because the best cure for anxiety is not fight it but to try to ignore. For me, anxiety usually comes and goes in phases that last a few days, so I don't expect to feel fine soon. But, I am happy to report that I managed to do everything that I had planed to do today. I lugged my stuff back to uni, went for a midday walk and even managed to have a productive PhD-writing day. I have had enough experience of anxiety to know not to expect miracle cures. Reading a nice piece of writing or doing a yoga practice might make me feel good momentarily, but isn't going to blow my anxiety away. But, things add up, and with many things the act of doing it helps. Anxiety feeds on idleness, so minimizing your idle time is the best thing you can do. 

Stir Crazy

 I love the world 'stir crazy'. My cousin used it the other day and I have being come across it more and more online. Apparently, it means 'distraught because of prolonged confinement'. Yesterday, I decided that I was going a little stir crazy too. Yeah, yeah, I am an introvert and all that, but being locked down in winter is a completely different beast to being locked down in summer. And being locked down in winter after spending almost a year under various levels of restrictions is ... Oh boy. And, even introverts need a change of scene from time to time. A rich inner life is not fully self-contained. So, when I learned yesterday my supervisor was going in to uni occasionally, it was all the encouragement I needed. Within a span of hours, I went from planning to start going in from next month, to planning to go in from tomorrow. I realise that I might have to change my plans at short notice. But, making plans that frequently change is a way to keep one's mind occuied. The mind is always looking for things to jump on and in the absence of productive stimulation it seizes harmful stimulation. I have spent half of today worrying that I have caught tetanus because my jaw muscles feel sore and I cut my finger while cutting my hair last week. It was a teeny cut, but my active imagination doesn't need much to go berserk. The thing about anxiety is it consumes a lot of energy. So, if you are really in a bad way physically, you are unlikely to feel very anxious. I remember swooning in hospital during a chest x-ray when I had come down with Dengue for the second time. I have never ever fainted in my life, but I treated the incident with as much gravity as I would have had I stumbled on a mop. I figured out that tetanus causes jaw ache because of a nerve infection, and this definitely doesn't feel like nerve pain. Its more like a jaw ache. So, yeah, I will have to find something else to fuel my health anxiety. 

Thoughts vs Self-Talk

 A few years ago, a friend said to me one can never control one's thoughts, only one's actions. I have doled out this aphorism to friends on a few occasions myself. But, how accurate is it? In one of her videos,, Adrienne says "We can control our thoughts", pauses for a moment, and then says "or at least we can try". My own humble opinion is whether you can control thoughts or not depends on how broadly or narrowly you define thoughts. If it something that just pops into your head, by the time you are conscious of it, it is already too late. You have failed to "control" it. For instance, random thoguhts like "What are the lartine arrangements for he farmers protesting at the Singhu border". But, one does have control over self-talk, the inner monologue, which also qualifies as a "thought", at least in my book. To complicate things further, there are different kinds of self-talk. One is when you talk to yourself like you would to a second person. Telling yourself, for instance, "What is, is. What will be, will be". There is also more subtle self-talk when you comment about yourself or your situation without being necessarily aware of it. For instance, "my shoulder is never going to heal, and I am never going to be able to do upper-body exercises again". Of course, unconscious self-talk, if it is harmful, can be countered by conscious self-talk. Or, at least we can try. 

Blue Monday After A Blue Year

 I went back to my the post I had written on Blue Monday last year. It turns out I was chastened by the prospect that I may never become the prolific academic that I was hoping to be. One year on, such concerns seem immaterial. My priority, and those of countless others I am certain, is to get through this winter without losing our marbles completely. I always knew being locked down in winter was going to be tough, but the past few weeks have been challenging, nonetheless. I don't mind winters at all, but being locked down during winters is an entirely different beast, as I have discovered. I know there is better weather and better days ahead, and there is nothing else to do but try to keep myself occupied. 

What Is, Is. What Will Be, Will Be.

 Its been a while since I put up an adage on the wall facing my desk. The last adage I put up was, "But, I'm here', back in July. So, yesterday, I came up with another one, which is the title of this post. The original is in Hindi and sounds marginally more lyrical than the English translation. Don't dwell on the problems of the present, and try not to worry about the future. Why this set of words appeals to me, and why not a hundred others which say exactly the same thing, I don't know. For me, it is simply a reminder to take a timeout from overthinking now and then. Just a breather, nothing more. As an anxious and analytical personality, it is natural for me to think, plan, strategize about the future. To try to anticipate problems and think of possible solutions in advance. That's my personality, and I can't change it, least of all when all the world is going crazy. But, I can take breaks from embodying it from time to time. 

Winter Ascent of K2 by Sherpas

Finally, some good news. A group of sherpas became the first to climb K2 in winter. All 10 climbers stopped 30-feet below the summit so they could summit together. On individual was listed as the first. There are few sports in the world where racial hierarchies are so apparent. White high-altitude climbers' success has been built on the backs of sherpas. So, to have a group with no white people take the last prize left in high-altitude mountaineering feels like a victory, and a portent of change. For anyone who knows anything about mountaineering, K2 a.ka. 'the savage mountain' is the biggest challenge in high-altitude climbing. Not only is it much more of a technical challenge than Everest, it is also much further North, making it significantly colder and windier. It is also very remote--the reason it doesn't have a local name is because it is not visible from any place that is habitable. It is also considered especially unlucky for women as disproportionate number of casualties have been women. K2 and Nanga Parbat have a special fascination for me because they are located in the Karakoram range. My favourite short story is also set there. Summitting K2 is just part of the battle as most fatalities occur during the descent. I just hope they get back safely. 

Social Media and Empathy

To survive on social media one needs to be able to bear the levels of abuse and rancour that in the days of yore was reserved for public figures. Today, news emerged that a well-known Indian TV news anchor had been duped into believing that she had been offered an associate professorship to teach journalism at Harvard. The reactions to the news on Twitter made me uneasy. There were those who took the opportunity to flaunt their knowledge of the academic tenure system in the U.S., while expressing sympathy towards the journalist. Whether they were just partaking in the spectacle of a famous (and pretty) woman having been humiliated or whether they were genuinely concerned for her, I don't know. When a pretty woman falls from grace, it brings out the worst in people, but that is also a blog for another day. Yes, it is a crazy story, and you don't need to add to the spectacle by commenting on how crazy it is publicly. If you know the woman, reach out to her in private and offer support. But, if this lot were experiencing schadenfreude at least they were trying to mask it. The other lot were openly jubilant. the journalist in question is a centrist who, in these dark times, leans left more than right, like almost famous journalists in India. So her detractors came from the right-wing and the left-wing. I have nothing to say about the right-wing nuts, but the response from the left-wing was dispiriting too. Pulling up old tweets where she had painted the government in favourable light? Would they do the same if she had been in a car accident? Even if you hate her political positions, even if you think she is a sellout, why do you feel the need to react at all, positively or negatively? When something bad happens to someone you don't like, and the misfortune has nothing to do with the reason you don't like them, maybe it is a good idea to hold your peace? Or at least don't do a victory dance in public. Of course this sage advice allows reasonable exceptions such as many of the right-wing leaders and their stooges. 

Healthy Doggedness

As I was cooking dinner after another unproductive working day, it struck me that the astonishing bit was not how unproductive I had lately been but how I hadn't let it get me down. I hadn't told myself that I was lazy, stupid or unmotivated. Instead, I had managed to keep in reasonably good spirits and soldiered on. Was the pandemic responsible for this new healthy doggedness in me? I emphasize healthy because doggedness can also be unhealthy if accompanied with merciless self-criticism and overwork. Some people find it easy to push themselves, but tend to push too hard, to their own detriment. I feel like I am doing a reasonably good job of pushing myself and to use that cliche of our time, "being kind to myself". And as luck would have it, minutes later,  I got an idea to get out of the rut that I was stuck in. After dinner, I rushed back to writing my PhD chapter. I wouldn't call my idea a breakthrough, but it has definitely got me moving again. 

Waiting for the Tide to Turn

 I always knew this was going to be a tough winter, and right now is possibly the toughest point of winter. The Covid death toll is still rising every day, and the infection isn't yet showing a clear downward trend. The lockdown isn't as strict as last spring, and everyone seems to be on the edge of their sanity. In my own life, my PhD is moving at a glacial space, I still don't know if I will be teaching this semester, my shoulder is still giving me trouble and a frosty situation with a close friend is also weighing on my mood. The weather isn't helping either as its alternating between bitterly cold and rainy. 

So, what is there to do but wait for the tide to turn? Wait for the infections to plateau and fall, then deaths to plateau and fall, as they must. There is also the hope that along with these natural trends, increased vaccination will put a serious dent in hospitalization numbers. And wait for my shoulder to recover, aided by postural improvement thanks to a new footboard that I convinced my stingy self to spend 20 quid on. I'm confident that one month from now, there will be light on the horizon even if the sky isn't bright and sunny. 

On Friendhip

 I read a column about friendship during Covid times today. It reproduced many tropes about friendship, such as how one has to continually justify its value in a way one doesn't with romantic or family relationships. There was also the what has become a boilerplate statistic about loneliness being as risky as smoking a crazy amounts of cigarettes a day. I have a lot of beefs with that statistic and how it is presented but I will save that for another day. The column got me thinking about what the pandemic has taught me about friendship. For one, friendships are not a substitute for family or romantic relationships. Anyone who is contemplating a life of singlehood should keep this in mind. With friendship, the stakes are lower and that is not necessarily a bad thing. At the risk of sounding trite, they are the form of relationship that embody the first part of the maxim of socialism. From each according to his ability. With family and partner, the focus is on "to each according to his/her need". You are not expected to go above and beyond your capacity for care in a friendship as you are with family or partner. Being friends with someone is a choice that allows you to keep choosing. I am not saying one doesn't or shouldn't feel obliged to care for a friend. But, not at the cost of one's mental well-being, which is what distinguishes it from family/partner. During the pandemic, I have learnt the importance of being a friend to yourself. When friends are unavailable because they have troubles of their own, how it is necessary to be talk to yourself the way a close friend would. Hopefully, that makes one a more rounded person who doesn't depend on their friends for self-validation. Or at least not too much. 

Being Conflict-Averse in Conflict-Prone Times

 I have written before about how I go to great lengths to avoid conflict, especially after my breakdown. Among the other changes in my personality, this is possibly the only one I don't like. And, this is not a good time to be conflict-averse. If the first lockdown was about people coming together, this one is about people coming together to scream their guts out at each other. The social fabric is fraying, and at it feels like a stream of anger runs just below the skin of most people, myself included. Even a slight provocation causes it to bubble up like lava. Whether one is conflict-prone or conflict-averse is more to do with one's personality, and within limits, neither is a problem. It is how this part of our personality makes us feel. I find myself conjuring up doomsday scenarios at the slightest hint of a ruction. These scenarios are often completely implausible, but sometimes cause me to pause and swerve to avoid conflict. Conflict, for some people, is cathartic, it stabilizes them. Others find conflict destabilizing. But, in these conflict-prone times, avoiding conflict entirely is out of the question. Its not enough if you are a person who doesn't give any nonsense. You have to also take no nonsense. Sometimes, there are ways in which you can do that without aggravating the situation, and sometimes, whatever you do will aggravate the situation so there is nothing to do but bite your lip and bear it. 

Ginger Tea and Songs in the Dark

I have found my go-to pick-me-up for this edition of the lockdown. Listening to music in the dark while sipping ginger tea. This already a part of my daily routine, but it wasn't until today that I discovered its pick-me-up powers. Last night was a bad night for some reason. I managed to sleep but not very well. usually, I am able to shake off a bad night when I wake up and get moving in the mornings, but not today. My nagging shoulder pain has gotten worse in the past few days after a few weeks when I thought it was getting better. Things are a bit frosty between a close friend and I, and, of course, this edition of the pandemic shows no signs of ending. I had a reasonably productive writing session today and also went for a walk with a friend, but neither could lift my spirits. So, I made myself a cup of ginger tea, put a Glen Campbell playlist on Spotify, got into bed and switched off the lights. I had discovered Glen Campbell around grade 12 when I found an ancient cassette tape with his songs which belonged to God knows which family member. He and John Denver were my introduction to country music. This was in the pre-internet days when our universe of music was quite limited, especially in India which had just begun to open its doors to Western popular culture. This turning into a post about music which I will save for another day, so suffice to say that Campbell's and Denver's music offered some solace during a forgettable few years of my life. Since I have become even more of a sucker for nostalgia since the pandemic began, listening to the songs and soaking in the memories they brought back, gave my mood the boost it needed. And, some day, I have to write about why I find sitting in the dark so relaxing. 

Writing As an Act of Faith

 My writing process starts with starting at a blank screen or doodling until inspiration hits me. Invariably, the time between when you start and when your first idea hits you is frustrating. If it drags on for a long time, you start to doubt whether the project is doable or if you should focus on something else at the moment. Which is fine, and sometimes I do. Other times, a little voice in my head tells me to keep at it, and that a mini-breakthrough is right around the corner. I say mini-breakthrough because your first idea is unlikely to be what makes it to the final copy. You likely abandon it or refine it. But, when it hits you, it produces a burst of writing. It is a heady feeling and my confidence hits the roof. And, then it comes back down when I realize is not as good as I had initially imagined. This happens either the same day or the next day. Either way, you sleep on it and start afresh the next day, waiting for another sliver of inspiration. This process repeats itself until the piece of writing feels complete and I am ready to set it free into the world. That point of fullness can feel elusive, especially with a long project like a PhD. Where no chapter feels complete unless all the chapters feel complete. A project which needs many mini-breakthroughs and a few major breakthroughs as well, which makes it hard to keep the faith. But, the point of fullness does exist and I will reach it not very long from now. I still have some way to go, and I can see it in the distance. Any piece of creative writing (in which I include research) is an act of faith because there is no guarantee it will succeed. That's the difference between creating something new and replicating something that already exists. Ambitious projects are a leap of faith. 

  

Right-Wing Mob Overruns U.S. Capitol

Are we at a point where right-wing movements are the biggest threat to capital accumulation? Today, supporters of Donald Trump stormed the U.S equivalent of Parliament. I wondered how the astonishing scenes would have made me feel if I was a wealthy Republican? Would I would be ecstatic or alarmed? It is one thing when rioters target a (presumably insured) Macy's store. What does it say about the law and order situation when the citadel of U.S. democracy is breached in such cavalier fashion? Would I still trust the law and order machinery to protect my person and property? And, what is American law enforcement good at, apart from protecting (white) property. and terrorizing black people? Even if I am as white as the driven, wealthy, Republican can i b confident that the nob one day won't turn on me?

Marrying Effort and Ease

 The great thing about yoga is it has so many layers to it which you can spend years unpeeling. There is always more to discover. Since injuring my shoulder, I have realized why Adrienne keeps instructing viewers to keep their shoulders down and together and arms turned outwards when our hands on the floor. Before my injury, this instruction flew past me without registering. But, I am not just talking about instructions to do with the body, but also the mind. One idea that I have recently begun paying attention to is marrying effort with ease. Can you exert your physical body while maintaining a calm mind? Step back and observe yourself as you exert your body? There is always the tendency to power through, whip your mind to keep going when you are pushing your body is under stress. Clenched brain and clenched muscles. Is it possible to push your body while keeping your mind calm? I am still trying to figure out. 

PhD Progress

 Yesterday, I hinted about how I am trying to change my attitude towards my PhD's slow progress. I have decided not to sweat about repeatedly missed deadlines, because what's the hurry? We are likely going to be in lockdown for the next few months, and my PhD is the only thing I have to keep me occupied. I don't have any distractions to worry about. In fact, if I didn't have a long-term project that I could keep chipping at over the past 10 months, as I keep telling myself and anyone else who will listen. I realize circumstances could change and I might have new demands on my time. But after all we've been through this year, it seems silly to worry about that. I am doing the best I can, when it comes to my PhD and that is all I can do. My hard deadline is the end of June, and I am confident that I will finish by then. So, I might as well try to enjoy the process. 

P.S. The first day of lockdown wasn't so bad. I started my day early, which is always helpful during winters when one can spend ages in bed the mornings and get increasingly gloomy about all that is wrong with the world. 

Winter Lockdown Begins

 As I had expected, my WFH dilemma turned out to be moot. We are entering a full spring-20202-style national lockdown from tomorrow. The last lockdown began just as the weather was turning towards spring, Being locked down during winter, and a cold winter at that, will be a, for lack of a better word, interesting experience. As far as I remember, the last lockdown started to fray when the weather became warmer. Whether a cold winter will induce people to hunker down at home, or mingle in each other's home is anybody's guess. I went in to uni today, knowing that it might be my last time there in a few months. It felt odd being in a deserted building, with most people keeping away because they were being cautious or responsible or both. I felt myself trying not to draw attention to my presence, quickly realizing that this wasn't going to be a conducive atmosphere for writing. But, I managed to do some citation work and also have the beef burger that I had been denied when my annoying housemate tested positive for Covid before Christmas. As I was leaving uni, news came in that Scotland had announced a full lockdown from midnight, so it was inevitable that England would follow soon. I feel like I am as prepared as I could be. I only wish some of my housemates were spending lockdown away. As luck would have it, one of them came back yesterday after being away for a month. It will take me a few days to adjust to his presence, although he is no bother at all. My recipe for surviving this lockdown is regular yoga, blogging, making sure I get out of the house at least every other day, and not being hard on myself about my PhD progress. But, my shift in attitude towards my slow PhD progress is a topic for another day. 

To WFH or not to WFH

 I have been toying with the decision whether to resume working from the PhD office at uni or continue WFH. As a consummate overthinker, I listed all pros and cons, and even threw in some game theory. If my officemates chose to stay away, then it would be perfectly safe to work from uni. But, if they came in thinking they would be the only ones in, not so much. If I chose to WFH, the thought of an possibly empty office would trouble me. I am not asking  the others what they plan to do on the PhD whatsapp group, because I don't want to put any ideas into their head. I was toying with whether to request a mask-on-at-all-times rule or take turns to use the office. But, my PhD colleagues are quite fickle, so I am sure they would not stick to their agreed days. There is also a nagging sense of guilt that I would be a bit of a free-rider if I went in while everybody else kept away. But, if they don't want people to come in they should just close the campus. In any case, this might be a moot dilemma because we are likely to be in full lockdown soon. Maybe the lesson from this pandemic is not be more decisive, but to realize that many of the choices that we agonize over are not that important, so we shouldn't sweat so much over them. 

Planning

 I was idling on the instagram the other day when I came across a post extolling the virtues of planning. The author said when she is faced with a crisis, her way of coping is to plan her way out of it. She quickly followed up with some guff about taking responsibility for your own happiness. I am the same. My instinct is to anticipate, plan and prepare. The moment crisis hits, even if I start having anxiety symptoms, my rational mind jumps into action. But, I also realise this is just a coping mechanism. You face a crisis, and you quickly make a plan to avert or rectify the situation. And, then what? Your cannot be on perpetually planning mode and you may not always get the chance to execute your plan. What do you do then? How well can you cope with a situation in which you are helpless and can do nothing but wait? When the shit hits the fan, planners will plan, fretters will fret and zens will remain zen. The point is what do you do after that first reaction.You can't plan your way out of every crisis, and in a world riddled with uncertainty you can't plan for infinite potential crises.