End of Winter?

 The meteorological spring begins tomorrow, and today was the sunniest day we have had in months. The tabloids have been hailing the end of winter. Deaths and infections are down significantly from a January and vaccinations are proceeding at a brisk pace. However, life will not go back to normal for another four months at least. The earliest day for all restrictions to be lifted is June 21, the longest day of the year. I always knew this would be a tough winter, and January was the toughest month of the lockdown. But, life got significantly better in February, thanks partly to fate and partly to my efforts. The next three weeks are going to be manic for me, but I am actually looking forward to them. The PhD writing has started to feel less and less like a slog with each passing day. After months and months of trying to force words out, I finally feel like words are bubbling inside me, just waiting to be let out. I had a feeling that last week would be an eventful week, and indeed it was. A lot of uncertainties that were handing over my head were resolved. I got news about the Cambridge job rejection, the extension of my Associate Lecturer contract to the end of the semester, the offer to lecture, my first visit with the new physio.

So, life is going smoothly, and the prospects for the next few weeks and months are looking good. Of course, when we expect life to unfold smoothly, occasional creases can shake us up. Yes, there will be definitely pot-holes, especially with PhD writing, but at least the dismal winter is over, or nearly over. 

The Fly-Tipper

 I finally know who has been dumping trash into out black wheelie bin. This morning I saw him from the window as he walked past out house. The bin is not visible from my window but he had some stuff in his hand and I heard the unmistakable thud of the bin slamming shut a few seconds later. The non-confrontational guy I am I didn't chase after him. (Chasing after kids seems kinda sad and chasing after grown-up men could lead to a heated confrontation. Trust me to rationalize non-confrontation!) So, I have come with a simple solution. Simply put the bin inside our backyard. I don't mind people dumping things into our bin but if the bin fills up and we don't have space for our own trash, that would be a problem. In any case, if this was my house I would have issues with the neighbours. I suspect the sometimes fling trash into our backyard. And, last morning, I found a pair of men's underwear lying near our front gate. How it got there, I have no clue. 

Sleepiness

 Two days ago, I could barely keep my eyes open by 9pm. I can't remember the last time I felt this sleepy close to bedtime. I haven't been having trouble sleeping, but it usually takes me at least 10-15 minutes to nod off after I get into bed. Even on days when I go hill running, I don't feel this sleepy by bedtime. Of course, I don't sleep very soundly because I am conscious of not doing anything to worsen my shoulder pain even though I haven't been able to figure out what makes it better or worse. But, the next three weeks are going to be manic and I am thinking I should give myself at least 8 hours of sleep every day. I always thought of myself as someone who doesn't need much sleep, but Covid has changed everything. Plus, its not like I have much to do in the evenings. I find reading for pleasure too taxing, and struggle to find Tv and movies that I enjoy. So, instead of spending an hour on Twitter before bedtime might as well get into bed early. 

Fifth Gear

 All lingering grief about the recent job rejection was blown away today. I got an email from my head of department asking if I wanted to continue teaching for the rest of the semester and also if I would be willing to lecture on the same module for two weeks. It didn't take me more than two seconds to decide. The next few weeks are going to be manic, but maybe that is exactly what I need. A kick on my backside to get me to move faster on my PhD. And, it is early days yet but today ended up being much more productive than the first half indicated.  My strategy of saying yes to everything and being relentlessly upbeat when doing so in the hopes of getting hired might not be sustainable or sensible. If I don't get shortlisted the next time a job opens I will be majorly bitter. But, that is too far in the future. For now, I have enough and more to keep me occupied through the spring. Too occupied to wallow in sadness hopefully.

New Physio

 I saw a new physio today, which at least took my mind of the job disappointment. She was very thorough and seemed competent, but she didn't fill me with faith that she would be able to help heal my shoulder. But, why should she? She's not a cult leader, and I am not looking to be a part of a flock. Its a fairly common shoulder injury so I need to stop acting like I have this super-rare condition that no one will be able to cure. Yes, I tried with an osteopath and it didn't work. So what? Move on. Maybe a couple of years ago I would have told myself that I needed to heal myself in my head first, BELIEVE that it will be healed. But, I have been telling myself to stop obsessing over it. I have strong survival instincts and I am doing all I can to fix my shoulder. Obsessing over it will mean that I will swing from  exuberant enthusiasm in one moment to downcast dejection in the next, and will spend significantly more time in the latter than in the former. Fat lot of good that has done me so far. yes, being injured is difficult for a fitness obsessive like me, but that's life. You take your body for granted for the first 25 years of your life, and spend the next 10 years discovering all the ways in which you have unwittingly be abusing it. And, you learn about your body, which joints are more prone to injury and how to take preventative care. I have already discovered the exercises that work like a charm for my neck, knee and upper hip. Hopefully, I will discover the magic exercises for my shoulder too. 

An interesting thing that physio told me that rehabilitation exercises-or at least my shoulder exercises--are not aimed at training the body but at training the brain to send the electric pulses that fire the right muscles when it needs to. That is something to chew over.

Another Job Rejection

This afternoon, at the stroke of 5pm, I got a rejection for the Cambridge job. It was obviously a long shot, but I did have some hope, else I wouldn't have applied. To be clear, the department itself didn't seem like a very exciting place. I was mostly attracted by the swag value of Cambridge, and the intellectual environment of the university town. Even if I had just been shortlisted it would have given me a chance to crow over my own department, which didn't even shortlist me for a one-year job. "Not good enough for UWE, but good enough for Cambridge", or some such. I am also ready for a change of scene after four lonely PhD years in Bristol. But, it was not to be. This rejection means I have no other prospects to pin my hopes on. I will be in Bristol and, at best, precariously employed, and I best come to terms with it. When I first the news, I felt nothing. Actually, that's not true. I felt light, like some weight had been lifted off me. Gradually, the disappointment, and the weariness caused by weeks of waiting, set in. None of my trusted palliatives worked this time--not the special mediation for endings, not the beer and chips, not the cake and not the videos of cancer-afflicted children singing. I felt deflated. like the fight had been sucked out of me. But, the good things about Covid mood swings is, you don't stay down for long. I listened to a podcsat about the astonishingly low number o Covid deaths in South Asia and sub-Saharan Africa and my mood perked up a bit. I know it won't last. Tomorrow, I will wake up in the morning, and everything will be fine until I remember the previous day's disappointing news. it will get me down, but I will pick myself up. Because, what else is there to do?

Evening Tea Losing Its Charm

Sipping milk tea infused with ginger as I sit in the dark listening to music has been one of the pleasures of winter. But, lately, I have been enjoying it less and less. Maybe, its because the weather has become milder since the cold snap two weeks ago, and spring is not far. Maybe I need to change my habits with the change of season. Usually, the end of British Summer Time signifies the end of winter for me. That is still four weeks away. Maybe I am just keen for this winter to end. It has been a long, cold and difficult winter, but things are looking up now. The longer I live in the West, the more I have started to live according to the seasons. Winter rituals were evening tea and yoga in the dark. I need to find some new rituals for spring and the summer. I have realised that I am person of habits and rituals. Rituals give constancy to life, and doing them is a sign of normalcy. Sometimes, doing them helps push a sense of normalcy amid troubles. 

Ink Pens

 I was watching an Indian film from the 1980s this evening, when I saw an ink bottle in a scene. Suddenly, memories from my school days came flooding back. I can't remember in which grade we graduated from pencils to ink pens, but it must have been grades 4 or 5. Ink pens, mind you, because using ball pens was specifically banned. Something about them spoiling handwriting, in the days when good handwriting still counted for something. My handwriting was pretty bad because I had been taught to write in cursive hand in my first school. Cursive hand makes good handwriting seem more elegant and makes bad hand writing even more ugly. After several years of being castigated by my teachers and mocked by my friends, I shifted to block handwriting. Making boring block hand seem ugly requires a level of talent that even I didn't have. But coming back to the subject of pens. I remember ball pens were banned but something known as pilot pens were not. I couldn't tell the difference between them since neither used free-flowing ink. Among ink pens, we had a variety of types to choose from. There were the old-fashioned ink pens which had to be filled with a dropper. Then there were more advanced pens which had an inbuilt mechanism to suck ink in when pressed. And then, there were the fancier "China" pens which had nibs that looked like the snout of a seal. INk pens are messy, and it was not unusual to see kids with huge splotches of ink on their clothes. But, the best part of using ink pens was the smell of ink on paper. Ink has a strong smell but not as sharp as turpentine. Odourless ball point pens are much less messier but have no atmosphere. I don't remember if the ban on ballpoint pens lasted through my school years, but I can't remember the last time I saw an ink pen. My nephews have possibly never seen one and I doubt kids these days write much by hand. 

Teaching: Coming Off the First Week's High

 After flying high during my first week of teaching, I have come back down to earth. Naturally, I cannot expect students to be effusive in their praise last week. But, my beginner's enthusiasm had dimmed and the students seemed duller too. We are learning and teaching in extraordinary circumstances, so I don't want to read too much into it. But, all the batches of tutorials I teach seemed less enthusiastic this week, so I am beginning to wonder if the found the course material too tough and/or confusing. I am doing my best, but macroeconomics is a maze if not taught well. And, I don't design the course, I only teach it. I was going through next week's material, and, boy, are my students in for a shock if they found this week tough. At first, I felt dejected but I have to remind myself that not everything is in my control. I will do my best to make it digestible, but ultimately I have to teach what the module leader decides. But, I was also touched by the amount of concern I felt for these students. These are early days for me in academia and it is by no means certain that I will be able to continue in it. But, with each day of teaching, I feel convinced that it is worthy trying to stay in this profession, despite all its faults. 

Yoga Break

I have decided to take a break from Yoga with Adrienne for a few days. The past few yoga sessions have felt like a drag as have the meditation sessions. Maybe it is because my shoulder has gotten worse and any physical movement reminds me of it. Maybe I am worried that yoga will make it worse. Whatever the reason, I know I will come back to it. I have been doing Yoga with Adrienne for almost four years now and am unlikely to give it up easily. Not unless I find something equally amazing, or am ready to devote time and energy to look for a new physical-spiritual activity. Both seem pretty unlikely at this point in time. 

Loneliness vs Alienation

There is no way to write this post without coming across as a snob so I am not even going to try. During the course of my PhD, I have often felt lonely, and much more so over the last 12 months. But, most interactions with people lasting more than a few minutes have made me run back into my cave of solitude. Interacting with people often makes me feel like I belong to an alien species. My It is not just that I feel I smarter than most people I brush up against, which I do. I also feel like my interests and occupations are so different from most people's that we live in different worlds. The latest interaction to make me feel so was with my new housemate, who is a decent enough bloke. In short order, he shared that he wishes he had kids at this age and wants to make a lot of money. He also shared that he found the level of poverty in India, as presented in a documentary, shocking and checked with me if I was part of the impoverished Indian masses. I assured him I wasn't. (cue post about how white people talking about poverty in India makes me feel uncomfortable). My point is, he was a decent enough bloke, if lacking a sense of propriety, but I didn't feel like chatting with him at all. But at least these brief brushes with people make solitude seem infinitely more palatable. 

Netflix Show On Indian Weddings

 Netflix seems to have taken it upon itself to make reality shows on the most cringeworthy aspects of Indian culture. First, there was the show which followed an Indian matchmaker as she worked her magic on some nincompoops. Then, there was the show on Bollywood C-listers who come from storied Bollywood families. And now, there is a show on Indian weddings. It is every bit as bad as I imagined it would be, made worse by the fact that its production is quite slick. Out of the three shows, I found the Bollywood one the least offensive. It is clear that the participants are putting on an act for you. But, most of the men are or are playing losers, while most of the women are or are playing prima donnas. They are completely okay with embarrassing themselves for our amusement. The same can't be said for the other two shows, which celebrate two of the most regressive aspects of Indian culture: arranged marriages and weddings. I don't have the energy to write about both, so I am just going to say arranged marriages are like a cattle market, and weddings of middle and upper-class Indians are where the extent to which middle-class living standards depend on the underpaid labour of the poor are fully on display. 

I sometimes feel I don't want to get married simply because I wouldn't be able to stand my wedding. 

Good at Explaining vs Good at Teaching

 After a disastrous start to teaching last week, I recovered in spectacular fashion, if I may say so myself. The praise from the students was so fulsome that some of it veered into criticism against the module leader. The praise was satisfying but I wasn't overjoyed. I have to be careful not to be seen as fomenting dissent against the module leader. Also, doing a great job at teaching may not improve my prospects of a permanent job. I also know that I am good at explaining stuff. And, I might not be teaching them for the entire semester either. I also realize that being good at explaining stuff is a big part of being a good teacher, but it is not the only part. I struggle to facilitate discussion among students, and it is the easiest thing in the world to switch into lecture mode. So, when we reach tutorials which involve discussions among students I know I will struggle, especially in an online medium. At any rate, it is satisfying that students enjoyed my teaching in the first week and I have to guard against complacence. But, I want to do a good job of teaching for the students' sake, not just for the sake of my ego. I feel in abundance the generosity of spirit and duty of care that I wrote about last week. The students are not responsible for my precarious employment conditions and they shouldn't have to pay for it. 

Being Mad At Someone Without Telling Them

I spent two months in a silent rage against someone close to me who had no idea. They were mad at me back in December when I screwed up, and I got mad at them for the way they reacted to my screw-up. But, I didn't tell them about it and a frosty silence ensured between us. It turns out the silence was more frosty from my end. They thought I was just keeping a distance to get over the incident. I don't know what to make of this incident, who was more at fault, was me reaching out a result of my weakness or neediness or both. All I know is self-improvement can wait till after the pandemic. The lesson here is if you are mad at someone let them unless you are prepared to break of all contact. Otherwise, the anger will eat at you from the inside for no reason. 

Day of Redemption

 After a pretty disastrous first day of online teaching, I redeemed myself in handsome fashion today. I took three classes and in every one of them, a student told me they had found it really helpful. I am quite proud of how quickly I picked myself up after being knocked to the ground the other day. That said, a dark cloud floated across the horizon towards the end of the day. A student emailed me saying he was confused by one of the answers to the tutorial questions. I replied, hoping that I hadn't gone wrong with soling that question in class, and confusing the hell out of students from the unluckiest university cohort ever. But, I resolved that if the student said I had gone wrong in class, I wouldn't spend too much energy contesting the charge. I would simply apologize and send a clarificatory email. In this crazy world, there are far graver mistakes than bungling up the explanation to the IS-LM-PC curve. 

If Covid teaches us one thing, it will be to become more self-sufficient. If you go to pieces, it is possible to put yourself back together. This is not to say that one shouldn't seek help. But if no help is readily available it may still be possible to cope without it. Our problems are ultimately our own and we are responsible for solving them. One can't always count on others for support, and one might be surprised by how well one gets on without that support. When there is no one to go crying to, sometimes the only option is to have a cry by yourself and get on with what you have to do. 

Online Teaching Mess

 My first session teaching online was a bit of a disaster. It started with me splitting the class into breakout groups and people having no clue what they were supposed to do for a good 10 minutes. When I finally pulled the plug on the breakout groups, most of the class left, never to return. That was quite a downer and I never fully recovered. I then discovered that trying to explain things online can quickly lead to a brain freeze. I struggled to explain concepts that I had felt were quite simple to do so and by the end of the session, there were just two people left.

But, I am not going to be hard on myself. I was teaching after two years, and teaching online at that. And, disasters teach you so much more than successes. I could write a short essay on everything I learned in one hour of shambling. And, that is what matters. 

Back to Teaching And A New Housemate

 Tomorrow, I will be teaching for the first time in more than two years, its might snow heavily overnight and tomorrow and a new housemate just moved in. I'm both excited and nervous about teaching, as I suppose I should be. I sat in on the online lecture for the module today and was comforted by how much the lecturer struggled with the online medium despite having taught through the pandemic. But, he was good-natured and so were the students for the most part. The last time I taught I felt a generosity of spirit and a duty of care towards my students that took me by surprise. It was a completely different experience from my first time teaching, which was under the cloud of depression. I did a good enough job, but I was nervous, allowed myself to get harried by the teenage antics of students, and was generally ill at ease. Not to mention that I quit and ran back to India in the middle of my teaching assignment. The memory of those days stills casts a shadow on me, although I feel no shame. Yes, I went to pieces, but I have put myself back together and done a pretty good job of of it.

This evening, I ironed clothes for the first time in almost a year. The change of routine already feels good and I know that it will help rather than hinder my PhD progress. 

Dickens The Bigot

 I was going through my past blogs when I came upon one which mentioned that Dickens had defended the British Governor of Jamaica who had brutally put down a slave revolt. On further googling, I discovered that he viewed all black and Asian people as savages. Once, he had expressed a wish to exterminate the Indian race. Dickens is celebrated for exposing the piteous state of the poor in England during the Victorian era. But his compassion for the poor toiling masses was apparently reserved for white people. This tidbit would not have been of much consequence to me as I am not a huge fan of Dickens. I was moved by A Tale of Two Cities, and Hard Times, but they don't count as my favourite books, not by a long shot. However, I am reading David Copperfield at the moment. I last read it, or rather it was red to me about 25 years ago by a family friend who has a knack for narrating stories. Even at that tender age, I felt an intense identification with the protagonist, who also seemed sensitive, pensive, intelligent and principled. I felt that if I was to ever write an autobiography, this is what I would sound like. David was my role model and, Agnes, the wise, kind and dependable girl that David ends up with was my first exemplar of my dream woman. Since then, I have read other books which resonated with me at a deeply personal level--Of Human Bondage by W. Somerset Maugham and Lone Fox Dancing by Ruskin Bond. But, David Copperfield was the first one. As I read the book, it is amazing how much I can remember. 

When I started writing this post, I didn't know whether I would continue reading the book, knowing what I now know about Dickens. But, writing this post reminded me why I am reading this book. Not as a tribute to Dickens but to honour the memory of the emotions it stirred in me many years ago. I am a sucker for nostalgia, and I am reading it for nostalgia's sake. So, I will continue reading it.

Bristol City Centre

 I visited Bristol city centre for the first time in two months today and walked around for the first time since October. The sights didn't inspire any joy, melancholy or nostalgia. Bristol is any extraordinarily pretty city. It is difficult to imagine a prettier city that is not by the sea or not nestled in mountains. But, the city felt alien to me in a way that it has never felt before. I wouldn't say I ever loved Bristol. Due to a combination of my nature and luck, I don't have a social life worth mentioning. But, prior to the pandemic, I usually found being out and about in the city a pleasant experience. Today, was as good a day one could expect in winter. The sun was out for most of the day. But, walking around Bristol inspired as much emotion in me as walking around a car park would. Maybe I have too many others thing on my mind. But, I really feel like I am ready for a change of scene. Earlier, my preference was not to move unless I have to. Now, my preference seems to be shifting to not to stay unless I have to. I am ready for a change of scene post-pandemic. 

Time For Another Timeout

 Today, I didn't get any work done. Actually, that is not true because I spent a lot of time on Twitter, and Econ Twitter is pretty educational. I also attended one and a half talks at two online conferences. So, let's just say I didn't do any of my work. But, I am feeling quite relaxed about it. The past two months have been intense and I need to cut myself some slack. I start teaching next week, and I am not even as nervous about it as I thought I would or should be, even though it is the first time I will be teaching online. Maybe it will hit me in a day or two, but I don't think it will. Tomorrow, I am having a mini outing with a friend after ages, and am quite looking forward to it. When she suggested the plan I immediately agreed, even though teaching starts next week and my PhD submission is less than five months away. Life sometimes throws you what you need at exactly the right time. Its up to us whether to grab it or not. 

The Importance of Feeling Productive

 I had taken up teaching thinking it would, among other things, allow me an occasional respite from my PHD thesis. When I didn't have anything else to do, unproductive spells on my PhD would make me feel deflated. It would require a substantial amount of emotional labour and positive self-talk to bolster me. now, when I get stuck with my PhD, I can always divert my energies to teaching. Feeling productive is great for the mood. And, since my shoulder has taken a turn for the worse, I am having to expend considerable emotional labour power on keeping myself on a even keel as it is. Let us see how it goes but I am optimistic. Today, I turned my focus to teaching prep after hitting a wall with PHD writing, and I felt much better at the end of the day. Teaching hasn't started yet and a lot could go wrong, especially at a time like this, but I feel I made the right decision by taking up teaching. 

The South African Variant

 Apparently, the South African variant is in Bristol and we are being urged to stay home. The quandary that the news put me in didn't last for more than a few minutes. I would stay home if the vice-chancellor shut the campus and not otherwise. I am by myself for a bulk of the time in the PhD and do not put myself or others at undue risk by going to uni. I take all the precautions that have become a standard feature of life. So, I would keep going in as long as the university was open. No more feeling guilty about whether I should be there, or whether I was doing the right thing. A part of leadership is about taking decisions for the collective good and not leaving it to your lessers to have to make individual decisions about the collective good. If the vice-chancellor or even for that matter the prime minister of the country are unprepared to do so, that's on them. I won't be made to feel guilty about it. 

Eventful Day

 Today was an eventful day which started with me dragging myself out fo bed at 5:00 am to wash my bedsheets. yes, I had to drag myself out because I was feeling miserable about my shoulder, which seems to be getting worse by the day. The first event of this eventful day was nearly running on the cycle ride to uni. The woman quickly apologized, the man gave me lip, and we cussed at each other as I went on my way. Usually, an incident like that would put me in a bad mood for hours, but Covid teaches you not to sweat the small stuff because much bigger stuff could be just around the corner. Save your fuel for that. Most of the day was quite unproductive until I hit a thermal towards the end of the day. I wrote more in those 90 mins then I had in days. It also set me up nicely for tomorrow. When I went home and my attention turned to my shoulder, I started mucking around on the web. I found a shoulder specialist in Bristol who seems to know his stuff and also has a youtube channel to share his knowledge. I think I am going to see him after I know the Cambridge outcome, unless my pain miraculously disappears. The bottomline of the story is everything is cyclical: you are on the top at one moment, in the pits of despair in the next. During Covid times, the upswings and downswings are quick and dramatic. The trick is not expect ether to last long.