This should be a thrill
But it feels like a drill.
It's curious how easily a habit so carefully inculcated over so many years can be broken. It's not been very long since I last wrote wrote, you know, really expressed what's running through my evil brain, but I'm finding it exceedingly hard to set things in motion again. Nevertheless, today's entry aims to be a step toward a glorious return; however forced it turns out.
As you've undoubtedly gathered, my life has been tremendously hectic over these past weeks. The mental image that the word 'hectic' usually conjures up, at least in my mind, is one of a harrowed mom hurriedly flitting about town from one annoying chore to the next. In stark contrast, my experience has transpired almost entirely within the confines of a circle barely few feet in radius. My bedroom floor, covered from end to end in a systematised mess of articles, scribbled pieces of paper and books, constituted the only library I needed. My lumpy, uncomfortable bed served as good a place to lounge and write as it did to rest when I couldn't. My unwholesome diet, comprising of little more than concentrated doses of sugar and caffeine, kept me awake and mentally alert for the many hours—and sometimes days—that my frantic schedule so desperately called for.
Nothing about environment was ideal, but every aspect served its purpose.
From dawn through dusk, as if I was even keeping track of which was which anymore, my routine involved little more than opening my tired eyes and turning over until I was facing my computer screen; my hands simultaneously working their way onto the keyboard. I'd lie there and stare gracelessly, until the words began to flow.
The writing process itself impacted me rather significantly in varying ways—both positive and negative. For one, it forced me to carefully examine what I've been doing all along. I must admit that this greatly clarified concepts in my own mind and carried with it a sense of accomplishment. I'm now beginning to recognise fibres that I've threaded into the intricate tapestry of this miniscule branch of knowledge.
But it's not all about intellectual gratification. In fact, my words so far don't even begin to portray the whole picture.
The single most manifest aspect of this experience, at least from my point of view, was how isolating it was; even for someone with a lifestyle such as mine. Having to sit alone in a corner concentrating on serious matters for hours upon hours over many days and weeks has taken a toll on me that I didn't know could be taken. I honestly believed that if there was one sort of stress test I could ace, it would involve being cordoned off. I wish I weren't so wrong about these kinds of things.
Has the effort paid off? I am not sure yet; I guess, yes, barely.
I have only one bit of advice to those of you out there who're on the fence about higher education. Ask yourself, honestly, is this what you really want to be doing with your life? Or, in the case of the scrawny, lonely geeks, is the outside world really giving you that much grief?
If you answered 'no' to either of these questions, go out, enjoy.
Arm-twisted acquiescence
Some decisions you need to make for yourself.
You know the conversation is taking a really wrong turn when your mother—somewhat formally—prefixes a discussion with, “And, on a more personal note… ” The queasiness that such an innocuous string of words can arouse in the pit of my tummy will be apparent to anyone who knows my situation as well as I do; for you see, you then know exactly what’s coming next.
It is quite customary where I come from, that, when one is regarded to be “of marriageable age,” their parents assist them in finding them a life partner. And by “assist,” I mean they force you into marrying whoever it is they deem “right” for you. Somewhat sneakily—and quite successfully—over the past half-decade, I’ve been evading this sensitive issue with my parents under the guise of being “entirely engrossed with my PhD work.” It’s not surprising in the least that you see right through the pretence, and soon figure out that this is merely a smokescreen to buy me some time; time to explore, experiment and mature enough to make up my own mind on such matters. But what is odd, is that my parents seemed to realise this is a blatant lie too, yet willingly played along with it.
Luckily for yours truly, his little fib provided them in turn with a watertight excuse when solicited by people whose only job seems to be disposing daughters they’ve grown tired of. The blanket excuse of their son being in school—doused in the connotation of his immaturity—almost made them seem earnest when they harped about how ready he was not, how his studying occupied him entirely, and even, how he’s just plain incapable of supporting their daughter at the moment. This made it incredibly simple for them to mercilessly decline any and all who approached; and not seem conceited.
This ensured life was good. As good as it could be, anyway.
And in this time, I’ve grown quite accustomed to my independence. Yes, I’ve fallen once or twice (or eight times), but for the most part I’ve gotten to do interesting, fun things for which I otherwise wouldn’t have had the opportunity. But, as you obviously realise, I still don’t have a lot figured out in my life. I don’t know what I want. I honestly don’t know what I am going to do, or where I am going to do it at. I don’t know what makes me happy; in fact, I am quite certain I am not emotionally, financially, or in any other regard, entirely capable of keeping myself satisfied, let alone another.
Given all that, and given the general state of confusion my life is in, I am not entirely certain this topic is appropriate to bring up any time soon, but with the PhD phase of my life coming to an end (hopefully), my beloved argument is failing to hold water. Today, I found out that my mother is not going to mass-decline any and all requests for her son’s hand, and furthermore, will gleefully proceed to do things in order to set me up. I’ve fought long and hard, but being that I don’t have the energy to fight anymore, or even explain things candidly, I put my arms up in the air and told her to go ahead and do whatever. As in, if someone comes up and keeps advertising their little girl to her, I asked her not to think about me and proceed to do whatever makes her happy.
As long has her measures don’t bind me to follow through in any way.