A rough start
Whoever thought of this expression, a rough start, never experienced a start of anything in life after being born (which does not really count as a start, since no one remembers it). Every new start I had so far was rough, to the point where one other expression, “fresh new start”, seems a little bit more “freezing new start”.
It’s the moving in itself, the adaptation, the language, the people, the habits, everything… And then there’s the work. Which, as usual, is not easy. And it doesn’t seem to be getting any easier. For now I struggle with plans. I actually long for those days when I’ll be the lab from 6 am till 10 in the evening, because I hate making plans. So far my making of plans has involved talking to people and realizing they are not able/willing to help me, talking to my supervisor and realize he doesn’t really want to help (he’d much rather make me feel like an ignorant twat), emailing my other supervisors and realizing they are too far to help. In the meanwhile I keep reading articles, and more ideas pile up in my head, which is nice, but they seem to be going nowhere, which is not nice. But let’s keep hope alive, and have patience, perhaps one day I’ll finish this PhD without feeling that I did a lame job.
This rough start sets me again to think on what it is to be a scientist and if I really want it. I look around me and I see that it’s dog-eat-dog out there. People tell me to keep cool, have patience, work hard, just do my best. But I don’t feel at all certain that I want to invest so much energy into this job, and for what… Maybe to fail in 4 years, if I don’t get a decent post-doc? Maybe in 7 if I don’t get a tenure track somewhere (WHERE??). And all those years without a home... I want my own furniture, goddamn it!!! Ah, the dramas of the middle class.
Well, time will tell. For now, I will… keep cool, have patience, do my best.
And to show that not all is lost, I leave you with a picture of my spotted housemate and the view from our balcony.
It’s the moving in itself, the adaptation, the language, the people, the habits, everything… And then there’s the work. Which, as usual, is not easy. And it doesn’t seem to be getting any easier. For now I struggle with plans. I actually long for those days when I’ll be the lab from 6 am till 10 in the evening, because I hate making plans. So far my making of plans has involved talking to people and realizing they are not able/willing to help me, talking to my supervisor and realize he doesn’t really want to help (he’d much rather make me feel like an ignorant twat), emailing my other supervisors and realizing they are too far to help. In the meanwhile I keep reading articles, and more ideas pile up in my head, which is nice, but they seem to be going nowhere, which is not nice. But let’s keep hope alive, and have patience, perhaps one day I’ll finish this PhD without feeling that I did a lame job.
This rough start sets me again to think on what it is to be a scientist and if I really want it. I look around me and I see that it’s dog-eat-dog out there. People tell me to keep cool, have patience, work hard, just do my best. But I don’t feel at all certain that I want to invest so much energy into this job, and for what… Maybe to fail in 4 years, if I don’t get a decent post-doc? Maybe in 7 if I don’t get a tenure track somewhere (WHERE??). And all those years without a home... I want my own furniture, goddamn it!!! Ah, the dramas of the middle class.
Well, time will tell. For now, I will… keep cool, have patience, do my best.
And to show that not all is lost, I leave you with a picture of my spotted housemate and the view from our balcony.
posted at 1:31 PM
1 Comments:
Know exactly what you mean. Hang on in there. It all looks much worse than it really is.
Kisses
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