Snails pace

I feel like a snail, trying to run a marathon. And I feel stupid for trying in the first place. What on earth possessed me a year ago???? Was it ambition? Was it temporary insanity? Was it existential angst, fearing for misery in the future without the doctorate (as in no job, no pension, no future)? Was it arrogance? Damned if I know.

Nature

Both my readers complained last week that I have not been writing anything. This is true, I haven't. Starting out I thought I would have lots to write about my research adventure, but doing research is actually a very lonely job. Most of the time I'm stuck by myself in a room with a computer, trying to type something interesting onto the screen. This is a very slow and boring process. I could rant on and on about my supervisory problems, but I don't want to get into a liability suit (or whatever it is called), so that topic is a bit off limits too. Past weeks I've tried to get my enthusiasm back (I was on the verge of chucking the whole thing in), and wandering through nature works better than meandering through the uni. Here's some of the beauty of Oz, so there you go: I'm writing again.


Lorikeets and pidgeon


Autumn in Oz