I last blogged in January. Rather than letting 2022 quietly enter the room, I’m pretty convinced that someone squared up to it and challenged it to do its worse.
When blogging, I am self-deprecating and sarcastic. My default mode is to look for the humour in life, particularly when writing about myself. I just don’t know how to write about my life, work and research right now because that voice, that tone, would be inappropriate. I am well aware that the terrible things which are a constant backdrop in my head at the moment are front and centre for millions of people. Who cares if I am navigating how to do a PhD, renovate a house, recover from a car collision and juggle work at the same time? I mean, could I display my privilege any more prominently? Oh, how awful for me trying to study whilst different trades-people are working on my new house… How terrible it is to wonder how to break up my day so I concentrate on data analysis (my PhD) and recruitment (the project I’m working on)… What rotten luck that I went without a car for a week because my insurer is less than helpful…
Can you hear yourself, Jo?
People are dead. Displaced. Under attack. In financial crisis and unable to heat their homes. Being let down by their leaders. Unsure of their futures. Scared for their children.
And now I’m meta-analysing whether this will be perceived as some ridiculous plea for permission or absolution. It isn’t. It’s just an explanation of why the blog has been quiet.
I am sorry to the authors who have shared pre-publications with me. I will make time to read and review as soon as possible.