Getting my mojo back

We’re firmly marching towards my birthday [pauses to receive birthday wishes]. It is utterly alarming because June 1st means we’re half way through 2022. How can that be, already? As last year’s birthday was a bit of a post-surgery-recovery-write-off, I’m going to claim I’m 40 this year. Again.

It has been a mucky year up to this point but I feel like the last week has turned a corner. Let’s brush over the muck (brush off the muck? Hmmm, I think I’m mixing my metaphors because I’m out of blogging practice) and focus on the positives. Like the fact that the house is more or less complete now, following our move and renovations, so life is much calmer. Or that I’m regularly getting 6+ hours sleep now we’ve invested in one of those fancy, adjustable beds. Yes, we’re totally down with the kids.

In the last week, I’ve also refound my PhD stride. I’m back with my chums on PhD Forum (link) more often, when meetings allow. Also, I’ve gone back to old school methods and reinstated my bullet journal. It’s a really simple but effective way of organising the noise in my head, particularly when I’m juggling multiple things. Essentially, there are official rules you can check out online (link) but my system is simple:

a square bullet is a task
a circular bullet is a meeting or appointment
a dot means I’ve started
shading means it’s completed
an arrow means I’ve moved it to another day or week
a cross means it was cancelled

In addition to this, I lay out pages differently to organise work and diaries and the month ahead and plans and notes. I love how it gives me a sense of completion and that it helps me to break larger chunks of work into manageable actions. I am predisposed to spend far, far too much time making my bullet journals look pretty – but as I recognise that’s actually an act of procrastination, I’m avoiding it this time and keeping things plain.

Also this week, I’m on the final part of my data analysis and I’m so close to returning to the actual writing. I’ve also got to grips with the overall thesis structure. It’s a little like a jigsaw puzzle at the moment: I’m still scrabbling around for some pieces which are missing; I’ve done all the corners and most of the edges; there are a few wonky pieces where I tried to force them into the wrong spots; a few random patches of completed puzzle are dotted all over the table but I’m not yet sure where they fit in the final picture. But, still, it all feels like progress and I’m looking forward to discussing plans with my supervisors this week.

Over the last few months, I’ve had the privilege of working as a research assistant on a project within my department (www.EmbedEDI.com). I’ve landed myself in a brilliant team: knowledgeable, patient, creative and collegiate. The PI has a great approach in making us all feel equally valued. This week has been a period of firsts… Not only is this my first role in a project, but I’ve also had the chance to co-write my first conference abstract – fingers crossed we’re successful. Also, for the first time, I was involved in a presentation that isn’t focused on my own MA or PhD research. I’m loving every minute of it because the research is so important and it’s beginning to take on a life of its own.

A small but mighty win for the week is my desk set up. This must be my third or fourth work from home blog post but, in my defence, we have moved house. The details are dull – so I will be brief – but essentially I’ve managed to sort out my second monitor to a more reasonable height. In turn, this means I’ve been able to lower my desk chair. All of which has meant that my left hip has stopped raging in protest and I feel significantly younger. Although, it will still be a little achy if my wife asks about any chores or DIY!

*Just masking my my teammate’s face as I didn’t ask permission to use the photo.*

I know I need to tidy my desk but how’s that for a high-impact-low-cost solution? Took off the monitor’s fixed stand and I’ve rested it on a book stand I already had.

Anyway, the tiny cynic I carry in my head is cautioning that celebrating recent wins will mean I’ll tempt some sort of catastrophe. I’ve told her to shut up. But in an unpublishable fashion.

Living with a PhD student…

Here is a handy guide on how to approach your spouse or partner as they undertake a PhD. In fact, this would apply to anyone living with somebody undertaking intense studying. Bear in mind, the context of this blog post = a family unit who hasn’t left the house since the middle of March, with the exception of dog walks in a secure paddock and medical appointments. We’re all a little tightly wound at the moment.

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>> How long will that take you?

Try instead: never asking this question or any other that relates to timescales or speed of work.

Nothing will take me from feeling focussed and on task to exuding misty-red-rage quicker than this question. I have no idea how long it will take me. But I do know it will now take me a lot longer because I have to remember which figurative thread I was pulling on and which of the fifty-billion-million-tabs-I-have-open I was working on. Why do you need to know how long it will take me? You are a bonafide adult and you can occupy yourself or solve your own problem without any input from me.

>> Oh, I thought it was ok to talk [at you about my work / a meme I saw / the man-child] because you looked up from your screen…

Try instead: smiling, if there’s a brief moment of eye contact. That’s it. Nothing else.

Looking up from my screen doesn’t mean I am not processing something. PhDs are weird… you are holding so many ideas in your head at the same time and sometimes trying to push incongruent ones together. Looking up from my screen is usually an indication I am stretching my back, resting my eyes (which have always preferred to read on paper) or I’m sorting and moving things around in my mind palace. Ok, I’m no Sherlock Holmes but I do often visualise things. I will also say that this equally applies to reading for pleasure. Don’t interrupt me and pull me out of the world I was enjoying!

>> Bringing cups of tea or coffee and then moaning or being cross because they go cold.

Try instead: using one of the many lidded thingymabobs that we have (affectionately called stay-hots, in this house).

I realise this example paints me as a bit of a cow. I’m not ungrateful and I will frequently go without nourishment and hydration for many hours because I am in the zone (reading and thinking for several hours in a row so that I can write, literally, a single sentence). So, bringing me beverages is great and much appreciated. But, if I didn’t ask for one, I’m unlikely to even notice it arrive. Whacking it in a device that keeps it hot for longer increases my chance of drinking it. Also, the “telling off” for letting it go cold is another interruption which makes the answer to “how long will that take you?” even more volatile.

>> Offering to tidy up piles of work or books.

Try instead: doing nothing and leaving things exactly as they are.

For a start, in this marriage, I am not the messy one. In the past, I have had to tidy and clean her many offices because she likes to work in chaotic squalor. We are talking a penicillin level of neglect. The idea of her implying I’m working in a mess evokes words such as audacity, arrogance, cheek and delusion. I am methodical – it might not be obvious but there is always a method. So the piles are thus organised because they denote something: the order in which I plan to read, connections between authors and papers, topics or themes. If you touch them, you affect that organisation.

Also, this is an example where a partner or spouse looks like they’re being kind and helpful but the implication is that you’re somehow affecting the household because of the space you’re occupying. I have enough self-imposed guilt about being a 39 year old student without others piling onto it.

>> I thought you were going to work on [x, y, z], today?

Try instead: not commenting on when and how I choose to take time off.

See aforementioned references to self-imposed guilt. Sometimes, I am just not motivated to start or to climb back into the-monstrosity-of-an-office-chair-I-was-forced-to-buy-to-placate-my-fickle-spine. I just want to scroll through social media, watch Hamilton on Disney+, read a book for pleasure, play a game or message my friends. I know I have a deadline. I know it’s immovable. It is better that I take breaks, even unplanned, during my low motivation moments rather than arbitrarily having a planned night off that risks breaking a flow. Essentially, I don’t need a project manager; in this situation, you are my spouse and you are not responsible for my timesheet. Cheers.

***

I can guess that anyone reading this who knows me will automatically take my wife’s side… and fairly so. She is lovely and (usually) just trying to be sweet. This blog was more about explaining what goes on in my head when met with these comments, questions and actions. Also, we’ve hit 20 years of “how long will that take you?” It has been applied to my undergraduate degree, my PGCE, classroom planning and marking, coursework and controlled assessment marking, exam board marking (there’s been a lot of marking), DIY and decorating, MA assignments, and my MA dissertation. The answer is always the same and I’m surprised she hasn’t learned it yet.

It. Will. Take. However. Long. It. Takes.

This is life now…

We’ve accepted that we have to reach a new normal in this household. Our version of normal has always been pretty left field anyway.

Essentially, I’m not going to be able to return to my regular routine and way of working… this year. And I mean year-year, not academic year. It poses too many risks to my wife if I start hanging out in university libraries and travelling up to Sheffield to be part of student life. Certainly, not until we have a plausible vaccination. I prefer working out of the house in fit-for-purpose spaces, with nice ergonomic chairs and a sense of routine (thanks Chichester University Bognor Campus for your lovely library). I am far more productive and focused if I’m not in the house. Even a café will do. I am also petty enough that the aesthetic has to be right: I like things to match and look pretty; I can’t work in mess; the space has to be clean. It means, when working from home, I’ll get distracted by tidying up and cleaning when I should be reading fiftymillionbillion articles instead.

In a previous post, I explained that we’d made me a PhD pod within our bookshelves. It gave me the space away from the wife and man-child but it was not ok for my back. At all. It hurt to work from home! Then my student loan arrived – what little is left after I’ve paid my fees – and I realised that as I wasn’t spending money on a postal book service or on petrol and digs to stay in Sheffield, I could splurge a bit on a decent workspace. So I did. With only a small amount of guilt.

I am not delighted that it is the corner of the lounge because it means the room is now used for working as well as lounging but we live in a Victorian terrace, 2 up 2 down, so it’s tough.

The features…

A: my new, fancy, fast laptop. To be fair, I purchased this with the “spare” bit of my January student loan payment. My old, faithful laptop served me well for the MA and dissertation but it was gradually grinding to a halt. As most of my studying was via video conferencing, even pre-apocalypse, and we’d ascertained it wasn’t our internet slowing me down, I bought this slim beast with some tech guidance from clever friends.

B: two cute figurines. The Japanese doll from my brother and brother-in-law and the student-girl from my friend and ex-boss. I don’t generally do objet d’art but I love these and it’s lovely having a reminder of some of my favourite (and wise) people.

C: cable box. Yup, I hate wires and disorganisation. We’ve hidden most of them and used cable ties and blue tac to help minimise trailing mess.

D: lighting options. It’s quite a gloomy room as it only gets the sun until about 11a.m.

E: study books. Some of them are hostages from Sheffield and Chichester university libraries 😂.

F: stationery pot to stop my wife and man-child stealing my sharp pencils and good pens. My iPhone charger is hidden in here, too, for the same reason.

G: obligatory Harry Potter reference. Proclamation no.30: no music to be played during study hours. I’m 85% successful with this.

H: spiky ball thing. It’s up here to protect it from the incessant puppy. I put it between me and the wall then roll it around the top of my spine. It really helps if I’m aching. Plus, that’s where my January – March back injury stemmed from so I need to be careful.

I: laptop stand and keyboard. These help with comfort as the laptop is elevated and I can type 100mph faster on a real keyboard than on a laptop. I did already have both but they were the wrong colour for this room 😬. I did say I was fussy. It means I’ve dedicated the old stand and keyboard to my wife who’s working in the dining room. It’s really helped her back out and they coordinate with the decor in there.

J: office chair liberated from man-child’s room. It goes low enough to be useful in terms of getting my sizeable (wide not long) legs under the desk but, dang, it is uncomfy for my coccyx. Matches the aesthetic though 😂.

K: and, lo, the coccyx cushion. One of the many old-lady features of my work space. This is firm memory foam, contoured for a butt with clever designs for coccyx support. Again, I did have one in another colour but justified the spend to myself because I donated it to my wife. Her bum is chuffed. We’ve both found working from home to be more painful (spine, lower back, neck) than working from an office. We think it might be because you move less and vary your position infrequently?

L: another old lady feature… the foot rest. Only, it isn’t a foot rest as I’ve repurposed it. It was born to be a dish/plate stand; if you have small cupboards, it helps to stack dishes without the palaver of having to remove all of the items in your cupboard just to access the one plate at the bottom of the pile. I bought it as a shoe rack for our teeny understairs cupboard. It means we have a double decker approach to storing the shoes. Now, the shoes are in a tangled heap so I can lift my feet up whilst studying.

M: unfortunately, the desk is nudged up against the sofa. The dogs are delighted as they can now be right there with me as I’m working. Right there. Riiiiiight there. The added benefit is that the 8 month old puppy has stopped lying on/by/near my feet which usually results in squeals when I get up and haven’t realised she’s there.

N: two coasters. One for water and one for the continuous supply of caffeine.

O: book stand. Another old-lady feature so I can read books easily.

P: pep talk from my wife.

Q: my gorgeous desk. It was actually quite cheap at £90, from Argos. Once the logical part of my brain had woken up, I realised I didn’t need a tiny desk to fit where the bookcase had been because I could turn it around 🙄. It was also a great teaching moment as I introduced the man-child to the correct way to assemble flat packed furniture: calm, organised, methodical and with copious mugs of tea.

Just a quickie

No – not that kind. No time for that. Get your mind out of the gutter.

This is a blog about not taking my own advice: prioritisation.

Mum messaged this week to ask how I am getting on. She knows well enough to check in but not expect much in return at this time of the year 😂 Thanks for your patience, Mum.

Usually, in the spring, I balance two jobs: teaching (past) / library assistant (present) + working for an exam board. Actually, in the past, this has been multiple exam boards at the same time. I’m not allowed to say which one, which exam or what role I have. Top secret stuff. Suffice to say, it’s a very busy, high-stakes role with lots of travel and overnight visits. Those who know me well understand that I thrive under pressure and love challenge. My internal wiring is clearly weird but it might be a McKenna trait. We’re all a bit now-now-now. My spring is always hectic but I always get it done.

Anyway, last year, I decided to throw caution to the wind and tried balancing three things: library assistant + secret exam board role + studying for my MA. At least the MA assignments were submitted pretty early and I was back to just two stressful and simultaneous activities. I managed it all in the McKenna manner.

This year? Well. Here’s something I said during one of the fantastic, monthly chats for new professionals, in the Twitterverse.

*Laugh hysterically and knowingly here* Obviously, this is a not-very-subtle example of foreshadowing so, as I’m sure you predicted, I did not heed my own counsel.

2019 spring = library assistant + new work Twitter account + secret exam role + straightforward MA module assignment + MA module that requires hundreds of separate tasks and a frightening level of introspection and self-reflection which I find uncomfortable + the small matter of my dissertation research involving 6 (wonderful) FE colleges + two conferences.*

So when Mum reached out across the universe to check I was still on the planet…

Will I get it all done? Not sure. I feel like I’m at that part in the movie when the soundtrack is super tense, getting louder and faster. There are a lot of drums. It’s underpinned by that opening wail from Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song. I wish I could fast forward through a jolly montage, set to Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5, featuring me working at superhuman speed, eating ice cream, in my PJs and donning a messy bun – popping out the other side brandishing my bound dissertation for submission.

Alas, this is pure fantasy; thus, I apologise in advance to my wife, nephew, Mum, family and friends for my absence / mood / stress / forgetfulness [please delete as appropriate].

* You’re probably wondering why I’m blogging about it all instead of just getting on with it. It’s cathartic to moan, alright?!