Thesis Blues....get your big girl pants on and deal.

Today my thesis looks stupid.

Last week, it looked a tad sketchy, a jigsaw puzzle with possibilities, shonky but redeemable.  Today it is uninteresting, pointless and thoroughly misinformed.

It is also messy and chaotic, not in a good way.  If my thesis was a list of directions for someone to get from Auckland to Hamilton, it's taking them via Pakistan.

The only relationship my sentences seem to have with each other is that they co-exist within the same document.

The only thing academic about it is it's sheer incomprehensibility.  

Adding to the general amateurish design, I am using two referencing systems simultaneously due to a computer cock up earlier in the year which I have yet to recover from.


I like theory, but I seem to be drawing on multiple theorists in the most random of ways, throwing them at my thesis like a toddler throwing bread chunks at an overfed duck.

At some point, I believed I actually HAD a point.  That point was quite a few months ago.  My pages are littered with bolded sentences.  Each bolded sentence represents a moment where I thought "oh, that's the point".  Um.  No.  That's just grasping at straws.  Thin short straws.  Final straws.

Frankly, it's not a thesis.  It's a random assemblage of vague mutterings and slip shod ideas held together with the chewing gum of wishful thinking.

I have suspected this for some time, but denial is my happy place.

And so I've kept busy covering my disquiet in lashings of further research.  Procrastination, thy name is further research.

Right now, there is only one thing to be done....

I need to resist looking for a big bucket of sand to stick my head in.

Writing is just bloody hard.

Sometimes you just gotta stick your big girls pants on and deal.






Big.  Hairy.   Sigh.


Tracexx

That big old ugly monster Self-Doubt

Aah self-doubt...for some a constant companion, for others an occasional visitor...

Everybody suffers from it, but how much is too much?  I mean, it might sound odd, but I think doubt is just a part of the landscape.  The only person I ever met who didn't seem subject to bouts of doubt (doubt-bouts?) was a complete tosser.  Complete.  Tosser.  Does this mean that over-coming self-doubt means throwing the humility out with the bath-water? Hope not.  Anyway a little bit of doubt is normal, right?  Whether you are starting a new job, make a big decision, or about to sit down and finally commit yourself to writing your story / thesis / play....anytime you are about to put yourself out there for people to judge or where heaven forbid you could make "The Wrong Decision", you're going to invite in a little doubt..a cute little doubt, like this guy....

oh bless....doesn't look to scary, right?  We give him a little wave from across a crowded room, he makes eyes at us.....we forget about him....and two weeks later when we least expect there's a knock on the door and there he is, the cute little guy.  Only he's got a couple of suitcases with him and he looks like he's here to stay.  We let him in.  We manage to ignore him, on and off, but he kinda gets in our ear.  He's hungry.  And we keep feeding him, so he gets bigger and bigger and one day he looks like this....

OK, that is no longer cute.  Self-doubt, according to research, does the following things to us (I've nicked these from this website, check it out https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/functioning-flourishing/201504/wish-you-could-banish-self-doubt ) We......

• Become defensively pessimistic in an effort to avoid taking on new challenges.
• Procrastinate and try to put things off.
• Self-sabotage our efforts so we can logically blame our failures on other factors—like “I’m so hungover, no wonder my presentation was terrible”—in an effort to protect ourselves from really trying.
• Drive us to overachieve in an effort to prove ourselves wrong and risk burning ourselves out.
• Suffer from the imposter syndrome, unable to accept praise for our efforts because we believe we don’t really deserve it.

Oh, procrastination, aye?  I know a lot about procrastination.  True story:  about a month ago I was so worried about the procrastination I was doing instead of my writing that I watched a couple of youtube clips on it, then logged into book depository and researched and purchased a book on it.....anyhoo......Imposter syndrome?  Another biggie.  I feel so fake sometimes I may as well buy a big black moustache and novelty nose to go with the feeling.  So yes.  Self-doubt is bad....BAD I SAY....but yeah nah.....a little bit of self-doubt isn't the end of the world...

It comes with the territory.  We are only really comfortable when we already know we rock at something.  And that can't happen at the same time as we are doing something new.  And doing new things is good.
And we don't want to be a tosser.
Everybody feels self-doubt.  All of us, you're not alone.  Except for the tossers.
And we don't want to be tossers.
A little bit of self-doubt might help nudge us along...might make us work a little harder...might make us examine what we are doing....might sound an alarm if we're on the wrong track..
A little bit will help keep us teachable, because we aren't a know-it-all you-know-what...
It will keep us humble.

I'm definitely not talking about letting self-doubt move in and consume us.  I'm just saying notice it when it arrives, ask it why it's there, give it a quick pat on the head, take a breath....and then keep on doing what you were doing.  Because.....

The inbox is never empty and The Cult of Done

Recently, a friend posted the following on my Facebook wall, compliments of a blogger named Bre Pettis.  (You can find his blog here http://www.brepettis.com/blog/2009/3/3/the-cult-of-done-manifesto.html

The Cult of Done:

There are three states of being. Not knowing, action and completion.
Accept that everything is a draft. It helps to get it done.
There is no editing stage.
Pretending you know what you're doing is almost the same as knowing what you are doing, so just accept that you know what you're doing even if you don't and do it.
Banish procrastination. If you wait more than a week to get an idea done, abandon it.
The point of being done is not to finish but to get other things done.
Once you're done you can throw it away.
Laugh at perfection. It's boring and keeps you from being done.
People without dirty hands are wrong. Doing something makes you right.
Failure counts as done. So do mistakes.
Destruction is a variant of done.
If you have an idea and publish it on the internet, that counts as a ghost of done.
Done is the engine of more.

For someone who struggles with analysis paralysis, who suffers from fear in committing anything to paper in case it isn't perfect, for whom decisions are the hurdle at which I fall - this is gold.  I could procrastinate for New Zealand at the olympics for all these reasons.  And, it seems, I'm not alone.

There is an accompanying Facebook page to this manifesto called 'The Cult of Done' which has 3207 members.  From cleaning out the refrigerator to paying tax, members post the things they have finally gotten around to doing.  This is really quite cool on a number of levels.  We could all do with a little praise and recognition, right?  I mean, I don't need to be followed around by a cheerleading squad all my life, but a little love would go a long way on occasions.  If I've finally managed to clean the cobwebs out from behind the dresser, well, that deserves a small shout out, surely?   If I achieved 200 words in my Masters thesis - go me.  Cleaned up the cat sick?  Goddess.  If I posted any of that up on my own Facebook wall it would be considered insufferably smug by some, unbearably boring by others, and baffling to the majority, I suspect.  By providing an outlet for telling our successes, aside from saving our loved ones from such random posting, doing so helps us to feel a sense of achievement  in what might otherwise feel like a day of carting water uphill in a sieve, right up until we fall into bed exhausted and feeling no further ahead than the day before.  The inbox of life is never empty, and if we don't notice our own successes we often forget we had any.  How often do you feel like you've been super busy but you've made no progress?  We shouldn't forget to pat ourselves on the back for what we have managed to do (in the face of all the stuff we didn't), doing so is what fuels our ability to face the next day, and the next, and the next....without feeling stressed out by the futility of it all.  Okay, that might be a little bleak, but you get my point.

Ultimately though, for me it's about learning to do things without fear and without feeling overwhelmed.  The above manifesto is a great reminder that just getting on and doing it is sometimes the best thing we can do.  Not sure exactly where you're headed?  So what?  Just start.  Not sure it's perfect?  No such thing anyway.  Paralysed by the length of the to-do list?  Get comfortable with the fact that the in-box is never empty - it isn't all or nothing - no need to sit on the couch naval gazing with no idea where to start.

So celebrate the stuff - the big stuff the small stuff the I finally got off my arse and paid the power bill stuff......go you!!

Contemplations on my Masters thesis:

If it was easy doing a Masters thesis then everybody would be doing it.  Or so the saying goes.  Actually, it's not doing the work that's hard, it's the mental anguish of disciplining yourself to sit down and begin a task that has no apparent start or end point, no direction other than what is in your own head (and that's not reliable at the best of times), no deadlines other than those self imposed - unless you count that one that is so many months away your denial-brain can't fathom it and where any distraction is better than going on that forced march through your own head each day.

Ways you can tell I am doing a thesis:

- I am losing hair.  Literally.  This is something that happens every time I study.  The constant raking of fingers through the tresses, or the stress, or the imbalance caused by too much coffee...I don't know, but hair is everywhere.  On the floor.  On the pillow.  Down plug holes.  Over all my papers.  In sandwiches.  Nowhere is safe.

- I post more frequently on Facebook.  Trivia.  Ramblings.  Nothing is not interesting enough to find its way onto my victim-friends feeds.  If I could add my Facebook word count to my thesis I would be done.

- I overtake everybody on Candy Crush.

- The kitchen table disappears under a sea of books and papers.  I appear to prefer finding articles and books that are on topic rather than reading them.  I would rather spend a day researching possible sources than writing ten words.  I am hoping for some type of osmosis.

- My dog is well groomed.  Pissed off with me, but well groomed.

- The cats are more intelligent.  They are nowhere to be seen.

- 'Friends' cross the street when they see me coming.  The stress of not mentioning the M word is too much for both of us.  They worry they might accidentally ask me how its going.  They worry I might actually respond.  For a long, long, undecipherable time.  Agonising and embarrassing for all parties.

- I no longer have an opinion.  I am hyper aware of how little know about anything.  I can not complete a sentence without needing to provide references for my thoughts (Sharp, 2016).

Ah the list goes on.  And so must the show...so back to it...

Tracey

The March of Civilisation - *cough*

Human beings are meaning-seekers.  We have this inbuilt desire to keep moving forward, to progress toward....um, that thing that gives us purpose and a reason to get out of bed in the morning.  That new car, that person we want to be, that money / job / promotion / degree / new kitchen - you name it, we want it.  We suspend contentment, thinking we'll be happy - finally - when we arrive at that future destination.  We forget the joy is in the journey, and that the destination actually doesn't exist (unless you're talking about the final destination, and I'm not sure we should really be hurrying towards that!).    We treat life as if it is linear - marching roughshod over what is good in the here and now.  And it's not just in our individual lives' that we do this.  History - the story of society's march of progress toward civilisation. Cough.

As humans, our understanding of the march of civilisation is, exactly, that of a march - of a steady progression that started somewhere ( in a cave, with awful amenities and heaven forbid, no facebook) and is currently somewhere a lot better than that (with all sorts of flushing, beeping and flashing technologies that we like to think we control).  In western industrialised society, we teach our children how we've progressed in our humanity from barbarism to the democratic society of today, citing periods of time where women were burned for being witches, of world wars where millions left home to die in trenches elsewhere, or where one mad man could dream up and execute a bureaucratic plan of mass murder under the noses, seemingly, of all of Europe.  As if the blight is gone.  The blood  has somehow left our hands. We forget our own histories in our bid for a good nights sleep.  We pretend poverty in our own cities isn't structural violence.  The use of drones to kill in far off places is  as strange as it is invisible to us.

We teach our children how we've progressed in our technology and economies, with our competitive free markets and trade capable of delivering flat screen televisions to every room in every house...well not every, you have to be a good, actively engaged working citizen.  Anybody can be part of the Dream if they really want to.

And then we look outwards to the 'developing countries' and 'new emerging markets' (what we used to call the third world) and we put them on the linear bar...they aren't here yet, at some stage in the march of civilisation we decided to catch a train and get ahead.  They'll be along presently when they figure things out I guess.  (Although, if they get too big their boots we might have to step in, in the name of global peace of course...)

Meanwhile, we set about consuming our planet like locusts (but remember, you can get a flat screen television for every room in your house so there's always a silver lining), and we are growing steadily immune to the plight of those who cling on to existence with their fingertips.  Planet earth is not the same for everybody, one day you're in - the next you're out, she's a competitive world out there.  Soz  to the species on the verge of extinction and the people consigned to subsistence living in slums, you weren't competitive enough.  But we can offer you some two minute ads on television pleading your cause for money, prod our consciences and we might share some scraps. You'll need to be entertaining.  One click of the remote and these problems can remain...well...remote.

March toward civilisation?   Or we are lurching around in the dark making the same mistakes over and over?