cape flats' mothers and new year's eve

I called a friend of mine who like me has long since escaped the physical and other confines of the Cape Flats. What was she doing on New Year's Eve? Well before anything could be done the house had to be cleaned. A lesson from her mother - you can't greet the new year with last year's dirt. We laughed to how successful our mother's indoctrination had been. This was a lesson I had also learnt from my mother. And over the years I've always adhered in varying degrees to this once strictly enforced doctrine. So as I sit down to write my final blog post for 2013, my washing is drying in the hot summer sun and the vacuum cleaner is on the ready to suck up the last of 2013's dirt.

Next to my cup of tea, my beautifully annotated examination-copy thesis sits. I was determined to finish off 2013 properly - yes I've completed all the corrections and produced a cover sheet detailing how I attended to them. This will accompany the final, revised version of the thesis when I send it along to the Research School at the very start of 2014. So it's finally over; the PhD.

This holiday period felt so light, I felt so light without the worry of the PhD (save for the corrections of course). Thinking back to last year this time, I was in such a different emotional space - I could taste the heaviness that enveloped me. I'm grateful to be able to see things differently now and tell a different story about 2013 - the year I finished my PhD. Reflection involves confronting and acknowledging the happy and sad, the good and the bad - these two elements are always present, they just take up different amounts of space at different times. So my PhD and the year I finished it, has been beautifully fashioned by both the good and bad, happy and sad. And I'm very content with that realisation, outcome, narrative.

Part of my pre-2014 cleaning will involve clearing up all the now superfluous papers and notes that represented that final push before the viva. My study must be ready to embrace all that 2014 has to throw at it and I think my mother, if she could comprehend it all, would be particularly proud of my cleaning efforts on this hot and windy new year's eve.

a PhD free Christmas?

For the first time in four years I'm going into Christmas without a PhD hanging over my head. While I'm happy about this prospect, it's also somewhat weird. My 'normal' these past four years has always included the PhD and it feels somewhat unsettling not to have it, also like a warm, snugly comfort blanket. Of course I still have to sort out the 'minor corrections' - I received the notification from the Research School last week and have until February to sort everything out. Although I want it done and dusted come the new year. It would be lovely to have the PhD completely wrapped by before I see in '2014'. So it seems my Christmas won't be completely free of the PhD.

a final goodbye

When I visited Cuba in 2000, I asked why only Che Guevara's face adorned the many t-shirts we saw there and why there were none of Fidel Castro - we were told that, in Cuba only the dead are immoralised in this way because the living can still betray the revolution.

Today I watched from a thousand miles away how Nelson Mandela's body was lowered into the ground. One minute his coffin was visible over the graveside and then, with just a blink,  it was gone. I've been filled with such sadness, and deep reflection that feels at the same time personal but inextricably part of a collective consciousness. I'm in England and all I wanted was to be home in Cape Town, in South Africa, with my family. So I could sit with them and cry, and remember, and debate, and shout at the TV in unison when No 1 offered the world insincere half truths, lied and delivered unemotional cliche sentiments - even though the act of shouting at the TV would showed up our failings, our inability to be like and act like Madiba would.

I don't have any words of wisdom about how Mandela changed my life and how I'm now going to uphold his legacy and do as he would have done. I'm not quite sure when the sadness I feel will leave me even though the acceptance of his death, and this death to come, has been living with me for a while now. What I know now is that I will be proud to wear a t-shirt with his emblazoned image safe in the knowledge that he did not betray the revolution. Hamba kahle, Nelson Mandela, hamba kahle.

crap at writing

I've been crap at writing about my post-viva misadventures. I've been caught like a rabbit in headlights as I stumble around dealing with the mundane minutiae of the administrative side of academic life. This has left me little time to ponder what it means to be Dr Coleman. In fact when people comment or use the Dr title to grab my attention I typically dismiss it and say 'It's not official yet' in the hope that this liminal space - between submitting the corrections and getting the official documentation/certificate -  can buy me some time to work out what it actually mean to be Dr Lynn Coleman. Never mind!

I did engage in some fairly enjoyable academic activity last week when I went to HELTASA - the one stop shop for all things Academic Development in South Africa. Lots of congratulatory wishes, hints at possible job offers (although I'm not convinced), some genuine networking opportunities, and general socialising of the academic and not so academic kind (aka lots of dancing to old 80s music). Unfortunately the buzz around the conference subsided rather abruptly - I find myself juggling the 'mundane minutiae' and the more serious need to complete my preparations for the SRHE conference next week. I'm not winning the battle!

smarty pants

My favourite congratulatory card - received from my Boetie. I'm thinking I should wear the badge to work!

happiness in bitter sweetness

I feel a deep regret at not having written this post a week ago, for now all the happiness and elation I felt last week at having finally reached the end of that rocky journey, has dissipated. I passed my PhD with minor corrections after an intense viva experience that I don't think I could have prepared for in a 100 years. I still need to tell that story but it won't be right now.

Tonight sitting here in my warm lounge working on eliminating all the typos in the thesis and fretting at the thought of having to reformat the page numbering and once again do all the Image and Figure cross-referencing - I've been disturbingly reminded how uncertain the PhD journey, and in particular how fragile the supervisory relationship, can be. It does feel right to be waxing lyrically about my achievement while a friend of mine is battling some of the same demons I did just a few months ago. Bitter, sweet; always bitter, sweet.

on my way to the UK

Indeed the time has arrived and by 10pm tonight I will be on a plane heading to the UK to attend my viva. The final little piece to the puzzle that soon will be 'my PhD'. So much has been happening in my personal life these past few weeks, that in certain ways the viva and its preparations have had to take a back seat. And now as I'm always fond of saying - the process is just carrying me on. A sense that it's all outside of my control and all I can do is 'go with the flow' as my Mom is fond of saying. But I have been practicing and thanks to some coaching from a colleague and long lost friend MSJ, I feel ok about what I might encounter next Wednesday. I'll have some time over the next few days to put the finishing touches to my notes and rehearse some of the more standard responses to standard-type questions. But I also feel very supported. I've received well wishes and sweet, kind thoughts from so many people and my thinking is, with all this positive energy around me, a positive result is inevitable. I'm open, realistic but very aware of the work I've put in and I don't have to guess that the thesis is of passable quality. And all I want is to pass.

So here goes - and when I get back to Cape Town I'll have achieved this 'thing' and be recognised by a little precursor to my name (I can't get to the correct naming convention) that can mean so many things to different people. I'll have to work out what it means to me. But that's a story for another day and another blog post. Besides thinking about the moments immediately after the viva I'm also thinking about having some beach sand between my toes this Christmas, without any guilt associated with having chosen the beach instead of working on the PhD.

self talk and visualisation

A few days ago I responded to someone's question about how my viva preparations were going by saying 'the mind is strong, but the body is weak'. I was referring to my inability to get myself to just sit down at a table somewhere and do the preparation work I needed to do. I wanted to do it, and each morning I told myself I needed to do it, but I kept failing to do it. My friend's response to my lament, was to suggest that the mind is the most important ingredient in all this and as long as the mind was willing I would be ok.

Reflection on this piece of advice I see so much truth in it. Since my mock viva, I've been rehearsing answers, strategies for answers, thinking through different angles to take on particular questions - but I've been doing all of this in my head. I've been telling myself it will be ok, the viva will be ok, that 'I know my stuff'. I've been visualizing the day before the viva, the day of the viva, seeing myself in the viva, talking, expressing, responding, even feeling the intensity of the experience especially that burning sensation in my face that usually comes when I'm engaged in a heated discussion or when I get asked a difficult or tricky question. My visualisation are always about a positive outcome. I always pass, I think I believe this - that my thesis, my research and my understanding of the research is good enough to warrant a pass. But I'm preparing for different variations of this outcome - I see myself content with a 'pass with substantial amendments' even though I would prefer a 'pass with minor corrections'. But pass is the operative word and all the emotions attached to my self-talk and visualisation is linked firmly with this word.

mock viva intensity

I did, or should I say, I survived, my mock viva last week. The most lasting impression of the whole exercise was its intensity. Even though I 'sat' across the table (thanks to Skype) from my 'mock-examiners', who I knew personally, I felt the intensity of the process, the discussion and dialogue that will be a core feature of the REAL event in three weeks time. I jokingly said afterwards, that if I was nervous about the real viva, after the mock, I'm now definitely scared. The mock viva made it blatantly clear to me that the viva is not to be confused with a 'conversation or chance to talk about my research', which unfortunately conveys a sense of a somewhat calm, easy, relaxed and informal chat one might have with peers. This will be different. It will be intense and I will need to perform appropriately. I need to have an primary angle on my research but I also need to be able to see my research and its implications from a number of different angles (even angles I haven't thought of before). I must be able to think on my feet and engage in true academic debate. This means having a deep understanding of my research study but also how it relates and impacts on issues that are much border than the research's narrow parameters.

Besides getting a taste of the intensity to come, the mock viva was extremely affirming. Even with the difficult questions and my reliance here and there on crib notes, I felt confident. And not just a superficial sense of confidence - but an authentic sense that actually I do know my stuff (mostly) and if I prepare some more and work out my strategies slightly differently I can come out alive on the other side. Yes I really can taste the end of this journey.

what can I say?

Dear Lynn

This is to confirm arrangements for your Open University research degree examination.

Your exam will take place on 13 November 2013 at 14:00 at the university campus at Walton Hall, Milton Keynes. 

Please report to the quiet area outside the Cedar Meeting room, Jennie Lee Building, 1st Floor, in good time

If you have any queries, please contact the Research Degrees Office on +44(0) 1908 659616 or reply to this email.  I wish you every success in your examination.

Kind regards

Su

erratum

I'm sitting in the cafe in Obs. I sit here most Sunday evenings, trying to write, trying to reconnect with my 'academic' self, drinking more cappuccinos than I suspect is good for me. I've been trying to write a rough draft of a section of a chapter I'm meant to be construct with my supervisor. I'm late with getting the draft together, yet the more I work on it, the more the argument I'm trying to construct seems to slip away from me. I haven't been able to selfishly block off time during my 'working' week to attend these 'academic' type tasks. I'm frustrated by my inability to organise my 'working' life so that I can accommodate and nurture my 'academic' self. These frustrations morphing into self-doubt about my ability to have or indeed cultivate an 'academic' self. Last time I noted how I actually might enjoy writing, provided I could accept that it was a long, slow process. Somehow the 'slow' aspect that is so revered in cooking and design has become twisted in my brain, representing all things negative.

Working on this chapter means working through my thesis and picking up the stupid, silly, downright careless mistakes that now appear to litter my thesis. Each time I find one of these irritating little reminders of my carelessness I curse at all the checks and balances and quality assurance measures I put in place to help avoid the very situation I now find myself in. I know there is a moral to this story - 'there is no such thing as a  error-free thesis' - but for now I just want to kick that freaking moral in its teeth. Yeah, yeah I know, ahimsa but I get some warped sense of satisfaction imagining that I could effect some pain on this inanimate thing causing me all this frustration. But all I can realistically do, is sigh, a long, deflating sigh and add yet another embarrassing entry to 'that' list I will take along to viva room on 13 November.

writing again

I'm trying to pull together a rough draft of a chapter I'm co-authoring with one of my supervisors. Once again I'm thrust into that strange happy-depressed placed. I'm excited about the opportunity to talk about my research, put forward my ideas and find ways of telling my story. But in equal measures the anxiety and frustration of not getting the 'right' words on paper and realising that I don't really have such a significant story to tell anyway sends me straight to the depths of despair. Sitting in my calm space this afternoon, having craved aside two hours to work on my writing away from my day-job I constantly had to tell myself, not to pour meticulously over each word, to focus on getting the argument down and leave the specifics associated with writing style until the next draft. Paying attention to this self-talk was exhausting, leaving little time to focus on the actual nuts-and-bolts of the paper I was trying to construct.

Earlier in the week I came across this http://thesiswhisperer.com/2013/09/25/how-to-write-faster/. In my mind this is just the thing to send  an eager would-be academic writer in search of the comfort of  a bottle or two of good South African red wine. Isn't it great to have a few little 'verbs' or topic sentence structures to set you on your merry way to write 'publishable' paragraph after 'publishable' paragraph. The energy I now need to counter this, well intentioned, but misdirected and dispiriting advice makes me want to just forget any delusional ambitions I might have had about publishing and find those bottles of red wine. A more  productive and, dare I say, empowering course of action is that I simply take the crib notes on offer and see the blog post for what it is - a narrow, one dimensional and decontextualised account of the very high stakes activity of academic writing, that instead of problematising the reasons for the difficulties writers' encounter, helps to perpetuate a deficit view of certain writers, who even after taking the advice on offer still struggle and even fail to produce those reams of 'publishable' words and sentences.

its been a year

Yesterday marked a full year since I arrived back in Cape Town. On the one hand I can't believe the time has passed so quickly, yet on the other hand there were distinct periods that passed by excruciatingly slow. Last year this time all I wanted to was to be further along with my work. When I reached December  and hadn't made much progress I remember my extreme frustration. Then came the month of writing the Introduction and another month spent re-working the data chapters. So yes, the time did disappear before my eyes but at certain times I felt each moment tick over.

I had an e-mail from my colleague in the UK - she submitted her thesis a few days ago, just making the fourth year cut off point. The 2008 cohort appear to be finally closing the circle. Then I get e-mails from the OU advertising activities for the new PhD recruits. This makes me think back, almost nostalgically, to my first few days at the OU, which now seem such a long, long time ago. But, I'm pleased that I'm on 'this' side of that journey. I realise I haven't said much about how I feel about being back home for a year. That's a story for another day, nicely lubricated by some lovely South African red wine.

write even when you don't want to

I was thinking about my last post a few days after I'd written it, reflecting on the fact that while I'd been conscientious in maintaining this blog I had completely stopped my journal writing. I've been journalling in one or other form since my early 20s. But I stopped about three years ago. The personal is too personal to write about. In my head the blog is for my PhD experiences, the ones I am able to share with the invisible but every present audience. My paper-based journals meant to occupy a more personal space reserved only for me and whoever gets to read it one day when I'm too old to care or dead. I know the reason why its been harder to write in my journals - because what I have to express is too immediate, personal, too painful - the kind of stuff I don't want to reflect on because by reflecting, it all becomes too real and I'd rather it be tucked away in the recesses of my mind. But for that very same reason I also know how important it is to write about those very things I want to forget or turn away from. You need to write even when you don't want to. Here my personal writing and my academic share a common connection. A few weeks back I spoke about being inspired to write. I haven't done anything yet, but the urge and push is becoming stronger. I want to write, even though I don't really want to and I feel this urge is driving me forward. The urge is so tangible that even though I know whatever I'm going to write will be crap, in the first instance, I don't care. The desire is there to do it anyway. I'm on a short break from work for the next week and hope I will concede to the need, desire to write, to create time to spend in my calm, familiar writing and research place. Push myself to do what certain parts of me don't really want to do. In this way the academic writing always has some leverage over the personal. If only it were so simple to rouse my personal writing genie.

what I remember

I'm participating in a pilot research study on the PhD writing experience. I was interviewed today and as a result of this process I was forced to think back on my PhD. Funny how having just submitted already it feels like it was all such a long, long time ago. Another interesting coincidence - September marks a year since my return from the UK, so lots of significance to having been asked to talk about, reflect on my PhD experience at this point.

At the close of the interview I commented how I felt I hadn't really 'covered everything', hinting at a sense noted in the literature on interviews as data collection method that participants find it hard not to want to please their interviewers and provide good, relevant data. I was given a suggestion to use the prompt 'I remember' to drive my subsequent thinking about the PhD for possible future interaction with the researcher. So here is a short list of things I remember at this moment - I'm aware of course that at another moment this list might take a very different shape.

I remember
- the walks from my house in Bardsey Court to the OU especially in Autumn and the warm colours of the leaves
- my office in Jeffrey Cowther Building where my desk sat in front of the window and I could look out across the green lawn and watch people enter and leave The Hub
- going to a conference in Lille in the Autumn of 2010 with my colleagues and one of my supervisors - I did a really good presentation of my MRes research and bonded with my colleagues at a very personal level for the first time. I see this time together as forming the basis of our now enduring friendship
- the tea and biscuit conversation breaks in the Jenny Lee Building with SB all through 3rd year
- the data workshops run by JM and DA where I was really forced to think really critically about data analysis in their various forms - because of these workshops I developed a great respect for linguistically focuses analysis tools and methodologies
- listening to Martyn Hammersley talk methodology and the time I kept bumping into him at the book check-out terminal at the OU library (something like three times in a row over a three to six month period)
- missing Cape Town
- the Academic Literacies Forum when it was an informal discussion group that took place during a lunchtime over your sandwiches and tea but where the essence of debates in the field were discussed and reflected on by expert and novice alike - where 'silly' questions were tolerated and celebrated
- walking home after supervision and crying, unable to fathom why things had seemingly gone so horribly wrong

faint inspiration to write

Work continues to tick over, its only predictability is that some days I feel that I can hang on and cope with the disconnection I feel, while other days I am less optimistic.

Today though, I have this faint desire to write  - to direct my activities and attentions to write academically (possibly inspired by two friends who have been wonderfully productive with their writing). To turn back towards my thesis and craft something different for new audiences. My SRHE abstracts have both been accepted so I have the necessary catalyst to start the creative process. I hope this inspiration, however faint is of the slow release kind that will linger long enough to produce a tangible result.

change is inevitable

I'm trying to maintain a brave face as I tackle the working week. I have good days, when I feel like I've achieved something or I don't feel too disheartened by the mundane tasks I've done all day. The bad days, well...I have bad days.

The most striking thing about being back at work is noticing how much I've changed. It's not only that I have changed, because change is bound to happen over time. It's when I focus on the how that reveals the most significant insights. I feel as if I view my new/old surroundings from OU tinted lenses. I don't think that I'm overtly comparing practices, I'm just acutely aware of how strongly my time at the OU has come to influence and shape my sense of academia. The academic practices I now foreground have a clear OU flavour. I find myself evaluating the saying, doings, valuing around me from an OU position. I say OU but of course it has more to do with my disciplinary alignments, forged very strongly during my time at the OU and the specificities of my supervisors' ways of talking, thinking, doing and valuing. I'm shocked at how much of it I've internalised. It's not necessarily a bad thing, it just creates particular challenges as I find myself operating in a environment where my ways of being bump against the institutional and departmental ways of being. Sometimes I manage these challenges and tensions, other times they send me reeling and seriously doubting myself. I did a bit of English-style whinging yesterday  to my dear friend SB about my re-immersion into working life at a UoT and she gave me some firm advice - Suck it up, buttercup - she said. I think there is something pure and unpretentious about the advice which I can only appreciate. Things will get better and who knows I might even re-acclimatize and change my wayward tendencies.

transitioning 'Groundhog day'

No I'm not Bill Murray - but I am referencing his experiences from the movie of the same name. I can't seem to move beyond a transitioning state of being. I feel like I'm trapped in some liminal space never able to leave. Just when I feel some stability is finally approaching, I'm thrown back into an in-between space never able to build, develop or establish an identity beyond one transition to something else. So what the hell am I? What purpose do I serve? And what the hell does it mean to have a PhD in Higher Education Studies? (and I should add within a university of technology setting!). Having just submitted the thesis I feel myself holding onto the 'PhD student' experience and identity. Well it took me practically four years to cultivate. It was such a certain thing and being at the OU provided the necessary social and cultural 'props' required to take on that identity. Now back at work, I'm not sure what I am. I'm out of touch with the realities of my institution, the teaching context, the people, the politics. I appear to be floating from one area of 'work' activity to another. I say yes to almost everything people place in front of me because I don't want to appear as if I'm trying to lighten my load, I want to fit in, and I don't want to seem like I'm above 'certain' kinds of tasks.

Recently I've been asked to do two presentation based on my research - not that anyone is really interested in my research - simply because I have done 'the research'. You've done a PhD now talk about it - I feel is the main motivation behind these requests. You've done a PhD now sit on our committee dealing with postgraduates in the department. I work in an IT department - what the hell do I know about IT of any sort. I can see myself being roped in to 'supervise' students doing Btech and Mtech degrees in IT because as someone put it, when I remonstrated that I'm not sure what I can contribute 'All research is the same'. I wonder if it's worth arguing against such a statement. On the somewhat bright side of things, working means a proper salary or maybe more appropriately for me at the moment 'danger pay'.

submitted

The thesis was submitted yesterday courtesy of my good friend in England DB and the lovely CREET administrator AF. I was far removed from the whole process and denied the tactile experience of holding the finished booklet, that is my thesis, in my hands. I'm struggling to explain how it all feels. Yesterday when I got the e-mail saying the thesis was submitted, a bolt of something close to euphoria rush through me, followed very quickly by a sense of calm, relief. 'It's done, no turning back now'. Since that initial positive rush, all I've been feeling is mostly indifference. I'm pleased, happy it's all done but in a way I don't think I'm prepared for or expected the rather deflated feeling that's accompanied the submission of the thesis. For the longest time all I wanted was to be at this point. My focus was simply on submission, submission, submission. I paid no attention to what it might feel like once I submitted, I just wanted the pressure, stress and feelings of inadequacy brought on by the thesis writing process to stop. It's not all doom and gloom though, I feel a great sense of relief and can feel my self-confidence slowly seeping back. I miss the thesis in some strange, almost perverse way. In the act of submitting the thesis I'm force to let go of the best part of the last five years of my life.

ready to submit

My PhD thesis is ready for submission. All I have to do now is wait for my supervisors to sign off the thesis. Then to get the logistic just right to get the thesis printed and walked over to the Research School at the OU. In certain respects I've already withdrawn from the thesis. Most of what I've been doing for the last three weeks has been very procedural. Intellectually I stepped back at least a month ago. But until it's submitted all the nagging, 'not-yet-done' stuff sits in my head. I want to take a real 'break' from the thesis and PhD project once the thesis is submitted. Maybe a little celebration will be in order - then of course I have to start working on my viva preparation.

so what now?

I've been back at work for two weeks now. It's been a rather fragmented couple of weeks as I try and work out what I'm meant to do and try to understand the institution I left almost five years ago. Everything has changed, especially me. I walk the corridors wondering where I fit in and whether I have anything to offer. Sure I 'almost' have a PhD in Higher Education Studies - but what does that mean? Everyone is so busy with day-to-day practical issues that seem to bear no resemblance to the ideas, concepts and theories I've spent the best part of five years trying to grapple with and understand. My PhD doesn't say anything about how I'm meant to translate or mediate the abstract theorisation that is my PhD into practical applications or solutions that make sense to my colleague or help them deal with the daily realities of teaching at a university of technology. Because I've been away for such a long time, I've also lost my 'on-the-ground' knowledge and sensibilities related to Teaching and Learning in the higher education context. I feel out-of-touch and without being involved in any teaching at the moment I almost want to say I have no 'street cred'. So I wonder around the corridors unsure of what I'm meant to do and how this PhD fits in to it all. Does the PhD add any value to my job function? Will my job be able to accommodate the new me with the PhD experience? In a consolation attempt I tell myself, rather reluctantly, that maybe these aren't the kind of questions that can be answered after just two weeks on the job.

the exhaustion of formatting

Somewhere in the middle of this week I wanted to write about the shared experiences of the PhD student, after having a long, interesting chat with a colleague. We were reflecting, as I've done before with another friend, about how our Masters' degrees were such an empowering and fulfilling learning experience. We also commented on how the transition from the Masters to PhD was not as seamless as it is sometimes made out to be.

While I wanted to give more blog-space to these clearly thoughtful and interesting issues, I am now consumed with the ever-changing list of formatting challenges confronting me as I prepare my thesis for submission. This task is being complicated by the fact that I will be submitting my thesis while more than 10 000 kms away from the OU. Besides a mountain of logistical challenges associated with this task, I am now confronted by the realisation that when I convert my Word file to a PDF I'm going to compromise the quality of all the photos and graphics in my thesis. I can't stop myself from lamenting - why, oh why did I include all these graphics and photos and give myself more headaches than I already have? Nothing is simple when it comes to formatting a 'moerse' (as we say here on the Cape Flats) long document and I'm trying to get a PhD in Higher Education Studies, not freaking Word! Makes me look back nostalgically and wonder about all the scholars of old (who were probably mostly men) who got their wives or secretaries to type up their theses and never had to deal with all this crap.

Saturday morning

When I woke up yesterday morning for the first time since I can remember I didn't think about my thesis or any unfinished work that needed doing. It didn't feel right. My little routine of going to the library to work on a Saturday morning had become a comforting ritual. It grounded my weekend activities and provided a significant way in which I could off-set any guilt I felt about not working enough on my thesis during the week. Yesterday I didn't have to rush to the library, nor would I be able to come home feeling a sense of accomplishment. I guess this is part of the loss and detachment from my thesis I have to go through. It feels strange and while I welcome not having the constant guilt clouding my thoughts, I still feel the emptiness.

the letting go starts

I've been struggling to complete the final touches to my thesis before it goes off for its last proofreading. It's taken me about four days to do maybe three - four hours of thinking work. I just keep putting things off. I just need to concentrate and do these tiny written amendments, but I've been avoiding it like the plague. Maybe I don't want to let go of the thesis. I've been talking about the anticipated loss I know will come when the thesis is no longer the focal point of my whole existence. I won't be able to use it as a 'crutch' or excuse for any bad behaviour on my part. I've been  full time student for the best part of almost five years now. I'm not 100% sure I'm comfortable about the fact that I will have to start the process of negotiating being something else again.

oh so sensitive

I got, what will probably be the last formal feedback (save for the thesis abstract) from my supervisors late last night. I was irritated at what they asked me to do or rather that I had not got stuff right...yet. I'm sensitive and in these last days as I try to get my thesis ready for the final proofreading exercise I cant deal with critique. Why can't you make sense of the diagram and why can't you tell me directly how to make it 'right'? Why won't you try a little? Driving home on the motorway this afternoon reflecting on the irritation and frustration that is pushing me to tears, I said quietly to myself - don't allow these feelings to cause you to act irrationally and do something stupid. Calm down and look thoughtfully at what is being communicated to you and act accordingly. Now I only have to act with such restraint and calm. I'm leaving the feedback and my response to it, to tomorrow - tomorrow will be better.

Tonight I'm shaving off words - my target is just 50 words per chapter. It's almost a mindless kind of job, playing with words, not their meaning. Lucky me!

text history

I've been cleaning up. I found what can only be described as the text history of parts of my PhD. Sure I'll produce this concrete thesis document, in fact I've already created it. But it's so easy to forget or not understand that the thesis started somewhere else. In bits of paper, scribbles, mind maps, e-mails, hand-written annotations on drafts, of drafts, of drafts. An endless pile of drafts. My developing thinking and ideas all captured over time in all the bits of paper and old drafts I've held onto. Whenever I do this kind of clean-up I realise how attached I am to my drafts - it's very difficult for me to let go. Even more so with the scraps of paper, 'decorated' with my handwriting, that documents how I've worked through my arguments, refined my ideas or brainstormed my understanding of terms or concepts. I want to keep them all and for the moment I am.

Another realisation that got driven home tonight - if you can't handle writing many, many, many drafts of your thesis chapters...don't do a PhD. It's just the way it is, absolutely no point whinging about this aspect of the PhD process. My view on this...writing multiple drafts of anything associated with your PhD does not reflect negatively on you as a writer, it simply says you're doing it right!

a touch of panic

I'm starting to realise that I'm prone to panic. It doesn't mean that I have anything to panic about, I'm just prone to it. For example this morning as I was preparing to send off three chapters to my supervisors so they could have a final look-over. I also prepared a list of all the things I still needed to do to get my thesis into a submission-ready state. As I sat at the dinner table in my lounge with the morning sun streaming onto me, carefully writing down each task I needed to do, I suddenly realised my was heart racing away inside my chest. Then I felt slightly light-headed. I had to stop as I listened and felt my heart pounding away. Why was this happening? The act of listing the last 10 or so things I still needed to do, brought home the fact that this 'thing', this four year old project, that has probably occupied at least 10 minutes of my head space each and every day over this period of time, was coming to a conclusion. It sent me into a crazy, uncontrollable panic. I still don't understand why it brought on feelings of panic, it just did.

So the end is staring me in the face. It feels more like a little meander towards the end. I have time, nothing needs to be rushed, I've accommodated a day here and there for 'eventualities', but still I'm confronted by these moments when this almost peaceful reality, is overturned and twisted in my head by blind panic. Where's the rescue remedy?

final supervision?

I had what was probably my final supervision meeting yesterday. Just over 90 minutes discussing the final changes to my thesis. No pomp and ceremony, just a normal discussion about not calling my analysis approach an 'analytical framework', what to do with the evolving research questions, critiquing the notion of research questions in ethnographic and interpretive research, not using the word interpretative as apparently it doesn't exist (see previous term), my use of some dodgy in-text referencing formats, rewriting the abstract, removing some illustrative diagrams as they cause confusion and a whole series of signposting and editorial 'concerns'.

So this is it! I need to submit three chapters for a re-read within about 10 days time, have my data chapters re-read by a colleague for clarity and signposting, attend to all the editorial and formatting issues with a proper proofreading and then 'Bob's your uncle' I'm submitting, as planned in early August. It hasn't sunk in yet, evidenced by my inability to sleep last night. Maybe this thesis will go gently into the night after all. I guess its only fitting after so many, many months of upheaval.

the insignificant in the face of the significant

I can't escape the strange way that the world and life works. Nelson Mandela appears to be slowing going into the night - close to no longer suffering; bearing the burden of physical frailty and the responsibility for meaning and being so much to our new but equally frail democracy. This is the significant news. And while I thought I was slowly building up my resistance through all his health scares and hospitalisations, the latest news on his condition has forced me to admit and remind myself that you can't build up your resistance to death.

The insignificance of the feedback I've started to receive on my thesis has been accentuated amidst the creeping recognition that this significant person will not be with for us much longer.

My worries and anxieties about the nature of the feedback I would receive was somewhat unfounded. I have been asked to consider and focus on refinements, detail and clarity. The overall argument and the bulk of what I have done is generally okay - but I need to zoom in and resolve inconsistencies in the detail of the narrative and arguments. Some areas will require rewriting, rethinking and reformulating to clear confusion and make for a pleasant reading experience. From where I'm standing at the moment I think I am on track to submit, as planned, within six weeks. Maybe I'm slightly optimistic but it might not be a rushed six weeks - but should allow me the time to ponder and reassess in a fairly slow and measured manner - the way I like to think and write. It hasn't all sunk in just yet - that finally, I too am taking my thesis slowing into the night.

time to step back

Initially, when I first knew there would be a three week 'break' between the submission of my full draft and  feedback from my supervisors I was a bit frustrated. Three weeks of free time or rather three weeks of wasted time, I thought. But as I approach the final days of this three week period my views have shifted. I'm realising the value and opportunity this free period has provided, especially for two particular aspects relating to the thesis itself and the PhD process.

Firstly, stepping back has given me perspective on the arguments and claims made in the thesis and how I've expressed it. Reading over some of the key chapters in my thesis over these past three weeks I am starting to see where I could have taken the argument and possibly why I didn't. Of course I also see the gaps, I'm always seeing the gaps. I can also see the value of expressing the claims and arguments in a sharper more coherent fashion. I've been tweaking my prose here and there, but this has in some cases resulted in additional words which my thesis can't accommodate at the moment. A really significant realisation I've made is that how the arguments are expressed in the thesis is contextually-tied to the thesis itself. As I've tried to 'take out' these arguments for use elsewhere, like for the SRHE conference in December, I can see how they need different kinds of 'mediation'. Here the value, significance and importance of presenting one's work to the field and audiences outside the field have struck me. Especially when taking my work outside my field I feel I needed to develop a more robust articulation of my core arguments. But for me this is really valuable in helping to reclaim the practical value of the thesis. It's a way of bringing the four years of intellectual work down to earth.

Secondly, because of this 'time away' from the thesis and the intensity of the PhD process itself, I'm starting to see the PhD process differently, especially the PhD relationships. I think this can only be because of the distance that has been created and maybe, on a minor note, a reflection on the stage I'm at in the process itself. Towards the end you see things very differently to the views you had as you were setting out or when you were smack-bang in the middle of it all. For me, in order to engage in any critical reflection of the process, the people, the relationships, I need some dislocation from the immediacy of the experience - which this three weeks provided. I've been given the permission to see my own experience differently and I think I have gained insights into the actions and behaviours of the 'others' in this very personal and in many ways intellectually intimate relationship. I haven't forgotten those dark days and the conflict and confusion I felt, but now I can step outside of those experiences to try to understand them differently. Understand the people involved in those experiences differently. People always talk about how the PhD changes you forever, and I think before I decided to embark on the process I was most worried about the nature of the changes that would affect me. I see now how much I've changed (maybe I'll have to devote another blog post to reflecting on these changes) in ways I could never have predicted.

Now, I wait for the feedback and wonder where it will take me. So yeah, as obvious as it sounds, this time next week will be a very different time and place. In this moment I am happy to just take on that realisation, its the best I can do?

what to do when waiting

I'm waiting on feedback on my first full draft submission. So what to do during this time of waiting? I must admit that all my fantasizing about sitting in bed watching TV, catching up on fiction reading and other such frivolous past-times didn't really materialized as I imagined. After day three I started to mildly obsess about the fact that I wasn't doing any work on my thesis - work being all the little mistakes and omissions I had picked up and wanted to look at during this period of waiting. But it was harder to get back into the swing of things. Now, well into the second week of waiting and I feel rather undisciplined because I'm not working full days and keep making mental notes of all the reading and bibliography cleaning up I should be doing.

My back hurts like hell each time I sit down at my desk for more than an hour. But, it's lovely to step back from my thesis and just allow thoughts about it to come and go freely through my mind. I fluctuate between thinking that I did an ok job with the thesis to absolutely hating what I wrote. Stepping back allows for perspective and I'm grateful I have some time to allow perspective to work it's magic.

the draft has landed

Just uploaded the first full draft of the thesis to the shared dropbox folder. I feel flat, there are too many 'problems' with it, things I just couldn't sort out. Oh well, I say to myself, shrugging my shoulders. So be it!

Now for a few days 'off'. Sleeping late, watching way too much TV, catching up on chores put aside until the draft was in, drinking more red wine than I should. Then, back to the thesis and the list of 'troubles' that need sorting out.

fickle

Can one be so fickle? One moment I'm in a complete panic about the amount of time I have to get my thesis together and worrying deeply about the quality of the work I'm producing. Then, after editing a chapter or getting some positive comments, everything feels fine again. I calm down, stop stressing and feel like I'm worthy of this freaking PhD. Up and down, up and down go my emotions. One moment confident, the next complete unsure.

I went to Zumba tonight - just fantastic! The perfect antidote to all my troubles. I can't think about my thesis or my silly emotions because I'm too worried about following the steps and getting my feet to co-ordinate with my arms.

Avoidance

I'm in a state of deep avoidance. I won't touch my literature review - I won't go near it because I fear I can't fix it, sort it out in the way that it needs to be sorted out. So I've been avoiding it, skirting around its edges and now I'm running out of time. I'm getting my knickers in a knot over things, issues not even raised by my last supervision feedback. Dealt with, with a rational mind it would probably take less than a day to deal with. I submit my first full draft at the end of the week. Technically I'm meant to submit it on Friday - cause it's the end of the month. But practically, nobody will even glance an eye at it over the weekend - so I have until Sunday evening to upload it. I'm rushing towards this deadline, like the tortoise, in that fabled race. Yes, I'll get there but in my own time. If only I believed that - deep down I wish I was the hare, racing ahead with determination and drive.

And then to crown it all, I've had a crappy week - filled with emotional, practical and physical troubles. I was down with a cold on Thursday and Friday (but of course doing a PhD means you can't take off because of a pissy, little cold). Now my dodgy wrist is definitely dodgy again. I thought I sorted it out three weeks ago, but the injury has come back with a vengeance. I'm forced to wear the wrist-brace again which just slows me down - but if I take it off, I'm back to square one - where I am at the moment. And of course I'm not sleeping either. And winter has arrived in Cape Town - my fingers are cold as I type these words. Just what you need when you are trying to face-down your 'literacy practice' fear.

But onward I go. Of course I'll submit, of course it will be okay. I fantasize about how good my PhD might have been if I was close to the place I am now, last year. I like having the time to mull over things. To allow life to happen and to be able to deal with life, separately from the PhD. I'm going to try my luck in the place of calm for the rest of the day and maybe the evening too. Break the hold this 'avoidance thing' has over me.

and life gets in the way...again!

This was a crucial weekend for me. On Friday I was filled with an urgency to tie up a series of loose ends and get ahead of my schedule. I just needed to get ahead. I was so determined too, and by Saturday evening even though things hadn't gone strictly to plan, I was still in it with a winning chance. But freaking life! I think one is meant to do a PhD on an island somewhere far, far away from the complications and messiness of life. Where you can focus on only the PhD and not be distracted by reality. Of course I don't believe what I've just said - I just wish it could have applied this weekend, or for the next two weeks. I can't switch off, I can't pull all the personal stuff aside. It's the nature of my 'being' and so I get pulled in all directions, always at the expense of my PhD.

Here we go!

Dear Lynn

Thank you for giving notice of your intended submission. Arrangements are being made for the appointment of an examination panel.

You should now go to our website at http://www.open.ac.uk/research/research-degrees/forms-and-guidance-notes.php

to download a Candidate declaration form, which is for you to complete together with your supervisors.  When we receive this form and your thesis, we can send them to your examiners.

We have your thesis title as follows: Literacy Practices and the Curriculum Context: Exploring the Production of Assignments in a South African Vocational Higher Education Institution.  You can indicate on the Candidate declaration form if this changes.

washing it all down with a bit of 'pink drink'

I've had a pretty crap week. So it seemed fitting to wash away all the crap, this afternoon, with some 'pink drink'. The 'pink drink' was the perfect accompaniment to the robust, stimulating and challenging critical conversation I had with LT, an 'ex' of mine. The edge has been taken off my rather up-then-down and totally frustrating week. I'm tired, so tired. I feel I lack the inspiration, energy and drive that most people say they experience at this stage of the game. I just feel spent already. As I'm thinking through the conclusion arguments I want to make, I know it's all in my head - but I'm spent and frustrated that I can't express my thoughts in the ways I know it needs to be expressed. 

My friend and 'ex'-colleague passed her viva with minor corrections this week. A fantastic result and one I knew she would achieve. Of course this is a result I would be ecstatic to receive myself, but having said that I wouldn't feel any shame if I got major corrections. In fact I've boldly stated that a 'pass with major corrections' would be a perfectly reasonable outcome. I'd be annoyed, but not disappointed. Maybe I'm just being realistic, or maybe it's the tired me talking. I know my research is solid, I know I'm making a meaningful contribution - but I also know that the value of what I have done in this research, can and will live beyond the thesis. That's the exciting part for me. In a way I see the process of putting the thesis together as a necessary evil to get me to that point. Again my anti-PhD self is highlighting the very insignificance of this significant process (to quote LT). So hey ho! Onward I go to pin the conclusion down and move closer still to finishing the thesis.

Writing the conclusion

I’m sitting in the library on a Saturday morning. The sun is shining brightly, and Cape Town is decked in blue skies. I’m trying to write my conclusion chapter. I’m experimenting with a form of free writing, with the aim of producing a spew draft. I’m writing around the themes or ideas I generated during a brainstorming and mind mapping exercise. I’m trying not to impose too many critical observations as I write – the kinds of critical observations that will usually make me stop writing because I judge the idea to be ill-conceived, poorly articulated, disconnected from another idea, lacking substantiation or irrelevant to my developing argument. I want to hold off on all this kind of judgement and questioning until I have written all I need to write about a specific topic or heading in the chapter. There will be enough time and opportunity to critique, rip apart and discard when I take the chapter to the next level in the writing process. I few months ago I found some useful advice about approaching a writing task as having many different stages that demand different things from the writer. An essential element of this approach is not to start the ‘editing’ process prematurely. I've tried over the past couple of days to take this advice on board and use this first level of writing as an experiment of ideas. And it seems to be working for me, I don’t have a blank sheet of paper or screen staring at me admonishingly.

Before I started to work on the conclusion chapter I was silently dreading it. I passively avoided moving myself in the direction of working on the task – playing stupid little games with myself, that all centred around avoidance and denial. When I finally sat down to work on it, a day later than planned, I was pleasantly surprised. It didn't seem so bad after all. I could write stuff. I chose not to judge what I was writing. In addition to the writing approach I’m adopting, I think there is a hint of confidence and clarity about my thesis project finally coming through. This really is my story and I can provided the justification for why I’m sticking with it.

killing trees and creating calm in the chaos

I spent most of the morning yesterday trying to create some calm in my study. I'd become increasingly irritated that there were papers everywhere, in indiscriminate piles. What did I need, and what was significant about a particular pile? So a clean up was required. Underlying this practical motivation to see some of the white space that is my desk, was a deeper need to create a sense of calm in my chaotic mind. I'm trying to hold this whole freaking thesis in my head. I think about some aspect of it almost all the time and my head feels like its filled to the brim with disconnected bits of information that are nevertheless connected.

In the process of de-cluttering my study and hopefully my mind, I found the evidence that I've already killed a few trees in the process of producing this thesis. And there is more to come. One more chapter to write and then a full draft to prepare. 25 days to go. Here we go, go, go, go!

home or away?

It's been a slow-fast week. At some points I felt I was making good progress and then at other times everything seemed to be crawling along at a snails pace. I've found that I'm completely unproductive at home. I just can't focus or sit at my desk for more than 20 minutes before needing something from the fridge or getting distracted by some mundane thought that has just come into my head or the unfolded washing cluttering my lounge. It's a really frustrating position to be in because it means I can't enjoy the comforts provided by my living space while also working on my thesis. If I want to be productive I have to leave my home and travel somewhere to work. But, I get such solid work done either in the library or my favourite cafe in Obs. I've also realised that I need to spend more time on the task - and with this realisation hitting home I have to accept that I will have to spend time away from my home and cope with the unfortunate consequences on my time and bank balance.

some good advice

I got some good advice last week. The basic gist - I need to shift from thinking and talking about myself, my work, as being in deficit; not being good enough to meet the approval of the PhD police. As I see that freaking finish line ahead, I know that what I need to enable me to cross that line, is confidence and a strong belief that my work is solid, worthy and credible. I need to believe in what I have done and in the quality of what I have done. No more hedging and grovelling - I need to take the thesis my hands and present it as a true gift that I can be proud of. I have to stop thinking about what lies in the shadows, but focus on what is illuminated. This is the essence of the advice - LT can see all of this already, all I need to do is to see it in myself.

And I'm starting to feel a sense of pride, accomplishment, confidence - a little bit here, a little bit there - as I work through the chapters already written, reworking or reordering my arguments. I have something to say and at times I say it very convincingly and articulately. I have to take my writing, my thesis in my hands and hold it gently and firmly all at the same time.

The autumn leaves

It's autumn in Cape Town. Because oak trees line the walk ways at UCT you can't avoid the beautiful colours of the changing seasons. I like the yellows, oranges, reds and browns of autumn. Unfortunately Cape Town pales in comparison to how Europe celebrates the rustic and rich colours and textures of this season.

I'm back into my routine. I'm disciplined and productive sitting in my favourite calm space in the library at UCT. But my calm space can't protect me from the anxiety I still feel about my writing. I mostly feel like a fraud, like I've con'ed my way into this PhD and now, when I have to show my worth, my writing is letting me down - instead screaming adolescent, incomprehensible communicator. The most common way I've been describing my writing is dull, flat, uninspiring and definitely not elegant. I can see what is 'wrong' with my writing (as I've just described) but hell if I know how to 'correct' it. But I continue on. I'm in the process of cutting down my data chapters. I have to lose about 5000 words from each chapter. This is a seriously tall order, but it needs to happen. In the first edit of one of my chapters I was able to shed almost 2500 words. I've been less successful with the second chapter - I shed a meager 500 words off about 20 pages. I've been told to make my data descriptions crisper and get to the point I want to make quicker. In this way I can try and hold onto the quality of my data while shedding the excess, superfluous words. I sigh, but solider on, grateful that this journey, however treacherous, is slowly, but surely reaching its end point.

last day at the OU again

I'm sitting at my desk at the Open University for the last time. Well technical it's not the last time I will be sitting at a desk at the OU, but it's the last time I sit at my desk. Changes are underway in IET and for the the 'old' batch of research students, this means that we are being relocated. When I come back to the OU in September/October I won't come back to my old desk. I've taken down all my postcards and the hand-made drawings of my nephew and niece. I've cleared away all my personal artefacts, my cup is safely packed away in a bag. Now my desk looks almost identitical to those on either side of me. Slowly, it would seem, the world I knew as the OU is disappearing. Many of my cohort colleagues and friends are no longer students or are in other countries. So unlike when I left in September, this time it feels like it's for real. When I next return nothing will be as it was when I left - of course 'nothing' can be the same - but all resemblances of what it was like to be here will be gone - shattered and fragmented - only available to me through my memories and possibly the odd photo. I feel like I will have to hold the past four years in my memory because there will be nothing tangible or physical left to give it some meaning. It will all be sitting in my head, almost like a construction - real but imaginery too.

I'm glad I'm going home...Only two more sleeps I tell myself. I've started to work actually, in the last dying days of my stay. Working through my data chapters - the ones I need to cull. I'm reworking, reordering, rewriting sections of texts or simply marking up text that needs to be cut or rewritten. The beginning of the very end. It feels good, but also sad. I've been a PhD student for such a long time now, what will I do when I'm no longer that? What new identity will I have to get used to then?

I want to go home

Seriously, I want to go home to Cape Town. I've been in the UK too long. My visit has been unproductive. I had one supervision meeting, I pottered around here and there with my thesis but essentially I've done nothing substantial since just before I left Cape Town. I feel deflated and defeated by this stasis. If there is any significance attached to this visit it hasn't struck me yet, except for the large hole in my bank account.


Today I attended my second writing circle session. This has been an interesting experience and even though I didn’t have any specific expectations about the sessions, I have come away 'wanting'. Granted I joined the group after their initial establishment phase and I always knew I it would always be a temporary stay: this might explain my failure to really bond or find a real space for myself in the group. What I have come to realise, is that my status as a fourth year PhD student is reflected in my writing. I see the disciplinary footprint displayed in my writing style. I see how certain characteristic features of my field are clearly engrained in how I write and this further shapes what I like in other people's writing. I'm a bit disappointed that I don't have a more reflective meta-language to describe my writing journey. I feel I talk in broad brush strokes, rather than in specific detail and can't always explain why I like a piece of work or why certain paragraphs in my writing work or don't work. Looking at other students' work, especially those who have just started their PhD's, I can see how they are grappling with their theoretical concepts, their expression, their ideas, their role and position in their own writing and in a somewhat condescending way I say silently to myself 'Oh how I've moved on from that'. I wish we would talk more about what we are trying to do with our writing, what the barriers are, why we think we do the things we do when we structure or organise our writing in particular ways, how we are trying to mimic, ape, replicate the conventions and styles we think have special privileges in our field or in our supervisors academic world view. I think we spend too much time talking about grammatical rules and getting bogged down by where the reference should go and whether or not the reference needs a page number. Necessary issues to confront I guess, but not what I need right now. I'm experiencing first hand the tug of war between a skills and academic literacies model of writing. Maybe I'm experiencing the required compromise, I don't know.

Red wine and chocolate is, however, definitely on the agenda for the weekend.

painless?

I had supervision yesterday. By all accounts it was a painless affair. I've been in the UK for just over a week. Everything is strange but familiar. I'm in a conflicted space where I want the more familiar context of South Africa but am in a familiar context anyway. I got some really detailed and informative written feedback from one of my supervisors last week. I spent most of my time since then working through the comments, reading over the chapters commented on and making notes about my response to these comments. So going to supervision felt almost redundant? Maybe I held back a little trying to ease myself into the now unfamiliar face-to-face setting. I was clear I wanted to come out of this engagement 'alive' (that is a rather dramatic interpretation) and in many ways I achieved my goal. However, at the end of it all I couldn't help thinking - 'ok!, so I traveled more than 10 000km for this?'

We did however, talk about submission dates and the game is on. Two months to the final draft - well it's the first full draft my supervisors will see, but the plan is that this will be their final comments before submission. I don't think this date and the finality of it all has finally sunk in just yet. We also talking about my expectations about the outcome of this exercise - I won't be disappointed with a 'pass with substantial amendments' result. We joked about the pun/irony around me saying 'I'm only interested in submission' and how my supervision experiences have more than doubly prepared me for any examiner's feedback. Things have shifted, in a good way. I'm pleased. They won't feed me to the lions intentionally and as I have always known - they have my back. I'm pleased and reassured. Now to finish the darn thing!

a research methodology queen...even for a day

I got some preliminary feedback from one of my supervisors ahead of our supervision meeting at the start of next week. Apparently my Research Methodology chapter is 'excellent'. So it appears I've nailed this aspect of my thesis. And I'm feeling arrogant enough to suggest that my PhD thesis can't be failed if my methodology is solid! Of course I don't completely believe this, but it's a nice little bargaining chip that I'm using to boost my deflated confidence.

Basking in this glory I've been really lazy since arriving on the small island. I miss my place of calm and all the young, vibrant people around me there. Despite the very warm welcome I've received and the generosity shown to by my friends and special niece, I am really a creature of habit. I love structure and familiarity and it takes me a while to settle. It's probably ok and I'm trying not to worry too much about ALL the stuff I 'still need to do' to get the thesis to a submit’able level. After all, a queen is allowed to put her feet up from time to time.

the familiar and the strange

I arrived in the UK on Sunday. It started to snow lightly on the drive up to Milton Keynes. My ambivalence about coming here for a month started to firm up into tangible resentment in the same way you know you have to take a small taste of slightly dodgy milk to confirm that it actually has gone off. Everything is so familar though. It's like I never left almost 6 months ago. I went to see my friend SB, who is trekking across the globe to make a new life for herself and her family today, and even though her daughter is 6 months older and more mobile and attentive than she was when I left - it felt like I had last seen them only a few weeks ago. I just slipped comfortably back into how things were before I left. Same thing happened yesterday when I went back to the flat where I spent my last 15 months in England and popped into the OU. It's all so familiar but strange at the same time. I've spoken about this before, even about coming back to Cape Town - it's an uncomfortable, comfort (that's the best I can do at this point). Although my strong South African accent and my need to infect my speech with little Afrikaans sayings here and there tend to clearly signal that I'm fresh off the plane. But things are different...most of my colleagues aren't at the OU  anymore and I'm probably not never going to have tea with SB in the JLB nexus or coffee with SP in the soft, comfortable chairs in the Hub again. But then I knew that when I left the OU in September, but I guess I expect these familiar OU-type things to happen just because I'm in the OU environment. But things change.

Just like at the moment I feel strange to be a South African in England - I feel like all the bad press about the country lately, has stuck to me in the same way the smell cooked fish pemeanates your home no matter how many windows and doors you open. How do I manage it though - do I tell people what I really feel and appear unpatrotic or do I just dismiss all the very obvious rumblings and unsettling realities of South African society and present a optimistic version of life at the tip of Africa? The society I live in is complex, fluid and dynamic and it is difficult to offer a quick little sound bite that adequately and accurately captures all that is South Africa. I feel I'm going to have to settle into my discomfort at the moment - it will pass, or some of the discomfort will pass. It will be all be fine and I have BBC TV to soothe my conflicted soul. What more can I ask for?

on isolation

It's just past 9am and I'm listening to Joni Mitchell. I should be doing other things like preparing to go to England for a month. I'm not sure I want to go. I know I need to go, I have to go. I know once I get there it will all be fine and in a month's time I will tell the tale of how I was conflicted and anxious before I left and how everything worked out well in the end. Isn't that just how it is - the positive narrative we sell to ourselves to reassure ourselves that our anxiety is not really justified or that it is only short-lived. Alles sal reg kom.

One of the common narratives about the PhD (and other postgraduate study, especially the research bits) is that it's a solitary journey. It's your special research study, you become the expert in that particular topic and because of this individual quest, you are on your own 80-90% of the time - with your thoughts and your writing. Most people accept this, I don't think it's a very contested conceptualisation of the PhD. This week this isolation came into sharp focus for me. I was reminded yet again how isolated I really am. Sure I go sit in the library and have all these vibrant life forms around me but it's still me, alone with my thoughts and writing, in between people talking to each other in a mixed-up, social learning context. But every time I have a conversation with someone about the concepts and processes of my PhD my sense of being alone in my head, in this journey, rubs up like sandpaper on my skin. I want to talk, talk, talk - and listen and ask questions and say 'What do you think about this?', 'Explain that to me?', 'Tell me if you think this makes sense?', 'How would you do it?'. But I want to say it with innocence and anticipation, without worry of judgement or concerns about evaluation, without the need to perform intellectual adeptness.

I had this brilliant and engaging conversation with a colleague on Monday in this hot office, over his make-shift lunch, which he shared with me. We spoke curriculum, Bernstein and Barnett's (2006) notion of the double recontextualisation process in vocational higher education. A process I don't quite understand and one that he does - along with another colleague they had deconstructed the process so they understand and grasp it. I thought to myself - you're not meant to do this by yourself Lynn - you need others to mediate and help you over such rough spots - others who know. Then yesterday in the tree-filtered sun at UCT I spoke about my interpretation chapter to my friend and mentor. I was articulating my sense of the relationship between Academic literacies research and Bernstein's curriculum concepts and tools. Reflecting on the unrehearsed and anxiety-free conversational-space, I realised I was just practicing my argument for one of the key contributions my PhD research will make. I reminded LT how this very issues I was talking about was the 'problem' that propelled me into the PhD in the first place all those freaking years ago.
This is how I learn, I can't learn without access to these conversational moments. I have to accept the isolation, I'm forced to accept it, but I don't like it. My PhD is worse off because of it.

submission

I submitted my reworked Interpretation chapter today and yesterday I submitted Chapters 1-4. What can I say about it...nothing much really. I'm a bit nervous about how it will be received - especially the Interpretation chapter. I'm conflicted actually. I'm happy about where my argument is going but the presentation of the argument is patchy and I'm nervous about what that communicates to my supervisors. But what is the point of making this version of the argument watertight if the argument itself is not accepted? This is my logic for justifying the patchiness of this version...I wonder how plausible this line of argument is - will it hold in my next supervision meeting? Fuck it...it's my story and I'm sticking to it.

So what do you do after you make a submission? Take the day off and go in search of the sun of course - especially if in about five days time you're going to a place where the sun never shines. Oh joy!

a little place of calm for a woman prone to hysteria

I have a little place of calm. I go there to seek shelter from the cruel, unforgiving and sometimes unfathomable world. It's good to have a place of calm especially if you are prone to fits of hysteria and unprovoked anxiety. Last week I looked ahead to this week and I felt in control. I was working on my interpretation chapter and I was feeling mildly optimistic about the progress I was making, but more importantly, I was feeling confident about the argument I was building. Fast forward to this morning and all of that is blown away for shit.

Luckily I was in my place of calm, it gave me the sense of peace and security I needed to face this bout of anxiety. I realised today that I don't need supervisors to get my knickers in a knot - I do that all by myself. I went from being marginally confident about the quality of my work (the stuff I'm meant to submit on Sunday) to only seeing all the gaps in my argument and the missing sections of explanation in my literature review. And of course I started calculating that I would never have enough time to address all the problems popping up in my work before Sunday. Always on high-alert trying to work out how to solve my never-ending conceptual and time problems. What a seriously rocky road we travel on this PhD journey.

But my daily trips to UCT library has become the source of some strange sense of calm. I find a spot to sit in the Research Wing, hopefully close to a window and then all that matters is trying to make sense of the writing task I've set myself for that day. I find my concentration is greatly improved and I can sit and work for up to two hours at a time. Then a brief dash out to the 'real' world of undergraduate students trying to get themselves heard and seen by their peers, trying to make an impression. I have a cup of tea, and the guy who takes my order is now saying 'Tea! cold milk, no sugar' I give him a familiar smile and nod my head. I have something to eat, I sit in the sun for a bit. Then in the afternoons I walk down the hill to Rondebosch using the walk to create some distance between the intensive thinking work just completed and the more mundane tasks ahead - like cooking, cleaning and doing the washing. And so I am this strange person, almost mostly alone in her head, finding peace and calm in a place alive with people working on their tomorrows.

I can get no sleep

On the back of an intense week I had a really relaxed weekend. I watched movies, spoke to friends, did a little bit of work on Saturday, followed the sun on Sunday and spent some quality time with my niece in Stellenbosch. I was visualizing a productive and equally intense week preparing the bulk of my thesis for review. I felt confident with the amount of time I had to complete the tasks at hand. For the first time in a long time I felt confident that I could attend to all the 'gaps' I had identified, allowing me to submit a reasonably polished draft to the supervisors come Friday (well I was going to extend the deadline to Monday morning because who reads anything on the weekend, especially a PhD student's draft work?). But this is where the subconscious intervenes and brings any cheeky, arrogant, over-confident PhD student right down to size. I couldn't sleep last night - no amount of Rescue Remedy or Relicalm tablets brought me any relief. All I could do was watch the clock, slowly, painfully countdown the minutes and hours to about 5am. I knew I'd feel like crap in the morning and all the good intentions of kick-starting this all important week would be doomed before it even started. I got too big for my boots - is probably how my Mom might explain the whole sorry night. Where did I possibly get off thinking I could feel confident or on track with my work? So having wasted the day away feeling like yesterday's reheated breakfast - I'm now behind my well meaning plan to do things right this week and have some time to spare. What does that infamous comic-strip say...Piled high and Deeper!

I'll follow the sun

It felt like I needed the sun this week. On Thursday when I arrived at UCT at about 12pm, I felt compelled to sit at the bottom on Jamie steps for a few minutes before rushing into the library to work on my Interpretation chapter. I sat on the edge of University Avenue and watched the passing undergraduate students. I looked out across the Cape Flats, the real world below the ivory tower perched on the hill, and allowed the sun to burn my skin. I've been in Cape Town for more than four months and I haven't really allowed myself to enjoy the city, its weather and beautiful, vibrant people. This morning I sat on St James' beach at just after 10am and for the first time since I returned to the city, I submerged my body into its ocean. Why had it taken me so long? What is it about this PhD process that makes you feel like you aren't allowed to enjoy everyday pleasures? That unless you give everything over to the PhD you are bound to suffer the wrath of the PhD guilt police. This week the sun called me and I listened and followed it.

pushing on despite being knocked down

When I had a serious crisis in my personal life just about 10 - 12 years ago and my common-law relationship ended, I went into survivor  mode. Somehow I feel like I'm in a similar place at the moment. A serious personal crisis and I'm finding a strange resonance with this other period in my life such a long time ago.

Dancing with my mother on my 40th birthday

But I'm a survivor - if anything that's what I am. Thanks to my mother and my big sisters who instilled in me this sense that you never let anything get you down and that irrespective what negative or challenging situation you find yourself in, you have the capacity to get through to the other side. Laying down and giving up is simply is not an option. I guess this is where I get my almost innate confidence and determination from - instilled in me from an early age - you will survive whatever gets thrown at you, you will survive. You will do what you need to do to survive. I went through another period in my life when I believed that you can't just operate in survivor mode, because surviving isn't living. If you want to get anything out of life you need to live, not survive. But needs must - I'm going into survival mode again because I know it will get me to the other side.

grateful to be in Cape Town

I can't imagine what it would have been like to try and complete this PhD alone. I don't think I would have been able to do it alone. I'm constantly reminded of how grateful I am that I'm back in Cape Town. How even when I feel really alone as I go through this process, I am not.

I've been rather upbeat about my progress over the past three weeks. It has felt really authentic, not just a mask created specifically for this somewhat public platform. I really am enjoying working on my PhD, even though I've been grappling with some fundamental ideas and how to present them. But it's always like this when the work I'm doing is of the 'low-stakes' variety. Then invariably when a written tasks needs to be completed or  feedback on that tasks is pending or has taken place my sense of equilibrium and buoyancy and confidence  unravels.  At these times I am probably most grateful for Cape Town. I can't do this thing alone and I'm not ashamed to admit it. But increasingly I know that I will do this thing. I know that what I've done so far is worthy of the degree and I will get to the other side. This is my story and I'm sticking to it.

1000 words today

I wrote...yes indeed. The Introduction has officially been launched. At the moment the writing is a bit romantic and sentimental but I'll whip its butt into shape by the end of the weekend.

Mentally I'm preparing myself for supervision on Wednesday - record the conversation and listen more than you talk. And if all else fails I'll fall back on my new mantra 'It's my story and I'm sticking to it!' In a very strange way I want to say that I don't care what will be said and discussed on Wednesday, because inside me I'm starting to feel that I can do this thing anyway. Although that might be the vodka/tonic whispering to me.