finding things in the snow

it's zero degrees with light snow. once again i'm sitting on the bed. i've just eaten a croissant. i drink coffee. this all feels pleasant.

the snow fascinates me. i can't stop being in awe of the whiteness on the ground, in the sky, or the floating particles in the air. but it's also the cold that arrives with it - that which makes you lift your shoulders, put our hands into fists, and walk briskly (yet carefully, so as not to slip).

my boots are too tight, but hopefully they'll stretch to accommodate me. i like that wearing them enables me to tread in puddles and ice without concern for getting wet toes. i like the noise of the zips when i get home and shed them along with jacket, hat and scarf. it's a ritual i'm getting used to. another comfort, like the food, the snow, and the sound of my own voice reading aloud from newspapers and books (my school time). i read slowly, defying all punctuation, like i would if i was 5. and i guess i'm a child here. my gloved hands and restrictive clothing are that of a child. as is my wonder. and my wide eyed lust for knowledge.

i've been invited to a xmas/birthday party of my landlord, but i'm not sure. it made me anxious at first. i'll have to be social. i'll have to communicate. i'll feel dumb when they speak french. but i guess i should go, if only for an hour.

yesterday i shared some naan with may, an old friend from another life. it was a lovely reminder that i'm not the only one changing. sometimes i arrogantly believe that nobody but me (and close friends) are changing, complex, beings. and i guess i feel that my trajectory is special. but it's really not. because we're all spiraling, and this is good, because sometimes it means we can meet again, au hasard (randomly) and differently.

and today i have a date with a man whose name i don't even know. he's not from here either. he'll speak with a spanish accent. again, two strangers at a table. paris belongs to no-one.

percolate

i'm enjoying this moment. it consists of me sitting in a fold-out-couch bed in an apartment on the border of paris, just outside the 19eme. it's cold outside, temperature gauge at the window says 5 degrees, which is warmer than yesterday, and explains why most of the snow has melted. the heating is on. i just made a percolated coffee and i sip from a yellow mug. i eat white chocolate with whole hazelnuts. i woke at 5am, unable to get back to sleep, still jetlagged. i've chatted to people back home and we compared notes on where we're at. it's almost xmas. a playful argument with essy is imbued with film and book recommendations, which i can't keep track of. i don't record them, but i know he'll remind me again. or maybe we'll watch some of these films back in sydney. i can't believe he didn't like crime and punishment. jessie is sick in bed, i'm just in bed. and there's intimacy and familiarity in such conversations which are as comforting as this coffee. i've not had coffee since i arrived here. the bad coffee in toyko made me give it up. and now i'm tasting a new, yet familiar, flavour. just as i'm tasting snow for the first time, and this apartment, which is strange to me despite my clothes hanging from the curtain rail, shower, and drying rack by the heater. since i stopped chatting (or rather, typing) to the folk back home, i can hear the silence. and my fingers tapping keys sound similar to snow tapping rooftops. but there's no snow today, just a softer shade of cold. and there's me, alone (but not alone) in this apartment. and there's me moving to the kitchen shortly, to take another cup of coffee.

timeless, rainless

today the rain was gone. no umbrella necessary, though i packed one just in case. most of the time my jacket was in my hand. yet i bought another jacket, for france. it's green and water/snow proof. now i can conquer the world. it was pretty cheap too. i also picked up some warm socks. and a bunch of stationery etc - small things that will fit in my suitcase. and then i discovered the supermarket around the corner. just now i'm eating spinach with sesame paste, and some sweet potato thing. i'm sitting in the common area because the loud canadians went to bed. i suspect everyone in my room is scared of them, so we read or do stuff on our beds. the new french couple are skyping with someone in their room, probably unaware that the walls are paper thin and everyone can hear them. the quiet cute boy just reemerged and is on one of the common room PCs. we sit and type, back to back. still no words from him today but there's always tomorrow.

my phone died so i can't even use it as a clock. this means i never know the time. i check on my ipod intermittently. i did so tonight at Roppongi and freaked out that it was 11.30. i read something about the trains stopping at midnight so i scurried off to the train. only at the station did i realise that the ipod had reverted to sydney time. i knew i got quite distracted by the light show i happened upon, but yes, not that distracted. then i walked home from Ueno station and stopped by the supermarket for a can of Asahi for 198 yen. nice.

tokyo rain

it rained all day in tokyo. but it wasn't too heavy. it was, however, very cold. i almost bought a pair of gloves but they were average so i decided to hold out for mittens. the search continues tomorrow.

i'm lying atop a bunk bed which is my bed for these five days. people are chatting in the common area (canadians, i think) and i've opted for a quieter spot. especially after my day. not that i spoke to anyone. but i absorbed a lot. and i can't really give words to it because i'm still dizzy. and i'm wary of clichés about this city.

i feel dumb here, not being able to communicate. i smiled and nodded and muttered. at least in paris i can form words. and i can read signs.

i wish i brought my sound recorder. because tokyo for me is about sounds. the piped music on some streets, musical tones at train stations, traffic lights that chirp like birds, music from random trucks. then there's the jazz music where i had lunch, the mix of japanese and western pop where i had dinner. there's spruikers on microphones, clashing mayhem spilling from gamer venues, and the girly japanese pop coming from what i assume to be strip clubs.

then there's the silence on these streets. and also in trains. lots of people being quiet together, which i guess makes it a bit easier to be mute. i love that you're not allowed to speak on your phone on the trains. and better still, phones must be put on silent. i see people talking on phones in the street, but i never hear them ring. it's lovely.

there's a cute boy lying in the bed below me. a european, but he never speaks, so i can't tell where he's from. his awkwardness makes him more cute. today we showered in the same room, with a couple of curtains separating our naked bodies. maybe he will talk tomorrow.

tomorrow i'll search for a vegetarian restaurant. the internet says there are many, but i saw none. and i spent too much of the day smelling and seeing food that i can't eat, then searching for what i can. as food is my main source of comfort, this made me somewhat anxious.

itineraries and photocopiers

i have a lot to do. it's boring how much i have to do.

i printed out my flight bookings for the next 2 months. many, but most are local. so many making-the-flight panics to look forward to. mostly i look forward to the flight that lands me at Charles de Gaulle. it's not so far away now.

i just met the new boy at the photocopier. i spied him a couple of weeks ago. so pretty. and today he smiled and said "i don't think we've met". nice accent, beautiful smile, lovely skin tone, and he puts his warm hand in mine. i had a teenage moment of almost skipping down the hallway. too bad i'm about to leave.

back to work...

rolling with the punches

annual review is over. but still some work to do before being a 'satisfactory' student. i need a research question (oops, how did that one slip by?) and i need evidence that i'm applying this. it can be done.

the panel were lovely and made a point to highlight my achievement in continuing despite the difficult patch. they offered solutions to problems, and clear outsider perspectives to what's missing in the project. i was reminded that this doesn't have to be perfect, that this is a difficult task, that the main goal is to 'get the qualification'. i wrote down many points for consideration. but supervisors said nothing to raise my pen. they echoed already written concerns with brutality and gusto. but i've come to expect this now. and i wasn't as in awe as last time. though i did wait in hope that they would say something positive. and i waited...

but these punches i must roll with, as in, i must accept them graciously and use them to propel myself further into my project. but i can also use them to propel myself further away from becoming that type of academic. they are not my friends. with them, i can only ever be professional. i can't make jokes, i can't be scared, i can't lift my armour for them to scratch me. this is horrible, yes, but it's also useful. because i know i don't need them as entirely as i once thought i did. that is, i don't need their love. and maybe i can utilise their punishment for other means. it might make me work harder. it might also help me (projecting beyond this stage) develop an academic trajectory that navigates away from brutality. and to a practice not committed to performing a role, but a text. my writing is my project. the machine that gives me the paper on which to write is of minor importance.

maybe i'm stupid to think that academia is a supportive environment where research and ideas are shared goals through which we might relate to and support each other. maybe i'm stupid for neglecting to see the politics of job insecurity, career trajectories, time limitations, and other unrelenting pressures within the individualising, corporate, university machine. i'm not so stupid now. just a little slow, in my armour.

the pinch of time

today i'm feeling the pinch of time. i look over my shoulder to see a looming depreciation of days. i've one month of 'production' left for this year. i hate that it stresses me, i think it should not, and i turn away, rebel, and find refuge elsewhere. yesterday was a day off. i justified this (to myself) on account of working through the weekend. i spent the day with that boy.

(breakfast, sex, lunch, film, walk, gelato, dinner, goodbye) so many hours of us.

around the time the sky darkened i felt pinched again; aware of lost time. already, there is too little time. (use time better. manage it. you're making things impossible. grow up. you're gonna fail.) already, there is too little time. dates are allocated for meetings, conferences, papers, flights. i'm not approaching such events, rather, they're approaching me. everytime i turn around they're closer. statues of wolves like in that kid's game.

and i guess i feel i lack control as well, and so my failure is only a matter of time (catching me). but somewhere, in some moments, i see that it's bullshit and that time need not be a trap. and maybe i can start to use time to control my own process a little more. maybe i can try to deny myself of time spent worrying?

i often worry about the times where i'm distracted from the phd. but maybe the phd itself is the distraction. it certainly makes life less manageable. i mean, why am i now kind of seeing somebody? and why am i leaving the country? sans phd, i'm sure the answers would be more obvious to me.