the joy of quitting

i'm on the verge of quitting the phd. well, 'suspending' it indefinitely. quitting comes later perhaps.

i've had some nice times over the last few days, forgetting the looming phd cloud. but it always returns and brings feelings of guilt (for not working) and failure (for not being able to do this). it's the abusive partner that i can't shake, because some days, when i look at her, i think 'she's not so bad. we could make this work. it's me, not her. i need to work harder on this...'

yesterday i learnt to knit. last night (whilst knitting) jessie and i spoke about playing tennis today. the smiths were in the background. at that moment i considered a life of knitting, playing tennis, and listening to the smiths. a perfect life. a fantasy, but maybe it's possible. and maybe it comes back to my happiness and ways to find it once again.

though i'm not always unhappy. as mentioned, i sometimes forget my thesis and then i can be happy. i can even meet someone (as i did last week) with whom to start something (not yet sure what that thing is). but when the cloud re-emerges, so does my paralysis, of not knowing what to do.

everyone tells me to keep going, to not give up, to persist. why is nobody telling me their stories of quitting and it being the best thing ever? because surely i'd be happier. and surely that's more important than this. but 'this' has come to represent my future career prospects, my entry into academia, a place where many of these other people reside. many advisers are also doing their phds, so maybe their 'don't quit' advice is tinged by their own desire to keep going, and their thinking that quitting cannot be an option. but it is, for me. it's a very real option, and i feel its joyous pinch. and i think about the novels i can read, the writing i can do, the relaxation that might become available to me. i think of working for money (not love - ie. proving myself as a potential researcher/academic). i think of weekends that are really weekends. all this is immense and wonderful. i think of reading kristeva, foucault, irigaray, lyotard, etc, because i want to lose myself in the rhythm of their words, not because i need to know them, pilfer what i can, and prove myself.