On Poos, PhDs and Politeness

February 7, 2012

Seriously wordpress? Stop moving things about. Don’t you know some of us have ADHD? Sort it out.

That said, it’s been a few weeks since I blogged regularly. I don’t like the interruption of regularity. Blogging, like moving one’s bowels, should be a business of regularity and routine. Otherwise I find everything gets all backed up, I spend the intervening time grumpy and bloated, and what finally emerges is either a small, mean, wizened offering, or else an unstoppable rush of, well….the metaphor speaks for itself, surely.

I also find that without the regularity of what we might call (for these purposes), the ‘brain dump,’ I have little appetite for new thoughts, and so the whole gastrointestinal tract of thought (what? people totally say gastrointestinal tract of thought, no?) grinds to a halt. Indeed I haven’t had one new or interesting thought since New Year, as evidenced by this scatalogically themed post.

You know what though? I’ve been dead busy, Internet. Really, truly, actually busy. You know that new job I started back in November? They work me hard. They seem to think I am quite competent, but do you know how many hours of covering my mistakes and waving my hands either side of my ears in panic it takes to cultivate that impression, Internet? Many hours. Many many hours.

It’s not just the job either. I have been writing my PhD. I’m just going to go ahead and say that once again because the novelty of productivity has by no means yet worn off. I have been writing my PhD. It is getting written and I am the one writing it (just to be clear, no one else is writing it. It represents entirely my own endeavours etc etc).

Other things I have been doing aside from the above:

1) Planning the bloody deaths of all those who ask ‘Is the thesis done yet?’ ‘Have you finished now?’ or variations on that theme.

2) Obsessing about the following note written by one of my downstairs neighbours (she has a seperate entrance and post box and I’ve never met her):

‘Please bring down the weekly Grazia magazine when it is delivered upstairs by mistake. Thank you.’

That’s it! No name or anything! I mean, all the necessary ingriedients of a polite note are there (mainly the pleases and thank yous) but it still reads more like an order than a request. Or an order that’s supposed to sound like a request. Such as,

‘Please use the sanitary bins provided. Thank you.’

‘Please do not park on this driveway. Thank you.’

Or, I dunno,

‘Please come up and get your cocking weekly Grazia magazine when it is delivered upstairs by mistake. Thank you.’

I think I might find therapy to be greatly beneficial. Until then dear Internet, I have you. πŸ™‚


8 Responses to “On Poos, PhDs and Politeness”

  1. louise said

    This sounds quite cathartic! Hope the gastrointestinal tract of thought improves πŸ™‚

    • Thanks Louise. How’re you? Looks like you’re steaming ahead with your thesis!

      • louise said

        All’s going okay, thanks πŸ™‚ The thesis is actually going more slowly than it might seem! How is your PhD going? Are you working full/part time?

      • You were up early this morning! I have just given my intention to submit so hoping to be done by end of April. After a long stall it seems to be finally coming together. I’ve worked part time since just before my funding finished. 3 days per week should still leave 4days per week for the phd but it never seems to work out that way, sadly.

      • louise said

        Haha, I know that some people can work/study till 10 at night, but I prefer to work earlier and get it over with πŸ™‚
        Wow, that’s really impressive! With the end in sight, I’m sure it will work out πŸ™‚

  2. stillstrange said

    Is there a bin by the mailboxes or a lobby of sorts downstairs? Perhaps if you receive the magazine by mistake you can just put it somehwere in public view. Whomever left the note may have left it for/to numerous people which is why there was no name.

    • Heya you. I’ll take the magazine down, I just think she should have asked nicely. They have a different front entrance to the building. I get them not addressing it to someone as they were leaving the note for three flats but they could have signed it. I’m sure I’m overthinking this but whoever she is she’s totally off my Christmas card list. Harrumph.

  3. Narnie said

    Neighbours are funny things aren’t they? Mine to the right barely speak to me, smile in a wonky way everytime we happen to go to our cars at the same time and occasionally sidle up to me to ‘just mention’ something about the paint flaking on my house, or my plant looking the worse for wear or my bin being too full. But then over Christmas they kept knocking on my door with tins of biscuits. Great big Marks and Spencer tins of biscuits. I’m confused. It’s like those people who don’t like cats but the cat chooses them purposefully as the only comfortable lap. I hope you read the Grazia magazine first. Maybe circle some favourite articles in read with some notes to the side.

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