“Maybe I'm a dog. Maybe Γm a pig—but I wear a uniform. You'll never know my true identity. “ - Seno Gumira Ajidarma,
This is a documentation of my thoughts as I go through the PhD process
I still itch to check online to make sure that I am on track. This week I’m working on an old piece, getting feedback on a piece of writing that was 2 years ago, I fell into a timeslip of remembering, feeling and touching the materials I was engaging with then. Putting on an old snake skin that didn’t quite fit, struggling to find the me who was existing back then again. My hand landing on my phone to reach for the future of what-if and how-dos. Playing catch-up with reconciling writing and thinking with multiple versions of realities that butterflies outwards into a Steins Gate multitude of timelines.
I wear a badge of participating in academia’s highest pedigree, the PhD. Not so-as-much as a uniform, but a rite of passage towards the hallowed halls of academia.
In malaysia, academics are called academicians, a wizarding of knowledge - similar to magicians. I imagine brewing witchery of a composting knowledge archive, dripping in extracted lines, half-baked ideas, distracted moments of youtube scrolling and chasing IG / twitter-torians deadlines of a slew cloud-like conferences floating far away, up in the blue sky.
I just finished my first test field-work, and sat here, wondering what to do next. What do I write, distribute, circulate and share ideas, for who, for what platform etc. It’s an insane task as a young scholar to know what medium, what method of writing and where to publish / distribute certain pieces of work can benefit or build the collective knowledge and the larger aims to encourage shared dialogue, etc.
I sit here, itching to see how do I relate to another accross social media platforms, to see if I missed yet another open call, or to see the latest project to apply for, fellowships, residencies, etc.
just to ‘keep up’ and ‘keep busy.’