So August was a nutty month. Actually, things started to get kind of nutty around July 31. July 31 marks the day that I woke up and realized that I just plain did not care about doing a PhD; indeed, I realized that I had never really wanted to do the PhD but had in fact only wanted to see if I could get into the program. Comforting as this realization sounds, I was suddenly sent into a downward spiral of awfulness. Guilt-ridden, what-am-I-gonna-do-with-my-life-now awfulness. See, A. and I had this lovely little plan for the next couple of years and he was more than holding up his end of the plan. If I left this program, I would be screwing with the plan. A sensible person would have not worried about this; life, afterall, rarely works when planned and the powers that be (unicorns) always fuck with you when you try to pretend as though your plans matter. Plus what the hell does A. care? As long as I’m happy and doing what I want to do, that’s what matters. A sensible person would have said something like that.
But someone who wakes up one morning and realizes that the thing she has been planning to do for the last six years isn’t actually the thing she wants to do is not a sensible person. Here’s how July 31 went:
5am: Wake up already dreading the day ahead. More political science. More environmental ethics. The desire to vomit grows.
6am: Still in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering why I never became a movie star. Movie stars don’t have to deal with political science. Where did I go wrong on the path to movie stardom?
7am: Still in bed. You know what I hate? Conferences. Boring as hell and I have no desire to listen to other people rant on about environmental ethics. And I really hate marking. And writing papers – good GOD I’m tired of writing papers about things I just don’t care about. And I’m really not looking forward to classes – a bunch of people pretending they know what Aristotle meant. Vomit.
8am: Still in bed and starting to worry. So…I don’t like any of the things that I’m going to have to do for the next 5 years at least. Well, that’s ok. I’ll just suffer through it…for, erm, five years. Yeah. I can totally do that. You know, people have suffered a lot worse. And maybe I’ll grow to like it.
9am-11am: Still in bed but have retreated to the foot of the bed under the covers. Oh dear god. I can’t do this for five more years. I really just can’t.
11am-1pm: Out of bed now but pacing. But if I don’t do this won’t I be letting everyone down? What about Dr. R who has worked so hard to help me get to this point? What about A.? Maybe A. only wanted to be with me because I was going to become Dr. Ezmy. Maybe he’ll leave me for another person who can figure out what the fuck she wants to do before she’s 30. Oh dear god, I’m going to be 30. I’m going to be 30 and working at TGI Fridays or something and I’ll never make anything of myself. What will I tell my children? Oh my god, I want children. How can we afford children if all I’m doing is wasting away as a coatcheck girl? That’s crazy pressure to put on A. what with the house and…oh my god I want a house! And they’ll never approve us for a mortgage if all I’m doing is raking leaves for people at $5 an hour, dragging my 15 kids after me. Yep, A. is going to leave me for sure. And everyone will point and say remember that Ezmy? She used to be going places.
Thankfully, at around 2pm I decided I needed reinforcements. So I called my younger and far more sensible sister, Lady Heather, who promptly informed me that I was an idiot and of course I shouldn’t do the PhD if I don’t really want to and of course everything would still be fine, just a different kind of fine. And of course A. would leave me, not because I wouldn’t be doing the PhD but because I’m clearly insane. Ha.
So that was July 31. On August 1, I emailed Dr. R to let her know I was not going to do the PhD. Then I ran away to Scotland with A. and his family for 10 days. Then I came home and went to my mum’s wedding. Then my sensible sister and her husband and kiddo visited with us for a bit. Then one of my favourite cousins, JLP came to visit. Then I turned 29. And for the last two weeks, A. and I have spent everyday sleeping in, watching tennis, and wandering around Ottawa. Bliss.
I’m not sure what’s going to happen now. I’ve got a few things in mind though. And unlike July 31, I’m kind of excited about the whole thing. Something will work out, I’m sure. In the meantime, here’s a new recipe that I tried this morning. Yummy!!
Banana Cream Pancakes with Raspberries:
1 1/3 cup flour
1 tbsp baking powder
pinch of sea salt
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1 tin coconut milk
1 large banana
1 tsp vanilla extract
+ raspberries and maple syrup
Blend the banana, coconut milk and vanilla until smooth. Mix up the dry ingredients (sure, you should probably sift the flour and baking powder together but I never remember to do that). Add the banana mixture and mix well. Get your frying pan out and lightly oil. Make pancakes (I’m assuming that you do not need me to get into details about how to actually make pancakes). Throw on half a cup of raspberries and heaps of maple syrup. Or perhaps whip up some vegan whip cream and use this with sliced bananas to make a truly decadent breakfast. I enjoyed my pancakes with raspberries and a cup of jet black coffee in my shiny new pumpkin shaped mug, a surprise that A. brought home one day because he’s the best. So happy to have him back home. :)