"I mustn't run away."- Shinji Ikari
Sitting in the Monash Uni Postgraduate Room, working away on my thesis, it feels like my head has turned to lead and my fingers to stone. I say to myself that "I could walk away now - there's no shame in it. I could take the Grad Dip and walk away." But I ponder that point for a minute. This is me, making excuses. Excusing myself for something I didn't find immediately easy and thus put into the "too hard basket." But then I reduce it back to its origin: I chose this. This half year has been one of ashes. Ashes falling from the sky on to the ground wherever I walk. Some bright spots sure, but it's taken me to the absolute limit. I fly into a thrashing rage at the slightest provocation. I drag myself out of bed and look at myself in the mirror and find sunken black rings around my eyes. I feel irritable just lying in bed and just the other day, I broke my shoe after roundhouse kicking a punching bag. I'm full of frustration at the moment.
Writing about habitus, rock 'n' roll and media ecology isn't physically taxing. But after day - even half a day - at the library, I feel like collapsing into a heap. If I take an hour off to myself, it feels like I'm cheating. If I look for and/or attend jobs to keep some sort of income up now that I have no government support, I feel like I've sacrificed my studies. Then when I see my bank account roll into negatives, I curse my studies and wondered why I even bothered starting.
Is any of this true? At this juncture, my synapses are so overloaded it makes rational thought almost impossible. I try to read Ellis and the Stoics each day, but new obstacles fall into my hands and I struggle to keep upright. I guess it could be worse. I feel grateful that it actually isn't. But then I challenge my reactions - is this all just perception, and how can I change it?
All I can say is that I will finish; its important to me to finish and with that determination, I will push forward and hopefully make the latter half of 2011 far more enjoyable than the first.