Doing a PhD is usually seen as a good thing. But sometimes it can cause perceived or actual tension for yourself or others. Recently, this happened to me and it served as a great reminder that often (as with most things in life), things are not always what they seem and that everything is always-already with(in) a twist. Here’s what happened in 100 words. Enjoy, NG.
Well-meaning advice for my first-time BBQ: ‘Maybe don’t mention your PhD’. Gloomy backyard introductions and I only remember Mouse and Skipper. I stand awkwardly. Drinking. Tattoos pour down legs and arms, scraggly beer strained beards and black heavy metal T-shirts. Smoking. My trendy hat feels too tight. Disappearings. A huge brown mastiff watches half-naked kids fight. Reappearings. I make a joke that falls flat. Eating. Jonno tells me his secret fishing spots. Teasing. Raucous stories of youthful antics. Laughing. On departure: sweaty hugs and a take-home food pack. Over the balcony, Big Dan yells ‘Best of luck with ya research!’