I have been going bush. Kind of.

I am going cross-eyed, having done so much writing over the past few days.

Even though my research ticks over on its own, there’s always so much other related stuff to do. Networking networking networking; writing a million emails, planning, organising budgets, thinking, analysing, writing, conceptualising, dreaming…

Still, deep down, I am loving this business of working toward being a doctor. Over the past few days I have been having awesome korero with like-minded people; we share ideas, watch them grow and let them manifest our amazing dreams. Once this month is over, I will dedicate the whole of March to writing and only writing… actually, in order to write academentia, I need to do a hella lot of reading too.

Even though I have been getting a lot done and I am excited about the next few months to come, I am nervous, because to be honest, lately I have been feeling stink. I don’t know why even? But then perhaps, deep down, I totally do.

It’s my body memory of impoverishment.

The past few months, the past year, everything I have been doing… life has been full-on, but especially of late. I feel like I am on spin-cycle, no prewash setting suns lately are prettier than anything I can remember. Thinking thinking thinking, planning planning planning, and now time to start writing writing writing writing.

The first draft of my thesis is writing itself, I have between 30,000 and 40,000 words so far, which is good because I think I have to write 40,000 words in total. My strategy is to write a creative text, in first person, and then over the next three years slowly morph it into a hybrid academic text.

But that’s just my thesis, because as well as writing my thesis I am writing a lot of academic papers too. With my research I am exploring responsive, subjective and emotive forms of text as data collection methods. It’s all very pie in the sky, but I pretty much write abstracts for academic conferences and then when they get accepted, present my research to academic audiences in performance art mode.

I am trying to disrupt and reformulate knowledge hierarchies. So far, I am having a lot of fun doing it too. I think academics get so used to the drone of data, that they are inspired by having information presented in new ways. Especially when it is all praxis. Art is the shit! So yah, today I have been working it out, organising a budget for three conferences I am presenting at in April, in California, Florida and Peru.

Shit niggah!!!

I cannot believe I am going to Peru. I am going to try and go to Maccu Picchu while I am there, to spend time with ancestors.

I have been thinking a lot lately about addictions. Since being back in Aotearoa, and now being here in Australia I have been smoking cigarettes. I hate them but I have not been able to just say no my god. I had most definitely been a stoner when I was back in Piha, but since I don’t know anyone who smokes pot here in the GC, I’m drug free, which is all cool cos stoned or not stoned I am always a complete tripper. Actually, even though I have been feeling stink and then not so stink; it’s like being on a dodgem lately, I feel like being embodied in a depressive kind of way, has provided me with good days to manage the behaviours that feeling stink has manifested. I don’t mind my addictions at the moment, they’re not really that bad and I feel like I need them to keep me in my body cos lately I am all brains.

I suppose in many ways I have been stressed about the future. I can see it right there, right there in the beautiful distance, shiny and golden, a million orbs of blue and green light, but I am not quite there yet. I still have a lot of work to do.

Urgh, I feel like I have been working, walking, running, leaping and flying into the place I am nearly at forever. I just want to be there finally. But yah, I have to keep reminding myself that it’s not the destination that is important… but the journey.

I love to journey.

I miss living right by the sea. It’s too hot in the GC at this time of year. I don’t think I could live here permanently, although my big sis keeps trying to convince me to stay.

I feel like I am supposed to be somewhere else, and so I keep working my way to that ephemeral space. At night as the sticky molten heat of the darkness tints my body with sweat, I pretend I am listening to the caress of waves, they wave me goodbye every night to sleep, to a slumber filled with dreams of faraway places, filled with men in short shorts with muscular biceps. Colours music and chilling, that’s what I have to keep telling myself, every day, because I don’t want to be devoured by a corporate burger sponsor form of governance. My mantra today and tomorrow is “dream alive”, so that I can unplug from the world of deficit days and nights.

Lately I have reconnecting my body to my mind, my body-mind, inside and out.

Even though life has been feeling impoverished and self-depreciating, I have been using my art-life to reprogram negative messages that might have actually been there for the whole of my life; internalised forms of history, waiting to pounce upon me when I feel in desperate need.

Yes, I am training my body to feel happy, so that I can unplug and tune in.

Grin as I end these habitual fears.