I didn’t even have to do a dance-off.
This poem was first presented at the Hallowe’en Ruckus Slam at The Zoo in October 2021. If you’re ever near Brisbane, Australia, check out Ruckus – they do great poetry slams and cabaret slams (which is like a poetry slam but it’s across all performing genres).
Things they don’t tell you about doing a PhD
1. You won’t have time to write poetry, the way you used to. So you’ll lean on the old reliable format and write a list poem. You’ll wonder if you should apologise. Choose not to.
Do not spurn the old ways. Let them guide you through troubled waters, when you need them most.
2. You will have time to water your plants.
The extended periods you spend at home, thinking and reading articles and puzzling over how best to phrase an email to your supervisor, will be perfectly punctuated by protecting and preening your pristine plethora of pots full of greenery.
Unless you’re having a crunch moment, and your plants nearly die and your sister tells your mum to come pick them up for a stint at her place, aka the Plant Hospital.
3. You will think that writing a hundred thousand words worth of thesis is hard.
You are not wrong, but it’s nowhere near as hard as cold emailing experts in your field for “networking purposes”.
4. Your friends will invite you out drinking, and you won’t want to go. But darling, you need to rest.
Let them wash away the accumulated silt of paragraph structure and epistemological assumptions and referencing style.
Rinse it free with beer and good conversation. You will need this most when you least want to do it.
Do not spurn the old ways. Let them guide you through troubled waters, when you need them most.
5. Use referencing software.
6. Find a chair that helps you sit straight, raise your laptop to eye level and use a real keyboard, you hunchback. This journey will take you between 3 and 8 years. Get comfortable.
7. You will find your voice. You will be somewhere unimportant and mundane, and quite unexpectedly, you will realise that the contribution you have to make in this room is valuable, and you will be the only person in the room with the expertise to know it.
In this moment, you will not be afraid of being wrong.
This will not be a rollercoaster high, the thrill of adrenaline after a hectic rush; this will feel like closing your wings and resting after a long flight. Tired, and settled, and home. Enjoy it.
This feeling will be more pronounced if you were raised female, and were never taught in youth that your voice could matter to anyone.
8 and last. You will lose touch with people you love.
They won’t go away, but you might not see them for a while.
As you venture into the expanse, this ocean of knowledge, you will get lost. The waves will get choppy, the horizon will darken and you won’t be able to see past the storm ahead. When this happens, you will panic. You will realise this was too much, this sea you’ve chosen to cross too wide. When this happens to you, as it is happening to me, wait. Wait until night falls. Let the sea spray blow and sting your eyes. Let the waves roll and churn your stomach. Let the vastness of the black make you feel unbelievably, unbearably, inevitably alone.
Then look up.
The darkness will help you see the stars. You know the way home, and you know who can help you get there. You won’t want to lean on anyone, you strong and clever creature. But do not spurn the old ways. Let them guide you through troubled waters, when you need them most.
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