Tuesday the 25th of March 2014
It’s that time of year again, to apply or not apply. I have found my ideal research position; it really is perfect for me. It is in fact so perfect for me that when I read through the details, I began to cry. It’s an AHRC-funded Collaborative Partnership Award with the University of Exeter and Tate: A History of Performance and Performative Art at Tate which begins in autumn of this year. Now, my contract here in Taiwan ends in November and I’ve booked eleven days off prior to my contract ending; whether or not I can leave before then is unknown to me. I would be throwing away a huge amount of money (the 18% tax on my monthly salary) if I was to terminate my contract early but there’s a part of me that knows it would be worth it to be able to work for Tate again.
I feel sick even thinking about it, my head hurts and my entire being feels sad that I ever left. I don’t regret coming to Taiwan and I’m supposed to be moving to Poland once my contract has ended so this PhD would interfere with more than my current position. I have until the 16th of next month to apply… It’s one minute, make that two minutes past midnight on Wednesday now and although I should probably start to make my way to bed, I think I’m going to stay awake a little later tonight and distract myself with cartoons and hot chocolate. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep, not like this, not with so much going on in my mind at the moment.
It is now three minutes past midnight. The mosquitos are out in full force now; I need to buy a new repellent plug cartridge as the one in my bathroom is practically empty. Five minutes past, my head hurts so much and the skin on my face has been blistering for about three days. Six minutes past, I had to share a classroom with cockroaches (a regular occurrence), mosquitos and a dragon fly today… I have never been as frightened as I was by a dragon fly the size of my hand flying towards my head. It looked positively prehistoric, perhaps even futuristic (a camera wielding drone); it just didn’t seem of this time, it didn’t make sense. It scared me. Nine minutes past, my manager told me I should update my blog with a post which included the words “a dragon fly made me cry”, so there it is. Also, I should probably point out that it didn’t actually make me cry. Eleven minutes past, a student told me that my hair wasn’t cute. I felt concerned by our differing perceptions of cuteness. She didn’t care.