I submitted an image to the OCASA calendar call for entries. I wasn’t selected but here’s the image if you’d like a laugh.

source: ocasa.org.uk/post/presenting-the-ocasa-2022-edi-calendar

It’s my birthday, and it has taken me what feels like a long time to write this blog post. The main reason is that this will push Dad off the front page of my blog. Of course I can do things to change that; pin posts, delete posts, edit the layout… blah blah blah. However, I want to stick to my current style for the time being.

This month I started back at the Graduate College and it has been a great experience. Not without challenges, though. My biggest concern in the first few weeks was my data processing speed. It was so much slower than I predicted. I was given a task to do and I genuinely thought it would take three days. but at the rate I am going it’ll be three weeks.

I knew I’d be rusty. But I did not expect to be beating myself up over my performance. Especially as my progress was not as fast as I hoped it would be. I predicted a 10% increase in speed everyday as I became more familiar with the database. But I am struggling to focus and/or retain information.

One of the better sides of my new job is that I think it’ll get me more acquainted with the different elements of being a research student. So who knows what the future will hold?

It’s St Nicholas Day (well, a St Nicholas Day) and I’m about to hop on to a train to spend a week in Yorkshire visiting family. Then I’m going to Dorset.

After that I’m returning to Kent and – to celebrate – I bought myself new bedding from Skinnydip.

Following that I have a job interview in the Graduate College, and I’ve picked up some freelance writing too.

I’m still not feeling 100% but I feel positive (which, honestly, is good enough for me).

I reapplied for the job role I left in May ’19 last weekend, and was not shortlisted. I was surprised because I felt I met the criteria but then I remembered my exit interview and my experience in another job interview in January ’20. I figured I had burnt my bridges.

Weirdly I was thinking of this role yesterday when my father’s friend was talking about the past. He mentioned that sometimes people go back to places they knew before, but they are drawn to a memory – and the reality is different. Places change. And people too. I am glad I spoke to my father’s friend as I don’t think I would’ve coped with the rejection otherwise.

Instead I redyed my hair, did some more decorating, ran some errands, and got invited to another job interview in an even better place (unexpectedly!).

I spoke to my father’s friend earlier today. I phoned him because I wasn’t sure if he picked up an order of service at the funeral and I wanted to send him one in the post. He asked me how I’m getting on at work. I told him I left my library job because I was unwell, he said Your Dad was afraid of this. And the tears came again.

Every now and again something sets me off. And I’m not talking about a silent dignified cry – I’m talking snot rockets and wailing.

I’ve started taking photographs, and in a couple of months I’m returning to OCA. I feel a bit weird about photographing this time. Grief seems like something inappropriate to document. But then, this time feels poignant… worth preserving. Is it morbid? Callous? I feel a drive to create meaning from this time, and pain. Something to hold on to. Or rather, something to hold on to me.