- THEY CALL ME MELLOW YELLOW MEANING UPDATE
- THEY CALL ME MELLOW YELLOW MEANING FULL
- THEY CALL ME MELLOW YELLOW MEANING PLUS
It was already reviewed once, and deemed of sufficient academic quality, but I was advised to make it “easier to read”. A whole new road ahead (yes, mellow yellow). Which is great, coz that will be my job description for my unpaid PhD candidate job for the next few years (just as well I got a day off from work). Today my supervisor wrote to me and said he really liked my research proposal. State-of-the-art papers don’t get graded, just pass or fail, and apparently I passed. And a final version added as a glossary to my thesis coz I decided to review three different theories and one cannot expect the examiners to be familiar with all of them. One on the topic that my supervisor (the loveable grump) suggested and I gave up on. Actually, I wrote three state-of-the-art papers. It was a frightening thing to do, coz once you handed it in, then what? Wait. I handed in my state-of-the art paper, my thesis and my research proposal. What else has happened? Well, yes, finally. And all it took (because I could have applied for it last year already) was to swallow my pride and admit that I am, well, not so young anymore, perhaps.
THEY CALL ME MELLOW YELLOW MEANING FULL
That gets me three full days a week for uninterrupted studying. So, I still have another 8 years to go, but on a 4-day work week. Is that not incredible? I suppose they will soon throw it out or delay it because the pension-age used to be at 65 but got extended, by nearly 2.5 years in my case.
THEY CALL ME MELLOW YELLOW MEANING PLUS
Officially, because as a civil servant I can trade in some of my holiday leave plus a tiny portion of my salary in what is called an PAS scheme (no one know what the letters stand for) to get one full day off every week. I have officially ended middle age and am now an old crony.
THEY CALL ME MELLOW YELLOW MEANING UPDATE
Let’s say I won’t be sending this update to as many subscribers as I did before.īut one momentous thing I must share with you. Some of them are a bit too personal to share here – you know, the sad stuff that happens to all of us eventually, and seems to happen a lot more frequently as we get older.
So, what has come to an end? Well, a couple of things. I even have a winding-down alarm reminding me I should be preparing to go to bed in 45 minutes. Stop studying by 22:00 and have a drink with Husband. Complete the home-delivered shopping by midnight on Wednesdays. Call Son to remind him of something or other at 9:00. Check the rising of the bread rolls in 10 minutes. So I find myself setting my phone alarm for the oddest things. Alas, some tasks will not wait for the next pigeon to fly out. But mostly, I stick to one task at the time, for multitasking is not a good idea if you want to do something well and you don’t have the time or the opportunity to re-do it. Well, admittedly there is that bit of working through my mail backlog whilst participating in some digital work conference that is beyond slow but I am supposed to listen to patiently (I am not allowed to peel potatoes secretly anymore coz it has my colleague in stitches with laughter). For the past couple of years I have forced myself to do one thing at the time, and one only. I went bit over the top with my pigeon holing. A more sensible person than myself might think it time for a holiday. Only just before I fall asleep the pigeons will fly out to where I cannot catch them, and I murmur about it to uncomprehending Husband before my power supply goes dark. Occasionally my human mind will seize control, but nothing that cannot be crowded out by listing to a favourite audio book (yes, Scandinavian noir). It is a simple process: just fit every task, every emotion, every thought, into its own little pigeon hole and set the alarm for when it must opened. I think these years I must have reached my very own Olympic peak in “compartmentalising” – the little trick I taught myself when I was very young, to separate out the things that needed living through in time, space and attention. You know that feeling, when you just keep going, that feeling of plodding on, through imaginary wind and snow and rain, until yesterday and tomorrow blur into each other?
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