I used to think I had pretty strong time management skills. I worked two jobs whilst doing my Masters last year. And, despite 20 hours a week being signed straight over to part-time graft, I still finished the course on time, and left with the grade I wanted.
I don't know what the hell happens when you start a PhD. It's like everything you once took for granted and just did isn't enough any more. Life literally runs away from you.
Seriously, prior to this year the words 'time management' as I understood them, broadly referred to sticking your head down and getting things done. I didn't really think through the hows and whys of it. I just did it.
That was all well and good when we were dealing with monthly assignments of no longer than 3000 words a piece. Now that we're grappling with what feels like to me- the brutally naive, permanently terrified and (probably) over-dramatic first year that I am- an infinite, sprawling and continuously amalgamating jelly like mass of work that is my research project.
You don't know it's happening until it's too late. You tell yourself it's all going to be ok. Then it hits you. Like a sledgehammer to the jaw. There's so much to do and you thought you would just do it and that it would all be fine but now your drowning under a sea of deadlines, 'to do' lists and general expectation...
Jeez. Doing a PhD forces you to be a responsible, organised and rational human being.
It makes you buy a diary.
It makes you write lists.
It makes you willingly Google the words 'Personal Development Plan'.
I've changed.
Kath
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