Welsh in the Workplace (For BBC Cymru)

This piece was originally written for BBC Cymu's blog, and translated into Welsh. The orginal can be found here: 

In just over eight years back in Wales, I’ve been in one workplace that offered Welsh lessons to employees. And my most recent workplace, which is now requiring Welsh as an ‘Essential’ category on most of it’s new appointments, got rid of Welsh lessons several years ago. As a Welsh learner, I fully support integrating Welsh into the workplace more and in so doing, integrating the language fully into our society. However, employers need to support this, with support for employees to learn and the Welsh Assembly needs to start putting real effort behind Welsh for adults. Otherwise Wales will start losing much of it’s talent, and many who were denied Welsh as a child like myself, will be forced to once again leave their homeland due to a lack of work.

I have much to offer the workplace- an array of qualifications- - BA, MA and a PhD. Nearly 8 years of professional experience including four as a qualified teacher.  I have transferable skills, I have a great deal of varied experience. What I don’t have, is fluency in the Welsh Language. What I do have is a willingness to learn, but a lack of opportunity to do so. And as a result, I find even entry-level jobs in increasingly closed to me. And to my mind, this represents a closed-mindedness of those driving the Welsh language. Are we willing to shut out knowledge, experience and skills just for a lack of support in learning the language? Are we really saying to graduates we don’t want them to stay when they haven’t had time or opportunity to learn the language yet?

Some Welsh speakers are dismissive of this call for support saying we should ‘just learn it’, and yes, the willing must be there, but so must the opportunity.  To be perfectly blunt learning Welsh costs, in both time and money. Yes, there are apps or online tutorials where you can teach basics, and these are great-my conversational Welsh has been greatly improved with them. But if we’re talking ‘business Welsh’ the kind where you can confidently do your employers business in the language- that takes time and professional tuition and qualifications to mean anything.  And professional tuition and qualifications cost money, and take time. So, it becomes a chicken and egg: shut out of jobs in Wales due to a lack of Welsh, but needing the let’s put it bluntly, salary that comes with jobs, that would allow you to pay for it. Beyond this though, what we need is support from employers to invest in those willing to learn the language.

What all this also betrays is a wider need for a sea change in terms of Welsh-speaking culture. Right now, the workplace Welsh issues are a microcosm of a minority who see Welsh language development as ‘keeping out’ non-Welsh speakers, rather than bringing them in. What we need is more people brought into the Welsh speaking ‘world’ rather than simply keeping anyone out who doesn’t speak the language.  And for the generations that the education system failed, the workplace is the way to integrate Welsh back into our lives.

And although I am crying out for not slamming doors in the face of non-speakers or learners, what I’d also like to see is a parity of skill required across all levels. All too often I look at job adverts for places where entry level and middle management are ‘Welsh Essential’ but a quick look at the senior management team betrays the other dirty secret- such demands fall short of the upper levels. If we’re demanding fluency in Welsh from our graduates, our bottom rung administrators and everyone in between, then we should also be demanding it of our Chief Executives. Might I suggest that if we did, Welsh lessons and Welsh language support might suddenly become more readily available in the workplace? 

An update, and ask for help

I'm not sure how much life this academic blog has left in it, mainly because I find myself hurtling ever further from academic life. But until I figure out what to do with it, here it continues.

Firstly by manner of update, I'm using another blog to track, share and generally use to shout 'Fuck you I'm a Prophet' in various languages from is  here.

And so to life. I had a great summer, Angels in America was on stage, it was glorious and wonderful and I got my passion back for a thing I thought I'd lost. You can find some words on that here .

I finished the job I was in. Somewhat earlier than anticipated, given I thought I had a job until the end of the year. And so I'd be riding a wave of steady, if not fulfilling employment to do other things- to enjoy the Angels ride, to keep plugging away at writing, at contacts, at generally running a 'career' alongside a job. It was good, it was useful and I feel like I made baby steps. When I knew the job was finishing, I made a promise to myself not to panic and take any old job that came along. Sick of bouncing from one job to another, and wary of tying myself to another job for a period of time considered 'reasonable' before quitting, I was cautious.

Alongside this I decided to give myself a month, a month to explore options, to have meetings, and to work on various writing projects that needed attention. Not least the book of the PhD that's been hanging over me and seemed timely now. An update on that is here. And in many ways it has been a useful month. Nothing ever changes overnight and I've poked and prodded and plugged away at things. But of course, nothing ever changes overnight. And now as month one rolls into month two I'm faced with a 'what now?' once again.

In the short term 'what now' has to be some kind of employment. And though I know it's only 'for now' the admin job once again or the Christmas retail job, or at worst temping. I'm kind of sick of 'for now'. Because 'For Now' seems to be something of a permanent state. And I'm tired. This month again also brought up the eternal 'to move or not to move' question, the fear of having to move back to London and the fear of all that entails. The wonder if in staying put I'm trading a comfortable life for a fulfilling career. And knowing deep down that I'll never have the kind of job I want if I stay.

It did take a lot of nerve to give myself a month, and in that month not jump at every or any job that 'would do'. I know in my heart that giving space to some writing, giving a chance to see if some contacts or opportunities bear fruit is worth doing. But it's been hard. Harder still to plow forward with either a retail job or another admin job or temp job. But I'm holding my nerve- I though I had a job until the end of the year, and I would have stayed given the chance. So I'll hold my nerve until then, as long as I manage enough income to get by.

And what then? I know I don't want an 'office' job in the traditional sense. I've tried and I've tried and I just don't fit with it. And breaking free of academia is one thing, selling yourself to others is another.

So I'm here, asking for help from anyone who reads this. Please help me figure out these next steps. I will repay in karma, cupcakes or anything else I can do for you.

Things I can do, and would like advice on making a part of my job:

1. Teaching. Better with adults than kids but damn good in general. 
2. Research. 
3. Writing. 

In theatre I'm a writer and dramatrug but I'm also great at facilitating and education work. But given my detour into academia I have a hard time 'selling' that to job descriptions that want specific experience in a specific role for a number of years. 

Add to that the freelance nature of the industry and the point at which you gamble or give up on that. 

Anyone out there got any advice on using writing, research, dramaturgy and teaching in the arts, yell. Or using those elsewhere.

Hand on heart all I'd really love to do is be a freelance writer. All I've ever wanted is to write. And my academic career was a (albeit misguided) attempt to have that. And so I throw out into the Universe, can anyone help me with the following:

• Publishers for my research.
• Freelance writing advice (articles, copywriting etc)
• Ghostwriting 
• Advice on jobs where writing is a part of/transferable skill. 

Or finally,  if you were tossing it all in, thinking screw it all, what would you do next? because in all honesty I'm about 2 more knock backs from that point too. There's only so much a person can take, only so many times you can get back up. I'm up for now but not for much longer. 

Getting back on an academic horse (sort of)

Yesterday I attended a Symposium on Theatre and Fandom at Bristol University. Generally and academic blog worthy post anyway this was particularly significant as it was the first academic event I'd gone to in over a year.

At first more by default than design, as I found myself out of academic or even alt-ac employment and well, frankly conferences are expensive things and involve taking time out of your job to do. I didn't consciously stop going, I just stopped looking for opportunities to go. But also given that I've now failed as an academic the longer I went without the more pointless it seemed to go.

I hadn't consciously thought of it but my last conference was also an unpleasant experience. I feel terrible saying so as I know one of the organisers who is a lovely person. And it's far from their fault. But that last conference was the kind where I began by getting lost trying to find the venue (for over an hour) and found myself laughed at for it  (I'm dyslexic can't read maps for shit, have zero sense of direction get lost really easily). Then the keynote speaker proceeded to talk about how much they hated the two texts I was talking about, much to the agreement of much of the audience. On delivering my paper a co-panelist said he recognised me from somewhere...turned out that somewhere was the last time we were at a conference together and he proceeded to mansplain my entire PhD to me by way of a 'question'. So yeah barrel of laughs that one was.

In the proceeding 18 months or so I've felt less and less welcome in the academic community. I'll be completely honest, I spent the Saturday before sat crying at the dining room table instead of actually writing my talk. Not only did I have nothing to say it all seemed so pointless. Because really what's the point of going to an academic event if you're never going to be an academic? and if that community has made it quite clear you're not welcome? I spent much of the week before worrying about this, and wishing I'd never agreed. In my ongoing commitment to being honest about these things I did air these on Twitter because rather than being 'unprofessional' (and I'm not sure you can be unprofessional when not allowed IN the profession but anyway) we have a duty to no longer gloss over the difficult aspects of academia and pretend all is well. On talking to Kirsty Sedgeman the event organiser and long time online friend, I was reassured I had support from within and decided to go (telling myself I could run away at lunchtime if I needed to).

I got lucky in finding a familiar face on the train as well, which meant I didn't have to walk in alone (or indeed try and find the venue alone again!). And the way the event was organised was definatly a blessing- 10 minutes to talk for each person, no direct questions- which meant no fear of being the person in a panel that attracts someone's personal vendetta. This approach (event organisers take note) really seemed to foster a more collaborative way of working. In the breaks people could seek out the speakers they enjoyed or had questions for and approach them in a less intimidating setting (and should said speakers have been uncomfortable they could easily make a 'I'm just nipping to the loo' type excuse to extract themselves). The discussion part of the day took place (in typical theatre people style) sat in a circle and was open to all. While on one hand it did mean some people dominated the discussion at points, it also meant nobody was put on the spot, and those who didn't wish to speak could simply listen (or tweet!).

Also really important was the inclusion of those who couldn't make it to the day, for whom Kirsty read out small descriptions of work, or ideas they wished to share. This was a great opportunity for people to be included, and engage even if they couldn't make it. A lot of attendees also live-tweeted the event which helped both those not at the event, the mildly interested Twitter passer-by and anyone else to engage. Live-tweeting is also a godsend for an introvert conference attendee- it's a low-stakes way to 'meet' fellow participants and a great conversation opener 'Hey we've been tweeting each other' or 'I liked what you shared about x' 'Oh you know y on twitter too' etc. It's also for me a great form of note-taking as it really condenses highlights of a talk while also letting you link to other things/speakers.

So all in all it was a great way to dip my toe back in the academic water. It was also, after a year of under-employment and feeling like 9-5 my brain is growing dimmer by the day, a great chance to actually use my brain. And I really did get reminded of why I do love (some) aspects of academia. I have a curious mind, and a desire to use it and a certain amount of skill at it. I realised I'm no worse than most of the people in that room in terms of ability, just that in my current situation I don't have capacity to be as engaged a researcher.

Did I have a road to Damascus moment of conversation back to Academia? no. Did I slightly re-consider my 'completly done' approach to it? yes. Am I suddenly convinced all academics are wonderful human beings? No academics are aresholes because people are arseholes (and the profession does attract a higher proportion than normal of self-important wankers). But I was reminded of how interesting and supportive a group of people academia can also attract. More importantly I feel now slightly more confident in returning to other events or putting my work out there in the future.

So where am I now? Still a failed academic. Still struggling with what to do next. Still unemployed in (checks watch) 7 weeks. Not much different to Thursday. But being in a room with academics no longer makes me want to cry (mostly) and I've remembered that I have a brain that's filled with sometimes useful knowlege. More importantly it's a brain that enjoys being used. And I've remembered that love I had for something.

I'll write a seperate blog about the subject I spoke on (Rent the musical and growing up Renthead) but the most important thing for me is probably another reminder, another nudge that I do love the work I did- it's what got me through to the end of the PhD. And it's probably what will get me through this next stage. Whatever that might be.

Do you get paid for that? and other stupid questions

This is going to be a short post because...well I don't get paid for this.

COULD be the attitude I take if I only ever did things for the money. Of course if I only did things for the money I'd just turn up to my job and not much else. I'd never have studied much, had many hobbies, done anyone a favour.

Reccently I've been busy with a number of things outside my 'Day Job' and when I retrun, or when I mention to friends or relatives what I've been 'busy' with I inevitably get asked:

"Do you get paid for that."

A couple of times I've for example, been quite excited to get readings of my plays done, and performed. Instead of just being either supportive or even impressed (hey I've got a writer's ego would it KILL someone to be impressed for once?) I get asked:

"Do you get money for that?"

Well, no. And at this stage I'm just grateful nobody is charging me for the hours of their life they won't get back reherasing them or listening to them.

Or, I'll talk about reviewing a play. Same thing:

"Do you get paid for that?"

Or writing an academic piece for a book:

"Do you get paid for that?"

Or attending a conference:

"Do you get paid for that?"

Firstly it's kind of insulting. The idea that the thing only has value if there's a transaction of money involved. There's also this unspoken idea that 'well it can't be any good then' if you aren't paid for it. Or that somehow you're a fool for doing it.

Now on one hand I'm a huge advocate for getting paid for work. I loathe that the arts and academia are two particularly explotiative areas of work. But there are levels at which I'm happy to give my time for free. To the small theatre companies who wouldn't get by without volunteers helping out. Sure, have whatever time I can give. To the theatre that receives millions in Arts Council money and charges £60 a ticket, but recently switched it's front of house staff to volunteers: No you do not deserve these people's time for free. In terms of academia I have more of an issue. Because the unpaid labour is not divided equally. There are those in permenant jobs for whom the unpaid labour of writing articles, attending conferences etc is 'covered' by their wage. I know (before they scream at me) that academics go above and beyond. BUT in a full academic post, research is part of the job role. For those not employed in academia it's an additional element on top of a full time (and the rest) week. It's complicated. All of it. We should all be able to be at least not out of pocket for our work. But also we shouldn't have our work reduced to a simple hourly rate.

The thing that really irks me is this: why is my work only valued in terms of monetary gain?

It is incredibly reductive to me to view a person's creative, or even academic work is such reductive terms as how much money they make from it. I didn't start reviewing shows to make money. I started to help me keep developing my understanding and engagement with an art form I love. I didn't do a PhD because I thought 'hey this will make me rich' I did it because I wanted to continue to learn. And for the love of my subject. And because I had something to contribute. I write plays because I have something to say. Even if that something is just a terrible joke about Danny Dyer.

I write plays in the same way I wrote fanfic as a teenager: because I love to write and I enjoy it. Perhaps next time a colleauge or a friend or whoever asks why I do something if I don't get paid I should answer "The same reason I made Mulder and Scully screw on the photocopier when I was 15, because it's fun" (this obviously I entierly made up for this purpose. Obviously. Cough).

I can count the times on one hand someone has followed up my answer of 'A play reading' or 'a book chapter' etc with 'Oh what's it about then?' or similar instead of  'Do you get paid for that?' and isn't that sad? Obviously within my arty/academic circles people ask. But in the more casual aquaintance world, pay is the tip of everyone's tongue. Isn't that sad? that people can't see beyond the financial transaction. And the answer to the pay question is boring. The asnwer to what it's about is far more interesting.

Example from my last play reading:

Did you get paid?
No.

End of conversation.

Oh really, what's it about?
Time travel, and AIDS. And there's a really filthy joke about Paul Hollywood.

I know what conversation I'd prefer to be having.


The point as well being, we're terribly British about money in other ways. Most of us would never ask a colleauge what the make for example. Then why is it ok to outright ask how much my 'creative' work is worth? and why is that worth only financial.

To take a different approach. I did some teaching this year, that was paid actually. Out of that teaching 3 people have told me how much the sessions meant to them or how much they learned. Yes I made some money that day, and yes I've got bills to pay. But in 10 years I won't remember the figure I earned that day (before tax) I'll remember what those people said to me. And hopefully they'll remember me.

We work for money. And we do creative things in the hope they'll one day be a career. Maybe. But the value of these things shouldn't be so reductive. And frankly it's the least interesting part. We who do all this for free, pursue passions. We're excited and interested and yes a bit nerdy about it all. But we also have reasons for doing it. Look at the above description, although I'm being a bit flippant, this play means something to me. And hopefully it will eventually to other people too.

So next time someone tells you about a really cool project they're excited about, ask them about the project. Not about how much it pays. It'll be a far more interesting conversation. And you might learn something.

Fly whatever flag: Pride and Me.

It's Pride month and sometimes it feels like being beaten over the head with a Rainbow Flag. Especially when you still aren’t quite sure where you fit in.

Pride is great. Pride means different things to different people. 

For me Pride is always first and foremost about the battles that went before, and the battles still to be fought and won. It’s about honouring those we have lost, who fought for our community, and those who are still here who led the way.

What it’s also about for me is being seen. About being visible. And for those of us comfortable being vocal, being visible for those outside the LGBT+ community to see we are just people. And for those who might be struggling to have people like them just to see.  

This blog is about a few things. It's about making Pride about what you need it to be. It's about not fitting in. About labels. 

Being bisexual is sometimes exhausting. A bit outside a community a bit in it. But moreover, having relationships feels like a minefield.

Let’s talk about labels. When I was 17 I called myself Pansexual. I used that term because. Because I heard Alan Cumming describe himself as that and a) I fancied him b) I thought he was one of the coolest people around. Both a & b are still true. 

I’ve been and out and proud bisexual woman since I was 17 and told my best (male) friend as much and he did the typical 17-year-old boy thing of telling me ‘that’s really hot’. Well at least it set me up for a lifetime of hearing that. I've told myself for 15 years I'm not bothered by biphobia, bierasure and that sense of not fitting in. But really. Honestly that's not true. 

Ironically today I label myself Bisexual, a label that the community at times it feels would like to erase. To which I say ‘bisexual’ is only transphobic if you’re a shitty transphobic person. Because when a person tells me their gender I accept it and don't ask what gender they were born before we continue speaking/flirting. And the term ‘Bisexual’ is an important label to many people. So, I’ll fight for it.

It’s not news that Bisexuals get a rough deal. There’s erasue of our identity from within the community, denial of it inside and out. The idea that we’re slutty, the idea we should just ‘pick a side’. And let me tell you I wish I could.

I can’t tell you the number of times I wished I could just ‘be gay’ and feel like a ‘proper’ member of our community. Isn’t that strange, you’d think if I was wishing for stuff I’d be wishing to be straight? Have my whole life easier. But I think it’s because I knew deep down I’d never be ‘in step’ with the straight community.

And back to labels, though a part of me abhors that, I think I’ve finally found labels that describe me. I’ve always felt like a freak because I’m not driven by relationships. I don’t seek them out. I don’t date much. And no, to put it bluntly I don’t seek out sex either. It’s just never been a driver for me. My straight friends in particular never understood. For most of them firstly seeking sex when we were younger, and later seeking longer-term sex in the form of relationships was always a driver. TV and film and books tells us we should always be seeking if not a relationship then at the very least sex.

And I just never have. I wondered if it was prudishness (nope). Insecurity (nope, I’m a pretty confident date as it happens). It’s just….not something I want. And yet….

I do however fall for people often. Romanticized dreaming and fantasies that usually (always) comes crashing down around me.

It turns out there’s an element of asexuality about me. To be precise demisexul. Which means, roughly

“A demisexual is a person who does not experience sexual attraction unless they form a strong emotional connection with someone. It's more commonly seen in but by no means confined to romantic relationships. The term demisexual comes from the orientation being "halfway between" sexual and asexual.” (thank you Wikipeidia)

So great. Just fucking great. I’m bisexual so not properly gay or straight. And I’m demi sexual not properly asexual either.

All of this is a struggle. I’m really scared to put this out there. Because how do you date like this? Who wants the half and half. I feel like damaged goods. And I don’t feel proud. I feel broken. I couldn’t be properly gay, I couldn’t be properly either asexual or just normal. I feel like the thing nobody will want. How do you date like that? Who will want you?

These are questions I have to ask myself, as I approach new labels I'm not sure I'm comfortable with. That I'm not sure I'm proud of yet. I know I'm not. I still feel wrong, weird. Broken. For someone who never felt that way about being Bi, that's a new feeling. 

It feels a bit like (bear with and don't attack) when I was diagnosed with the chronic illness I have: it explained so much but didn't immediatly make it easier to live with. But in time, I adjust, and I understand my body, my illness. As eventually I'll understand this. 

And as I spiral towards my 5^th midlife crisis I  still wonder….does this mean I’ll never have anyone?

And how in Pride Month do you be proud of that? Ending up a bunch of things you sure as hell didn’t ask for and can’t change. But that nobody else will want either.

Which brings me to my conclusion: What flag do I get to wave?

Well frankly the Rainbow one. Because that Rainbow flag stands for inclusion.  And I will stand there in Pride month and wave my Rainbow flag. Because I might still find it hard. But others find it harder.

The best piece of advice I heard as a young gay (ish) was from Russell T Davies who said ‘You never stop coming out’ and you don’t. I’m not obligated to discuss my sexuality with everyone, but I shouldn’t have to hide it.

Now regular people don’t need to know all my labels and sub labels. All they need to know is I belong under that Rainbow flag. And that if I want I can wave my Bisexual flag too, and an asexual one.

I don’t need all the labels at once. Nobody else certainly does. But I am proud to wave my flag.

A lot of this video was inspired by Youtuber Evan Edinger and these two videos, I don't share the exact same experiences and thoughts but his thoughts led me to write this post so here are the videos:  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bx1gb8SPF0g

Welcome to the Academic Outcasts Party

Not a political party. I'm just over here throwing a party for us lot who have for whatever reason found ourselves outside of academia by design or default. I'm writing this in part because I discovered it was 2 years since I handed in the final bound copy of the thesis.

First for anyone not familiar it was a long, difficult road. Not least the corrections period. I had a very finicky external examiner who was convinced any typo that slipped through mine and  4 proof reader's radar's was a personal affront to him. However it got there, it got handed in. And I didn't throw it at anyone in the process.

At the time I still considered academia an option. I wasn't as entirely sold on the idea as I had been, but putting that down to well, doing a PhD and getting to the end. Failing to secure an academic post (surprise surprise for someone who started in 2010 just when the impact of the 2008 financial crash was starting to seep in and the long established cracks in the academic machine starting to show). But let's face it I never stood a chance.

I had a terrible PhD experience. I was convinced to take up a PhD at my institution by someone whose motives I now question. An older man who seems to enjoy holding power over younger women. In moves I can retrospectively see more clearly, existing issues were blown up bigger so that he could come in and 'rescue' the situation. A troubling mix from the stark.

But as a first generation University attendee, never mind PhD, I had no real steer other than what I bumbled through myself. I took the option I had despite not being a great fit for my subject, because it offered employment and a chance to live at home. 4 hard years followed. Some of the difficulties were simply beyond any one's control- reshuffles in the University, people leaving posts the usual upheaval. Other issues were more personal, like the PhD supervisors who first hated each other, playing me off in their own power games, then in turn me. It was by the end an unmitigated disaster.

But I loved my research. I loved teaching more than anything and I even still had faith in HE and what in the right hands it could do. And I loved my work. It was a passion project from the start. Still is.

Months of part time temporary work had followed the viva in student support. I loved that job. I loved working hands on with students and making a difference. But it's not a job you can make a living in- how ridiculous but like most caring roles the government and Universities don't see it fit to spend money on. And so I took a job in Research Development. Another Alt- Ac route. And having come from academic admin before the PhD I wasn't snobbish like some PhDs can be about that work. I know how important support roles in Universities are, and still do. However...

If I had to re-live the last hellish year of PhD or that year in development, I'd choose the PhD every time. To quote one of my PhD texts 'That's how bad'. I was, on the whole extremely valued by my academic colleagues, and well supported. However the team I was placed in either had a natural dislike for academics in general (worrying choice of career if so) or just me personally. It was hellish, and frustrating. And also felt a bit like peering over the fence watching the other kids play. Being a part of academic just not really.

And of course the fixed term contract wasn't renewed. Except it was. Just 5 months after I left, and at half the time (and money). And of course nobody I worked with bothered to tell me. I found out from Facebook, that my old job was now available again. To quote my Mother at the time 'Wow they really don't like you do they'. It seems not.

By this time I'd taken another job, which I'm still a temp in but still in. It's a step down in status, and in money. It's not a job that I am particularly good at (this isn't anything I don't freely admit in work) and it's not one I intended to stay in for long (again, employers and colleagues well aware, the temp arrangement suiting everyone currently). It is adjacent to the work I'd like to be doing.

But above all even in the hellish Alt-Ac job, and now there's a sense of freedom. It scares me that yes it's been 2 years since I did any 'real' academic work. But I've done so much else. Because I had freedom to.

A year ago I turned down an academic job interview. One of the few I'd ever been granted. Truth be told I was simply breaking down and couldn't face it. But I also gave myself a year to try other things. To see where things take me.

Now truth be told they haven't taken me that far yet. I'm still in a job I'm not thrilled with. I'm not entierly sure what kind of job is even on the horizon for someone like me. But I've done so much else. I've written plays and had them performed. I've written reviews and articles and loved it. I've got to fufil a dream and be a part of the National Theatre's production of Angels in America.

And I've got to live my life. I got to enjoy the last two years my lovely dog was with us, and go for walks. I get to soon (hopefully) adopt a new doggy and enjoy them. I see friends,I've made so many new friends.  I go to the theatre. I have time.

Now don't get this wrong. I work damn hard. I got to work full time and 4 nights a week and a weekend day I spend working on something. I take time off work to do other work. I'm forever chasing my tail.  It's exhausting. But underneath it all I feel like I'm chasing passions again. And yes there are days it feels hopeless and it'll never happen even if I knew what it was. Which I don't. But to quote Tony Kushner there is an ethical obligation to hope. And so I do.

Finally it feels like I've finally stopped. After years of fighting. I just stopped. And it's scary when a thousand academic voices are shouting at you from the void that you must never stop. Yet I did. And nobody died.

My book will get written. I will attend a conference or two if I feel like it. I'll find another job. I always do. Meanwhile there are other passions to chase. There are new adventures to be had. My PhD got me to this point and I'm grateful to it. In one respect it gave me the guts and yes the cheek, after everything I went through to put myself out there. We grew up together, but we've now grown apart.

There's a song I listen to whenever I need calming down- which is frequently- from Groundhog Day the musical. Called 'Seeing You' and it's about when Phil finally realises what he has in front of him. And it always reminds me of stopping this endless chase.

"I used to think the only way to better days was through tommrorow"

And when he says;

"And I'm here. And I'm fine"

I think, you know what Phil, so am I. I'm an academic outcast. And I'm here. And I'm fine.

Why I'm exhausted

There's a thing I've noticed. People who got into jobs just before the going got REALLY shit, think you're making it up when you say it's hard out there.

And I'm tired. I'm tired of wondering where my next job will be and how long it will be and whether I'll have to move and whether I'll have to move again. And will I be paid enough. And can I do this thing in six months because I don't know where I'll be working then. And should I buy this thing because how long before I'm between pay again because if there's a gap between contracts....and what if and what if and what if...

Let's put aside the 100s (and I'm not exaggerating this) of jobs I've applied for in the past 2 years alone. It's also the endless short term contracts. And the resulting insecurity. Because it's alwasy about hunting the next thing. Worrying when the current thing will end.

I'm exhausted and it's making me ill. But I know I can't be alone in this. So here is my litiny of regret, my list of employment (not counting even shorter gigs and freelancing moments that have filled the last 5-6 years as well) These are the places where I waited for contracts or jobs that never came, while still hunting the elusive White Whale that is a "Proper Job".


1998-2002 (Ages 15-18) Stable Hand. Working for riding lessons we couldn't otherwise afford.
2001-2003- Checkout Assistant ASDA (First real job, as soon as I was old enough)
2002-2007- The University years. I won't bore you with the details. It involved a lot of customer service and a lot of coffee spilled on me.

So far so normal.

2007 Civil Service: Three month temporary contract. Extended month by month for another 6 months. I could have stayed longer (month by month) but a particularly sexist pig motivated me to take my chances elsewhere.

2008 University Admin Department:  Two week temp job. Extended to a month. Then two months. For an entire year I lived with month to month extensions, promised a Full Time job would be advertised soon, that I was welcome to apply for. It never came.

2008 (as well): Dresser. Theatre. Zero hours contract.

2009-2010- Trained to be a teacher. Random supply days for a few months after.

2010-2014- The PhD Years. Jobs here included:

Teaching at the University: Zero hours, term time only. Number of hours and therefore income decided only 2 weeks before term started most years.
Front of House (Theatres): Zero hours, minimum wage. Show dependant. Since leaving one of these has changed it into a volunteer job, another shortly follows suit.
Support Worker (University) : Zero hours contract. A little above minimum wage. Pay cut in 4th year of employment due to Government cuts. Term time only.

2014 Theatre: Two week job, because former friend told a lie that got me fired.

2014/15 University: Support Worker. As above.

2015/16 University Administrative Support 12 month fixed term contract. Told there was possibility for renewal at the end. After contract ended it was advertised at 0.5 of the contract (so half the pay)

Current Role: 5. 5 month contract. Extended by 4 months. Extended by another 2.

I don't say any of this to attack the employers, many of whom have been as sympathetic and supportive as any could be.

And this is not through lack of trying. Of course I try to get permanent jobs, but statistically they just aren't there. And employers are either forced to offer these contracts, or simply can get away with it.

And why stay? because often you are promised if you stick around long enough, get the experience, do good work, "when" a job comes up your name will be on it. But the job never comes up. And you can only stay so long, mainly because the contracts end. So you move on, to another, 'one day my job will come' situation. And again, and again.

And I'm not including here all the odd days of work here and there, and hours upon hours of volunteer work designed to get me 'a foot in the door' ready for that elusive full time job that lasts more than a year.

And what does all this add up to? exhaustion. Myself and others fighting this fight never get a let up from job hunting, we also never get a let up from worrying. It affects my health, physical and mental and what's more I can never plan for anything. I can't book a holiday in advance, I don't know where I'll be working. It's all the stress of being a freelancer without any of the benefits.

The culture of short term jobs isn't resulting in a good workforce- when everything is just 'for now' it's hard to really commit- for employers to train and for employees to give their all. Because for us as employees our eye has to always be on the next thing.

People who got a job after Graduating, and peacefully went from one to another. They don't get this. They also don't get why I go up and down in terms of seniority and type of job, or why I never seem to have a 'proper' jobs. I'm trying to do all the things you're supposed to do to get a 'proper' job. It just never seems to quite pan out.

Above all I'm exhausted. So next time someone asks why you're just on a temporary contract, or why you still live at home, maybe don't feel like you're alone. Because I'm there and I'm exhausted too.

It's not your fault (and other things to tell ourselves when nobody believes us)

Firstly, hey, hello, yes this blog has been resurrected from whatever depths it's been languishing in.

This could have been a rant. I'm upset, I am, for reasons apparent in the rest of this. But I'm choosing to turn it around. So to that end I say to anyone out there in PhD land, alt-ac land, with-a-PhD land or just the general 'where did it all go wrong land':

It's not your fault.

Even if you think it is. Even if you could have done things differently (and we all could) even if you just think the whole damn thing is a huge mistake: it's not your fault.

Things I'm declaring not my fault today: 

1. That the economy went to shite in 2008. Around the time I was looking for my first 'proper' jobs. I finished my Masters in late 2007. By the time I was ready to move on from 'just give me a job for my CV and some damn income' to 'Hey career move' things were already going to hell. That was beyond my control.

2. That by 2010 Education was nose-diving along with the economy and that was the profession I'd ended up in. I made a deliberate choice in 2009 to undertake my PGCE. School budgets are being slashed, arts and humanities are always the first to go. So what was an investment into a secure career became a risky gamble.

3. The Conservatives got elected. Which made 1 and 2 so much  worse. Then Trump got elected and well...

4. Higher Education is a system at breaking point. I decided on a leap of faith to do my PhD and use my teaching skills there and follow a dream when 2 took effect.  And I joined it as the cracks began to show. By the time I'd done three years on zero hours teaching contracts there was no more money for adjunct teachers. And every other local University (because you can't commute or move for adjunct teaching) was in the same boat. Full time jobs were cut, fixed term ones fewer and fewer. Funding less and less. Restructures happen left and right so even the alt-ac jobs are at risk.

Genuinely the above are things that happened to happen as I was doing my damn best to shape my career. Now here's some more particular to me that aren't my fault:

1. I was born in 1984. Not say 1974, 1964, etc etc when the above might not have aligned with key moments in my life and career. Thems the breaks. I also happen to be not quite 'Generation X' and not quite a 'Millennial' which apparently makes it hard for the media to put my failings and political views in a box. So there's that too.

2. I was born into a poor family. My parents never had spare money. Often we didn't have enough money. Oh and my Dad died when I was 19, when I was in the middle of University, my Mum was working part time for minimum wage. There was nothing spare to go around. There still isn't. I was never going to get my tuition paid or a house deposit.

More importantly there's nobody to bail me out. Ever. If I get into debt, if I can't pay my rent, there's no bank of Mum and Dad to bail me out. The only safety net I have is a literal roof over my head at my Mum's . Which while I use it, I help pay for.

Those of us from backgrounds like this earn our keep (I've been working since I was 15) and we pay our way (I pay rent, I pay for everything else I have). Most importantly we work damn hard, because the fear keeps you going, as does the ethic passed down.

3. I'm willing to do anything to keep going. Because of the above I don't have the luxury of sticking to a 'career plan' I just have to work. And if that means taking a minimum wage job on top of teaching, or taking a job that pays 1/3 less and is about 4 steps down the ladder, you do it. And it's not your fault to need ot keep going.

These are just my examples. All of you out there have them, whether it's taking a career break to have children, taking a job because it fits being a carer for someone else, you moved because your partner did, you can't move because you don't have the means, you were ill, you are ill. Or even damnit if luck just isn't on your side.

It's not your fault.

If you're sick of hearing any of the following (And I know I am)

People complaining about their jobs that they've had for 10 years
People being surprised that you can't get a job doing whatever it is you're trying to do
People being surprised you're doing the job you're doing
That you're simultaneously over-qualified and under-qualified for a job
That you just missed being hired or shortlisted

If you're sick of people not understanding that:
Having/doing a PhD doesn't mean you've never worked
That it's an easy ride
That you should be able to easily get a job in academia
That you're not qualified for anything outside of academia
That you've not paid in cash, time or other sacrifices to do it.

If you're just plain sick and tired of:
Not being able to plan for 6 months time. Because you don't know what you're job situation will be.
Not being able to afford well...anything because of the above.
Feeling like you suck at what you're doing for a living
Feeling like you wasted your time, effort and money.
Using every spare waking hour trying to change the situation.

It's not your fault. None of it. As much as we tell ourselves we could work harder, as much as we compare ourselves to everyone else. It's not our fault. The world, our industry and plain old luck went to hell in a handbasket while we were all trying to contribute to society and do the thing we felt we were good at.

That's easy enough to think, when not confronted by someone who got in before it all went to hell. Who can't understand why you haven't paid off your student loans and bought a house. Or why if you're so clever you're doing this crappy job (which you clearly aren't good at). But it's not your fault. We're all working bloody hard out there.

And if I say it to my fellow PhD-ers enough, I might just believe it myself next time. Instead of crying in the toilets. Again.

Time to Talk- Talking about mental health

Not strictly a PhD blog, but certainly one that impacts. Today (Time To Change are holding Time to Talk day, a day to promote talking about mental health. I talked about mental health for the first time on this blog, and anywhere really here ( here)

So firstly PhD/academic life and anxiety/depression/mental health. I probably didn't realise how much I was suffering through my PhD and how much damage was done by it- that's something I'm still realising. Luckily on the flip side I've found younger academics I've met to be some of the most open about mental health and it's them who have led me to be able to write this for Time to Talk day.

So how did a PhD impact my mental health? well it didn't create issues, but it certainly brought to the surface and made worse ones that were already there-mostly because I felt I had to keep them hidden.

The constant criticism that's inherently part of a PhD/Academia will wear anyone down. Throw in someone prone to anxiety and depression and you can end up locked in a spiral of crippling self doubt. The constant competition in academia is also no good for mental health of those with anxiety issues, the constant comparison to other people, and the fear-nay the knowledge- you will never be good enough leaves you in a constant state of anxiety. And gives you a feeling of worthlessness. And the fact that you come out the other end not with a feeling of accomplishment so much as a set of things you haven't done as well as you could have and a knowledge of all the people out there better at it than you.

Academia didn't give me mental health issues, but the culture has exacerbated it. And if we were able to be more hoenst about the damage we were doing to ourselves, we'd be better equipped ot deal with it, adn life after the PhD.

Son as it's Time To Talk day, I thought I'd be honest about how anxiety and depression affect my life.

Depression is the easy one, I'm prone to fits of dark despair, of feeling worthless, lacking motivation and that nothing will ever be right again. I mean that's about it. I'm lucky I don't suffer that badly, I can usually pull myself on through after a few days. That's how it is for me. But that doesn't mean it isn't worth talking about.

Anxiety for me is the big one. Here's a few everyday things that send me through the roof:

1. Phones.
Hate them. Been known to drop it when it rings out of sheer 'get it away from me'
2. Driving.
I'm going to crash. I'm going to get lost. Multiply by 10 if I'm driving someone I don't know well. Or my Mother.
3. Being Late.
I'm always early. But I live in constant fear I will be late and the world will end.
4. Plans.
This can be plans I've made. A lack of plan. Plan being cancelled. All of these make me anxious.

Add these to an overriding sense that I'm always *this* close to being fired from my job, that I'm therefore going to run out of money, never be employed again etc etc. It's pretty exhausting.

The big one for me is relationships. I will remember the most flippant innocuous comment from years previous, and be convinced that a) I am an idiot b) that person that heard it still hates me for it.

That's the most superficial level of it though, I can kind of turn the volume down on that a bit. The biggy is this: I'm only ever one message or conversation away from thinking my friends hate me.

I'm lucky that some of my closest friends share the same issues I do. I can go to them and say 'Do you hate me? because you didn't answer my text last night' and they will get it. Other friends, who don't share it, will understand if I do a more 'normal' version of that, saying 'Hey we haven't talked in a while is everything ok?'

And then there are those who don't. I've been called annoying, even manipulative for asking the question or raising the concern that I may have done something wrong. Because that's what my brain tells me, that I must have screwed up. And logical me wants to fix the thing that illogical me is essentially making up.

So that's my anxious brain. Now maybe, just maybe if we really did make Time to Talk then instead I could just turn to friends and say 'Hey, my anxiety is really bad, and I'm thinking like this can you just reassure me it's all in my head'

Maybe if we could make Time to Talk, make it normal, I wouldn't have lost a friend of 8 years reccently because my anxiety made me insecure enough to ask one to many times. If we made Time to Talk maybe they'd have understood it was my anxiety talking not me.

Maybe if we made Time to Talk we'd all understand each other a little better.

Rejection hurts (especially five months later)

Today I received a job rejection.

Nothing new about that. I actually couldn't tell you how many I've received over the last say two years. What was unusual about that rejection it was for a job that I'd interviewed for five months ago.

Five. Months.

Now if I'd applied, not heard a thing and eventually got an automated HR email months later that's one thing. Often for application stage you don't hear a thing. That's annoying, but fine. If however I've interviewed, I've prepared, presented, taken time out of my existing work and often travelled. Then I deserve the courtesy of a personal response in a timely fashion.

What I got was a formatted HR email, with the option of "feedback" from someone in HR. Not even someone in the room. I'm going to come out and say it: it's disrespectful, to me, to the work I put into the application, the interview and everything that led to that point. At the very least I should have been offered feedback from someone on the panel, at the very least I'd usually expect a phone call. At the very least I'd expect all of this before five months.

Now this is unusual. It's extreme. But it's indicative of the way a sector is going. Academics, particularly early careers ones are now so many, we've become disposable.

And this is where the dichotomy becomes weird. Because to the wider system we're nothing. Nobody. Ten-a-penny and worthless. I get that, most of us get that who are out there now trying. But at the same time nobody can see us as anything BUT academics. So we're nothing to the wider world, and failures to the academic world.

This is also important when offering condolences to friends who have had rejection. I took this, which was my last ditch attempt at an academic job, as cementing proof of my failure. People on twitter were quick to reach out and assure me it wasn't failure, just re-framing my life.

Here's the thing. When that comes from someone who is a PhD doing something else (and happy)it means the world. More often it comes from a PhD who is an academic, who 'made it' and actually can't imagine doing something else.  Many of them also often lament how horrible academia is, how they 'wish' they were doing something else. And yet, they don't leave. And yet, I know they'd have framed any other path as a failure.

And so what now? I got an interview in my last ditch attempt before taking a temporary job out of academia. That I got that interview made me re-think applying again when something came up- I was a great on paper match for that job, but really what is the point? What is the next move?

Well it's resigning myself once again to failure. I always knew I wasn't good enough. But not being considered even a person enough for a polite timely rejection, that's the stuff that hurts.