Symphony of Science

In these bleak bleak oh so bleak days, this is my fucking jam from an almost forgotten if not naive old me that fucking loved science man, fucking loved science so much she wanted to smother it and eat like a fucking puppy.

Man the nostalgia meets the pain of realizing how much passion I held and which has been pretty agonizing for some time now. I fucking hate classrooms and assignments and this learning system man,

but also the environment and the headline and the weather and the load of works and the burden of being a functioning human being but also paying attention to surroundings and to the road.

I wanted to do a PhD because I fucking loved research and spent countless times pursuing the projects that I was fond of. I used to read and read and obsess over concepts and read them in three different sources or languages just to make sure I am absorbing as much as my hunger enticed me to. That drive brought me all the way here.

But now, one year and half into my PhD after two years of an MS, I look back and can't believe how much I was invested on my own without any worry or frustration.

And I'm not even yet at the research part and that's what kills me. It's the system itself and the unpredictable and unstable conditions that chipped at my ambition bit by bit. I truly truly hope this is just a matter of professors and homework and workload.

I would hate to finally get to the research part, which is by May 2020 and be burnt-out, drained if not disgusted at the idea of peering over articles and programs and topics.

Man, I fucking loved science man