And so I kept going. I often thought: this is ridiculous, I’m going home. Those weren’t very productive days but I stayed put.
The night before my last conference presentation I decided I would definitely not give my presentation. As I tossed and turned in bed, it seemed the perfect protest against the academic system. But I still went out there and did it. In fact, I suddenly realised that it was going to be my last time.
Since then I’ve been suffering from preventive homesickness. Every time I run a linear mixed model I feel more nostalgic. Whenever I have to supervise my student, it occurs to me that science is actually rather fun. Sometimes I wince at the thought that I’ll soon no longer be able to read scientific papers.
And my affair with an investigative journalism platform is not turning out to be a bed of roses either. The work is fine but after sweating away for ages and finally writing something, I hear on Facebook that a download price of 29 cents is pretty steep. That is when I suddenly feel the attraction of a government salary plus pension.
Or my new colleagues (great guys, don’t get me wrong). I get to Amsterdam only to hear that Wageningen is on the other side of the world. That’s when I feel homesick for the days of sharing an office with Italians or Chinese people.
I just know it’s going to be disaster and I’m going to get so annoyed. But at least these are disasters and annoyances I know. Perhaps a postdoc is not such a bad idea after all.