On June 23, at 3:00 pm, and after a very long 36-hour sleepless shift at the office, I handed in two copies of my thesis to Oxford’s examination schools. These two copies—which, I should add, were printed on some truly stunning textured stock—would be delivered to my examiners, one an ocean away and the other, only a few doorsteps.

In writing my thesis, I was acutely aware of the fact that everyone feels like they need to make theirs as if its their last and final monograph, their pièce de résistance, the one work that defines their career. But I was also aware that this was just an urge and the true bits which define a researcher is what follows after.

In theory, that’s how it should have been. In practice, however, the thought didn’t help me from fawning and frowning over my font choices, the size of my margins, and little itty-bitty details that don’t really matter. As an artist, photographer, and (lapsed?) perfectionist, I can’t help but treat the thesis like my little baby. In the end, I did eventually re-write the preface about four different times, which included four vastly different versions. The final version was (perhaps disastrously) written at about 4 am in the morning the night before—about the time my brain decided to switch off. You can have a look at the front matter here

But in the end, I’m reasonably happy with what I did. I am proud of my thesis, and proud of what I managed to accomplish in so little time. Someone did point out to me that, given my exaggerated standards and mindset, I’d never admit to producing my ‘best work’, anyways, so this is a satisfactory submission.

I’m happy with that observation.

I have felt something strange lately though, something I haven’t felt for a long time. You know that feeling we used to get when we finished school for the year, and summer was upon us?

I hadn’t had that feeling since high school, but I guess I feel it now.

The air is sweeter. The heat of the sun and the coolness of the wind has never been more apparent. And day-dreaming? I’ve started day-dreaming again! What incredible bliss!

That said, in the month (or now, twenty-or-so days) until my thesis defense, I have a great deal of work to get through, including the preparation of various papers for publication, as well as preparing myself (spiritually and academically) for the full impact of my job-to-be in America.

Finally, I’ve begun thinking about this blog, and perhaps more generally, about what directions I want to take my ‘hobbies’ (if you can call them that) in the next few years.

Almost two years ago, I made the comment that statistically, things weren’t looking too good for Phil’s Proof:

Occasionally, I struggle with what to do with the blog. The post rate has dipped down to catastrophic levels, I’ve lost pretty much all my readership, and to be honest, the whole thing stinks of lack-of-focus. A blog can only work with constant updates and with a clear idea of what it offers. This is what separates a truly successful blog from the work of an emo high-school teenager looking for catharsis.

However, it still doesn’t feel right to pull the plug. I like this blog, I like its history, I like its potential, I like how it looks; deep down, I like it. I really do.

But deep down, I also know that my life is moving in a direction in which I find it harder and harder to blog. When it comes to my work and career (as a mathematician), I’ve never been shy to admit that it takes precedence over any other aspect of my life. But being young (and being fond of high school and everything it entails), I’ve never been comfortable with letting go of things like blogging.

Blogging is cathartic, and moreover, it’s one of the ways that I—at least in the past—kept from being too immersed in the cold and weird world of maths. It’s one of the ways I kept connected to the outside world.

But in the last year, I think I’ve began letting go of that security blanket. And I think this is why the blog suffered.

Today, however, I had an epiphany.

I know now how I can continue this blog (at least in spirit), and rectify my ever-advancing immersion in the world occupied by professional mathematicians.

The world is changing, faster and faster, every day. Things like Facebook and Twitter (and blogging) have changed the landscape of how we communicate and how we interact. Mathematicians have to recognize that fact, and with the ease in which video conferencing and video blogging (hint, hint!) is done, you’d have to be an idiot not to embrace this change and everything it entails.

It does very much come down to focus. What do I want? How will what I do be different from what’s currently available? What does it take to separate myself from the pack? Those are some of the questions I need to ask (and answer) in the coming months.

It’s all very much on the down-low and totally in the works at the moment. In fact, it’s nothing but a vague concept in my mind. But the gears will turn, ever so slowly, I can assure you, and I hope that you’ll continue to visit as things change.

Aaaarrrggggghhhhhh

Two weeks left. Can’t….focus….

I’m finishing my Ph.D.

Deadline is June 20th, and I’m in a great deal of fear at the moment.

So go away.

In writing my thesis, I’ve been banking on the fact that your Ph.D. thesis usually means very little. A copy goes to the University library, a copy goes to your supervisor, a copy to the department library, and a copy for yourself.

Occasionally, new graduate students will pick it up for a read, but that’s about it.

What matters is the publications that arise from the thesis and not the actual thesis.

Knowing this, I’ve been writing my thesis in the reverse order: I’ve written each chapter separately as a publication, and I had planned on jamming everything together a month before the final copy is due. In this way, I get to cut down on the guff that a lot of students tend to put into their theses, but that doesn’t make the final publications.

For cryin’ out loud, my Master’s thesis was about a hundred pages, but the results were printed in a 20-page article. That’s the kind of bloated inflation I don’t like to see.

It’s not difficult to write a 250 page thesis. After all, you’ve been doing the research for how-ever many years, you certainly have enough to write as much as you want. The real difficulty is writing a tight, well presented, and concise thesis.

That’s what I’ve been aiming for.

In the end, I’d expect my thesis to be about a hundred pages long (single-spaced), of which around ninety pages will make it into publication.

“I’m not wrong, am I?” I asked my supervisor, “Your thesis doesn’t really matter. Nobody’s actually going to read it, right? Nobody actually cares.”

“Your mum does!” he said.

Case, meet point.

Here we go: First day of the last term of my formal education. For ever and evaaaaar. Hurumph. It’s about time.

Sorry for the brevity of this update. Apparently, these inane one-sentence proclamations that nobody cares about is what Twitter’s for.