Life is funny. The last time I stopped by this space I had barely started on the PhD programme. Things were exciting and fuzzy, and I couldn't possible grasp what it all actually meant. The scale of change since then have been enourmous. Literally life-changing. My little pre-move head would not believe all that happened if I travelled back in time to tell. Anyway, enough with reminiscing. I think some explaining is in order.

Why am I writing in English? Yes, Portuguese is my mother tongue. However, and this is one of the suprising changes I went through in the past 8 years since my move, all I write is in English. This means my thinking-through-writing process has been refined in English to the point I no longer feel proficient enough to write cohernt texts in Portuguese. This goes for personal and professional writing. I must admit it's quite odd, but that't where I find myself. The fact that I rarely speak Portuguese doesn't help either. Unless I call home, or long-time friends via social media, there's no Portuguese-speaking people in my everyday life whcih whom I could speak. 

Why come back to blogging now? I don't think I realised with this much clarity how much writing regularly - I mean, daily - sharps my brain, refines my thoughts, and calms my mind. No, scratch that. Reading old posts, I think I knew in a teenager way of knowing, then forgot about it for more than a decade, and now it's come back to me in the process of becoming an academic, with so much constant (re)writing to refine arguments. I do think through writing. Well, I think we all do. I just happen to have a job that forces me to confront that fact regularly. Explaining done. Now, back to some dear diary moment.

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I'm sitting at a cafe somewhere in the North of England - I suspect the idiosyncrasies, struggles and beauty of living and working in this corner of the world will come up regularly. It took me years to find out I need to leave the house to focus enough to write, unless there is an imminent deadline and desperation has taken over my fingers. There is something about the background noise of cafes. Voices, music, the frothing of milk, the espresso machines all bundle into one sound ball of yarn (that's how I picture it in my mind). 

I have a few papers I need to work through, either rewriting based on reviewers' comments or developing an argument yet to be submitted to a journal. To quote one of my dear colleagues: I have papers coming out of my arse. Curiously enough, I was reminded I once had a blog, and that it's still here, by one of they readings I had to do to rewrite a paper. It mentioned a chronological sequence of social media platforms, from Orkut - yes, you read that right - to BlackBerry Messenger, which I never actually used, despite at one point owning one of those tiny-buttoned bastards. 

This week we're preparing to go on a 5-days long walk, which shall be interesting. I've been saying for years that I want to do the Camino/St James/ Santiago walk in Portugal, but haven't yet done the necessary planning or training. Doing this one in Englad, for 5 days, in what will probably not be the most pleasant of weathers (moderately cold, possibly rainy), will be good practice. I spent some good money updarting my hiking boots, ensuring I have gore-tex everything, and got a new, larger and more resistant backpack. We start on Monday, walking about 20-25 km per day, and sleeping at different pubs and inns along the way. I'm looking forward to it, even if somewhat concerned about my knees.

Time to read some stuff. I'll be back.