I spend a large portion of my day every day realizing that I understand little of what is going on. I may be bad at archaeology. The most difficult for me is realizing that everything I “find” is nothing. Cursed colluvium. And ice fracture. And anything else that alters the rocks and gets my hopes up only for them to be crushed later as the rocks were crushed, not by humans but natural processes.
We’re having a real issue of the blind leading the blind in the pit of despair. Thomas hasn’t done any actual Archaeology courses and I’m generally terrible at practical things, as a general rule. So we get into these long-winded colloquies over every little piece of colluvium and then we take it to PhD McGee for a third opinion, he looks at it for three seconds and then tosses it to the discard pile. Then I cry a little. It’s a viscious cycle of colloquies, colluvium, and lastly, crying. Ok, I don’t literally cry but my soul does get crushed.
Not to be melodramatic.