and counting. . . .
I begin to fixate on the physical impossibility of the task at hand. Hundreds of citations to review and put into Chicago style. Bibliography to prepare. REWRITES of chapters 1 through 4, and Magda says she'll have chapter 5 comments hopefully early next week. And today?
Well, I really SHOULD get a handle on the final vision of what this thing is about! And write the top and the tail. . . . so that I know what other guts need to go in, in between, as I turn then to do the re-writes.
Actual conversation this morning:
"Were you serious when you said you didn't know what the point of your dissertation is?"
"Well, uh. . . . ah. . . Hmmm. Yeah. I think I was."
For the life of me, I couldn't think what the point was. I had all sorts of interim "knowledge" and clever comments and insights and critiques, but the point? Ah. . . right. The point. . . . There was a point to this. At some point. Once upon a time.
I just couldn't think of it anymore.
The king hopped in the shower and I snuggled under the covers for another 10 minute snooze. The weather has finally broken, and the 90 degree record-setting heat/drought finally gave way to a thunderous display of really fierce rain clouds annoyed to have been kept waiting so long. They dropped their several inches of rain overnight and have departed leaving the sky forever-blue and the temperature 30 degrees colder. I'm liking it!
When the king got out of the shower, he toweled off and told me the point of my dissertation. Bless his heart. He's been listening. And he remembered. And he was able to remind me.
Right! There is a point. And it is . . . . ah. . . . well, I'm just about to go off and write it. I'll let you know how it turns out. Otherwise, I may have to take dictation from the king. He seems to have a better handle on this just now.