there's just no easy way to say this. . . .

I passed.

Wow.

I PASSED!!!!

Not only did I pass, but I passed AS IT STANDS. As it was written. No corrections or additions - although I do get to fix typos before getting it printed on lovely heavy bond paper and bound. . . .

Magda told me (1) this never happens! and (2) this is the shortest viva she's ever attended. She had no notes to take.

There were comments, but they were geared towards the publication of "my book". [my book!!!] They had some excellent thoughts about how to make the book more accessible and to help stave off possible areas of criticism. Both external and internal emphasized how "important" they thought my work was - and how important they thought it was that it be published as soon as possible.

I'm sorry - I'm still a bit shell-shocked. I scheduled us in for a few extra days after the viva so that I could make copies of whatever additional resources I need to consult to take home and hope to gear myself up to making changes; writing extra transitions; adding citations, etc. As it turns out now, I'm going to correct the 22 (!!) typos. . . . (that sounds worse than it is. . . .) and go camp out at the dissertation printing centre and get this thing done TOMORROW!!!! And turned in.

Looks like I could be graduating in July. . . .

The coolest thing?

They liked it. They really liked it.

The king and I went up to the Shelbourne Hotel for a celebratory concoction, and remembered that - 3 days from now - is our 3 year proposal anniversary. Same place. We walked down the street and had a simply splendid dinner at La Mere, Zou. Oh. yum.

wow. . . .

I know. I said that already.

Hey - thanks for the good wishes and the notes and emails! much appreciated. . . . I think I need to go to sleep now. More later.

'twas the night before viva. . . .

and I have a glass of red wine handy. The chatty lad at the wine store is a natural-born salesman and got me on two bottles with a description of chocolate, currant and pepper notes - nearly lost me with the story of how it reconciled him to his girlfriend's parents (or was it the girlfriend?) - re-engaged with the recommendation of a 70% dark chocolate to go with the wine. . . . and ultimately held me captive with the very sad story of his exam failure that will necessitate another repeat in 'mats' (meaning 'mathematics') and his enthusiasm for his preferred course of study: law, politics, and economics.

From there, it was a hop, skip, and a jump to stem cell research, the ethics surrounding recent legal pronouncements in in vitro case law, and the politics of funding and public disclosure, not to mention the inside information he was privy to, which might come from his mother, but then again, he didn't want to say, precisely, although he wouldn't deny it (he said) and she did work for the Attorney General's office. . . . I'd say he'd made the trip to Blarney a time or two. He never met a topic he didn't like, or wouldn't be amenable to wax prolific on.

Luckily an elderly chap finally entered the store, and I was able to leave before that gentleman realized his peril.

Actually, the saleslad was rather entertaining, but I had reached my limit and wanted to get back to the flat, pour a glass of wine, and take a peek at the two articles Magda sent me away with.

"But perhaps you won't have time to read these, but they will be handy for later, if you need them. And perhaps you will look at them, briefly, in case you need to refer to them. . . ."

By which I take it that these would be good to refer to at the viva, even though I did not refer to them in my dissertation, because they weren't out then.

If you get my drift.

Magda is some kind of wonderful supervisor! It's just taken me some time to be able properly to translate her sometimes, and my early dealings with her suffered I think, accordingly.

By the way, I am staying just to the right of the bridge in the foreground, which I can see from my room, as well as the green dome which is across the river. . . .

Anyway, there's not really much more I can do tonight. I'll have dinner with some friends and then do a bit of reading and try to hit the sack early. The king arrives at about 8 am - so I can't sleep in, as I have to meet him. He doesn't know the city that well and we won't have mobile phones as a back up if we miss one another so I have to make sure I'm at the meeting place. It's a bit hair-raising. . . . but I'm sure it will come off with no problems.

Then, the exam is at 2:30. All I have to do in the morning is come up with a 5 minute introduction of my work (10 max, but no longer), and then be prepared to answer questions. Then it's done. And then we'll see what we'll see!

Till tomorrow, then.

happiness and paradox - viva minus 7

I woke up in the middle of the night, all in a sweat that I hadn't talked in my dissertation about paradox with respect to the entertaining of two apparently irreconcilable positions.

Wouldn't you think that that would come to mind at some point? And wouldn't you think that that would surely come to the mind of someone [me!] who had actually spent some considerable time thinking about that very subject at the very beginning of this whole journey?!

Well - apparently not. Because it didn't. It just didn't. Not till now.

I wonder if anyone will bring it up at the viva? It seems a glaring omission to me, at this point. But hold on here! Wait a minute. . . . no one else has talked about paradox in this context, so maybe it's a bit more understandable. Maybe I just missed another potentially cool point I could have made, or maybe I dodged a bullet that would have derailed the dissertation. I don't know. . . .


Anyway, it really seems to me that the [especially Christian] embracing of paradox (theoretically, at least) could add another tool by which to attempt to navigate the terrain between the "good" and the "right". We do not have to choose one or the other where they [appear to] conflict. But neither do we need to do violence to the opposition presented in order to try and live - somehow - with both.

The other fill-in-the-blank 'gift' I got today was an article a girlfriend emailed me about happiness. It's an article by one Sharon Begley, entitled "Happiness: Enough Already." Quoting one Eric Wilson (who has apparently written a book entitled Against Happiness) she says

. . . "the blues can be a catalyst for a special kind of genius, a genius for exploring dark boundaries between opposites." The ever-restless, the chronically discontent, are dissatisfied with the status quo, be it in art or literature or politics.

It reminds me of my disagreement with a favorite writer of mine who quoted [with approval] a guy who tried to equate morality with science. In my comment disagreeing, I mentioned that that attempted equation would be to deflate immorality to a physical malady - presumably treatable with a pill. Here, we have a similar situation already going on, where everything not happy is pathological, and which ought to be treated with medication, or therapy, or both. ["ought" is italicized there, because I wanted to point out how often we ignore moral statements, which are so often headed by that little word. . . . ]

Anyway - enough for this morning. Off I go to chart the "dark boundaries between opposites" - not that I aspire to "special kind of genius" status - but I have been wrestling the blues!

viva minus 9

so, have you checked out the Viva Viagra commercial yet?

No?

Well - here it is for you. Or one of them, anyway. . . .

The band is pretty good.

You can tell I'm of a flippant disposition today. I haven't been doing the countdown and I discovered today that I'm already in the speed-up 10, 9, 8, 7 mode. . . . I still haven't made it through the dissertation all the way. May God have mercy on my poor. . . . [man! I can't even think of the word! What do you call it when you put things off? Right. That word] _________ing . . . . soul.

Today, via the Happiness Project, I came across an article about not adding value to other's ideas. I'd never heard it expressed this way, but I know exactly what they mean. I've always called people like that "dream cuckoos". They're people who try to deposit their own, unformed yet overgrown, awkward fledglings into the little dream nest you have labored over, to then crowd out or even devour your own little dreamlets. . . .

I've known quite a few of these people - there's one in my family (and it's not the king. . . .) - and I tend to give them a wide berth. Actually, I learned some time ago not to air early ideas at all. You've got to give them time to gestate first, or else they can get so mangled up that they'll never draw breath even if they do manage to see the light of day.

Do I try to "add value" to others' ideas?

I often want to. Sometimes I'm tempted to. But I usually default back to a cheerleading role fast enough, with an apology for trying to put my own oar in. I just remember how I feel when others start to try and hijack one of my dreamlets. Although sometimes people can come up with some good ideas! It's such a balance.

This was a difficulty I had with the whole academic process, by the way - as I realize just now, talking through it. I am of an artistic temperament, and tend to 'create' alone. The academic, however, also relies on community by which to work out ideas, sort through objections, and come up with consensus on solutions. This really is pretty antithetical to the artistic process, although - granted - artists also interact not only with one another, but also perhaps to an audience.

All this to say that I am not really looking forward to the viva insofar as it approaches an "adding value" process by which I must suffer the "good ideas" of others who have not spent 5 years on this. Even as I write this, I am very well aware of how unfair the suspected charge is. I know the internal examiner, and he's just great. He gives you lots of room for your own ideas, and with him it's always about the student and never about himself. He's one of the most generous people I know that way. His attitude also tends to rub off on others, so that before you know it, a room full of "Look at me!" students has become a very affirming exploration group.

I'm just not used to group explorations. They tend to go places I'm not that interested in. Or maybe it's just that I am boring, and they won't go there with me! In any event, I'm used to solo jaunts. . . .

Off now, to find something to munch on while I do some reading.

PS - the missing word, above, is "procrastinating". Right.

viva minus 14

There was a huge storm last night, which left me grateful to be inside, warm and dry under the covers trying to sleep. Unfortunately, the howling wind and claps of thunder made that rather difficult.

Today my actual best friend is coming over to go see the greenwood happenings and thereafter have a bit of a birthday lunch. We don't see much of each other any more. She's relatively newly married, as well, and what with her own house constructings and running a business she doesn't get a lot of free time. I miss hanging out with her. It's hard, then, to just enjoy time together when you do get it, because you feel like there's so much ground to cover - first, to catch up, and then to make up for the fact that you suspect you won't be seeing each other for another month or two!

I remember someone once saying how ridiculous they found the concept of "quality time" - when used as an excuse for spending a small amount of time with one's kids, for example. . . . [grammar question: does "one's" properly have an apostrophe there, for the possessive, or does that signify a contraction?]

Anyway, this person said something to the effect that more often than not it's really the spending of time with someone that counts - not just the supposed 'quality' of it. Granted, the quality counts, too, but not as much as we might like to think. You can't cultivate a friend from scratch by just spending one quality day a year - for example - with them. At some point, you just have to spend time. Riding in a car saying nothing. Skipping stones. Shopping for food together, perhaps, or going your separate ways in a bookstore (and meeting up afterwards to inspect acquisitions), enduring the boring recital because it's her kid and she asked that you go with her.

I don't excel at this, by any stretch. In fact, I'm pretty bad about it. Luckily, I've spent so much time with C over the years that I can get away with some patchy stretches. . . . every now and again, anyway. I think it's time to replenish the time-spent-together cache.

More reading today - I hope to get through 2 more chapters and then finish the dissertation tomorrow. At that point, I should have a better idea as to which works of my main author I wish to re-visit and in what order.

viva minus 15

Housekeepers today, so I was up and out early and headed over to the local college library and my favorite easy chair in the aerie overlooking the atrium with nothing but the dissertation and a pad of paper on which to record errata.

I have two pages [of errata] already.

The good news is that I'm mostly enjoying my own writing. I think Magda was able to insert a whole lot more structure than I suspected - or would ever would have included - since I tend to operate by the maxim that if I have to tell you what the points are, I obviously have failed to make them. . . .

I don't know where I got that idea, but I realize now that it has been firmly in place for a very long time. I intend to banish it, forthwith.

Much better just to tell people what the points are, rather than trust that they'll 'get it', if you just make the points as strongly as you can. . . . Of course, it doesn't make for very compelling writing, but then I need to decide whether I'm in the business of writing, or providing information - or something else, entirely.

All of that is way too egg-headed for me today.

The point is: I enjoyed the writing, I found enough typos to keep me busy, and I didn't mind the telegraphed plan of the dissertation. In fact, I found it rather reassuring to know just what it was I was going to talk about next - and why. [Doesn't that sound ridiculous? Yet it's true.]

It's a gray day. Warm. Warmer outside than inside this ridiculous rented house we inhabit. Yet it feels wasteful to open up doors and windows, as "the heat is on".

I'm waiting for a buddy and we're heading to the greenwood to talk about security systems. I'm also hoping for a walkabout, and then a pint after. Then - perhaps - I'll be in a proper frame of mind to resume the conclusion of chapter 2 and start on 3. Actually, chapter 3 is one of the 'fun' ones - insofar as you could count anything in a doctoral dissertation as "fun."

viva minus 16

I truly don't know where the days go.

Yesterday started great, but ended with a big headache. Still, as days go, it was a really good one.

What I want to focus on today is why "I knew you could do it!" can feel like the opposite of an "attaboy!"

On the one hand, it's nice that people have confidence in you. On the other hand, if everything you undertake is a 'done deal', then there's no sense of accomplishment. I think that this is what people tend to overlook when they say: "I knew all along there was nothing to worry about - you were just being ridiculous to worry so much!"

I'm not a worrier by nature. But this doctorate was - and is - no 'done deal', and I kind of resent the implication that it was/is. Even as I can also recognize that the people who so imply, probably do so under the [false] impression that they are thereby building my self-esteem by stating their supreme confidence in my abilities. It's a delicate balance. Confidence in the outcome, but still preserving the real challenge presented and the real precariousness of success! If success is a given, how can there be a real challenge?

I see that we're back to conflict, and the need for conflict in any compelling story. The trick is to somehow preserve the "I had no doubt" while at the same time being able to experience all hope fade.

Which leads me right back to the question of "faith".

I think I mentioned yesterday that we've been reading the book of Hebrews - chapter 11.

What is faith? It is the confident assurance that what we hope for is going to happen. It is the evidence of things we cannot yet see. . . . [keeping our] eyes on the one who is invisible.

Funny, because elsewhere it says that "without faith, it is impossible to please God", and I think that this is part of the same question I'm struggling with. Just maybe the other side of the coin. God wants us to have confidence in him, in spite of the real adversities; I'd like acknowledgment of the real adversities I've faced, in spite of my family's confidence in me.

[and OK, just so you know, it's my mother we're talking about here. As far as she's concerned, there was never any question at all about my ability to do this - her only question is why I've been dawdling so much, getting it finished.]

Like I said, it's a delicate balance. I could be facing the other side of the coin, the "I don't know why you even try, you'll never succeed!" Which reminds me of a favorite C.S. Lewis quote, to the effect that we are like the drunk man who climbed on a horse and fell off one side, and then climbed back on only to fall off on the other side. . . . There's plenty of room for error on either side of this narrow path!

it's my birthday

. . . and it's already been quite a day!

Somehow, my birthday has gotten shoved into the annual Superbowl gathering - which I really don't mind, as I enjoy football - but it can leave the actual day a bit empty, when the celebrations are already in the past tense.

Today has already been quite a day for me though. We started with the usual: coffee with the king (he added cinnamon - which he knows I love - as a special treat), and at some point the impression of Psalm 112 fixed itself firmly enough in my mind that I felt confident that that was what we should read together this morning.

Fine. Because other than that, we were about to take on the martyrs in the book of Hebrews [the second half of the chapter on faith, chapter 11. . . .] and I really didn't have the heart for that on this festive day.

Anyway - Psalm 112 was about the good stuff that follows from being on good terms with God. The two ideas that really stuck with me as 'for me' today were: "trust" and "you won't be afraid of bad news".

Very well then!

The first thing I saw when I checked email (beyond several birthday wishes emails) was an email from Magda. "First comments", it was entitled. I clicked to open it before I could work myself up into being afraid of bad news. Magda reports that the internal examiner told her that both he and the external examiner thought my thesis "very good." She wanted to pass that information along so that my viva preparations would be a bit more "light-hearted". . . .

So now I'm worried that once I get in there, they'll realize that I don't really know a thing and that this dissertation (which I have yet to re-read) was somehow achieved as if by dictation and that everything I wrote escaped my mind the minute it was put down on paper!

No - not really. But I have not been preparing the way I know I must, and this good news - although really good news - is not going to ease me out of preparations, it should actually make me work even harder. Now all I have to do is figure out where we are again on the countdown. That'll strike terror into my heart, eh?

Oh no, that's right: I will fear no bad news.

Isn't it strange not to be working out of fear? That doesn't mean I won't ever get bad news, it means I won't fear it. . . . Yet I realize now that fear has served as a major motivator in my life. What shall be the replacement, do you think? And isn't it funny how many of us work off of fear throughout our lives, and yet how often have I heard people claim to be turned off from God, because they're offended by talk of fear of hell. . . . or by a "religion" that supposedly tries to use fear as a motivator.

But is not fear almost the universal motivator? Think of our advertisements. What do they prey on, if not fear? Fear of death. Fear of hunger. Fear of growing old, getting wrinkles, losing one's attractiveness, being alone, smelling, having split ends or gray hair, being constipated, getting sick, having high blood pressure, low self esteem, losing erections, having a tree fall on one's house or car, getting audited - I mean, you name it! Even the Superbowl commercials yesterday can be traced back to fear. Bridgestone's screaming squirrel, and the tires that allay the fear of death and squashing a lovely furry critter. Budweiser's Dalmatian training the Clydesdale and overcoming a fear of failure. The laundry detergent (was it 'Tide'?) that presented itself as saving us from rejection and shame by silencing the "talking stain." Doritos' attacking giant rat. . . .

Fear and "protection". Start counting the number of products or services or companies that claim to "protect" us. At the same time, consider just what it is they would be "protecting" us from. . . . I've been amazed at the sheer protection racket going on.

Anyway - just to get back here: it's my birthday, and I'm a very happy prophet today. I trust God and I fear no bad news. I think I'll go to the greenwood and have a walkabout. At some point, I'll recalculate the countdown number - not because I'm afraid - but so that I can recalculate the work that needs to be done, and allocate the days properly.

I do hope that there's some champagne in my near future!

Many happy returns to all of you.

viva minus 22

I'm sure you've missed those count-downs quite as much as I did. So we're starting a new set - the viva countdown! oh joy. . . .

Can you believe this? Twenty-two days from today, I'll be in a conference room somewhere, with [a silenced] Magda at my side, the former head of the department acting as "chair", the internal examiner and the external one. We will do something for two hours, whereupon I will emerge either victorious or crestfallen. Or - possibly - devastated. . . . elated? or maybe something in between.

Thinking about it more carefully now, very likely I'll just be numb.

The good news is that my 'local' will be within spitting distance and I'll just bet that an expertly-poured pint will cure whatever ails me. The other good news is that I should be done early enough to get my favorite seat at the bar. Or - if I'm crying - Willie will let me into the snug (which will still be unclaimed that early) to cry into my pint in private. . . .

It's the little things that help cheer me up at this point. Like contemplating the symmetry of 20 and 2 days left. . . . And wondering where the hell I put my copy of the dissertation as - surely - it's time to read the thing for the first time, from beginning to end, and what if it's really terrible?!

I spent a little time this morning re-visiting the crazy days of the last countdown, the one before the dissertation was due. It all seems so unreal now. Almost as if another person did it. Just as I'm sure the viva preps - and the actual viva voce will also feel very unreal when it's all said and done with.

Meanwhile, though, I have a dissertation to read (and a list of errata to prepare), at least 2 new books to skim (if not actually read), and my main author's main book to re-visit in order to try and get the principles back into the working part of my brain, memory and speech pattern.

My vest is done - or the main pieces are, anyway. All that remains are the edgings for the armholes and the front where it buttons. But I don't like the edging the pattern calls for: it puckers, somehow, and looks wierd. Blocking might help, but that feels a little too much like cheating. You know, sort of like adding a whiz-bang production to cover up the fact that the song you started with is rather mediocre at best. So I've started a border of my own 'unvention' - yes, I've finally broken down and gotten one (two, actually) of Elizabeth Zimmerman's books. . . . - and we're trying out a separate band of cable as the edging. I'll let you know how it turns out.

My biggest regret in all of this is that I'm going to have to find the end of the one sewn-on band in order to try and rip it out. It's so hard to undo things, once they've been sewn together. . . .

general update

Sorry - I've been sick. I can't quite tell what it is, but I spent the day zonked out yesterday. Today, the constant headache has yielded to ibuprofin, though, and I'm feeling the wonderful feeling of no pain. It really brings home the saying that the one good thing about hitting yourself in the head with a hammer is that it feels so good when you stop. . . .

So for the most part I'm feeling so good right now, just because the headache has finally stopped!

Other than that, there's not much.

We're not going to SC today for the weekend. [long story - no inclination to tell it]. I have another resume package to put "out there" today - for a position in the "justice" business. . . . There's a legal case to get started. . . . And I have a kitchen to design and a construction site to go visit and [hopefully] a new roof to see.

I will probably also be finishing up the main bits of a cabled vest I started knitting a week or so ago. . . . Normally, I would go take pictures of the same just to have a bit of visual interest to this post, but sorry. Not today. Maybe later.

I started with the viva voce reading last night. One of my author's translators has written a "Guide for the Perplexed" book on him, and I thought it would be a great overview. It has been quite interesting. For one, he talks about how Ricoeur reacts against the Cartesian and Enlightenment system of object/subject thought by insisting on unique personhood, adding the element of action and the potential of capability to the philosophical equation.

To relent, I'll close with a picture of the vest. . . . as there seem to be no more words for today!

another word of advice. . .

My mother was on a cruise not too long ago while I was in the throes of final dissertation madness. [No, I didn't resent it. . . . not much. Ok, maybe a little. . . .]

Anyway, on that cruise, she happened to meet an Oxford don - as she insisted on calling him - a lovely, dapper man from Oxford, who sent me this advice about finishing my dissertation:

It's not as hard as you think.

I can't tell you the comfort I derived from those words.

I don't know this man, but I salute him. And I give fair warning: If I ever meet you, I will kiss you!

"just remember"

Somebody sent me an email with some words of advice and encouragement and I thought I'd post them here, in case they might also help out someone else going through the same rough stretch. . . . [thank you, Mr. RB, whoever you are!]

Just remember ... nobody knows *your* research more than you, not even your supervisor. Your external examiner(s) are experts in the subject, but not in your specifics.

Where there is stuff you don't know that's fine - you've followed a scientific method, you've observed then considered the results and if, justify, where there are blanks, [because] there are decisions that were made to get the work done within the time (after all, three years is too short!), so there's always future work!

It's all about small steps. Each of us takes one small step so that we don't over-stretch the corpus of existing knowledge, so each new piece of work becomes a brick in the wall and can be used in the future.

Worrying is a good thing, it just shows that you give a damn. Not worrying at all would be foolish! Your viva is a once in a lifetime thing :-) Enjoy it; you've done the hard work already.

My very best regards . . .

Sounds to me like he knows what he's talking about. Spot on advice!

Now all I have to do is remember it. . . .

OK then! Write it down. That'll help.

viva voce

okey dokey then. Here's the first real mention of the viva voce. Latin, for "live voice." It is the oral defense of my thesis.

Notably, there's not much written about this process that I can find. There's a very helpful presentation here by Dr. David Twigg, and a postgraduate discussion huddle and support group here that takes on the topic on occasion. I did find this posting which takes on the difference between American versus European vivas, and this one, which gives greater insight into the British exemplar, which is of particular interest to me.

I heard from Magda today. Finally. The examiners have accepted and should get the manuscript tomorrow. So that puts me into February for the viva.

Rear in gear time! Back to some serious reading. It might be time also to read the dissertation again. Again? Actually for the first time, all at one sitting, that is. . . . I fear the typo. Oh Geordie-Geordie do I fear the typo! I'm sure there's tons of them. . . .

Then there's travel plans to make and accommodations to secure. And people to alert that I'll be in town - for after the viva, anyway. Although I'll have to be there a few days in advance. The time change heading East affects me pretty heavily for the first few days. As in: I can't think or speak! Fine. I can drink pints.

But to sum up, I think I need to do some more reading in my main guy, just to keep everything fresh and accessible. I will also read the dissertation several times - ditto: fresh & accessible - and start compiling an errata. It might also be a good idea to start thinking about what I think the weak points are, as well as the strengths, and to be prepared to discuss those.

Still in the spirit of Rembrandt - above is his painting of Hannah, the prophetess. Reading. . . .