don't blink. . . .

Yes, a salute. On video, no less! And yes, I see where the "MacDonald's" descriptive comes from.

yours truly,
prophet.

the end

Tomorrow, I leave for an undisclosed European destination where I will don Academic Regalia and parade to solemn music, line up in a gorgeous old-building-setting, and eventually walk forward when my name is called. I will return to my seat bearing a document of some sort, which I hope is beribboned, with stamped insignias and flowing calligraphy, on parchment.

Instead, it will probably be a cardboard tube, with a laserjet-printed A4 sheet telling me that my certificate, "suitable for framing", will arrive by mail in 30 to 60 days. This is Ireland, after all. They are not known for speedy anything, let alone mail delivery.

I had not been looking forward to this journey until I received the following email from a fellow postgrad, who was a year ahead of me:

Did you book your gown? A. calls it the "McDonalds" gown. Very apt really. Do take lots of photos and send us one. We should start a gallery, last year I know for the first time a photo of the Seniors was taken for wall hanging, just like the Medics do traditionally. So hope to catch up, and so happy for you. Well and done and enjoy the pomp and ceremony (there is lots of that, but you might be familiar having worked in Law?), it's well earned and it is quite a spectacle.

So who knows? Perhaps you'll get to see a picture of the little-p 'prophet' in the McDonald's gown. . . . What do you think?

Anyway - I am suddenly excited to be going, and that's a gift.

Yesterday, the bluebird of happiness came calling. I was sans camera, and didn't want to miss bluebird time to go get it so there is no photo this time. He sat on the back of a chair out on the portico. Then he fluttered up against the window. Then he flew to a hole high in a snag tree I'd never noticed out back in the woods. Then he flew back and fluttered at the window closest to me. Back, then, to his home.

I know now where the bluebird lives.

MDs and DVMs

Yep, I've been seeing both kinds of doctors - or, rather, the males in the family have been - which accounts for my silence for a bit.

Luther had some sort of gastro-event, and is on antibiotics and a "bland diet" [read: I make him brown rice and poached chicken breast].

The king might have diverticulitis.

Which was a bit of a relief to him, I think, because he thought it was either appendicitis or kidney stones. He's on antibiotics and a "bland diet - no seeds" [read: I'm still cookin' and a little sad that I might have to throw out my sesame seeds, celery seeds, caraway, cumin, mustard and fennel seeds! I like to use seeds. . . . and - oh no! - does Tellicherry peppercorns count as a seed?! Please, God, no! I can not cook without fresh, ground, pepper].

In my spare time, I make major decisions like what tile to put in the master bath [that costs how much a square foot?!], decide on the color of the stain for the book shelves, the wood floor, the timbering. . . . I'm still trying to decide on what light to put over the sink in the guest bath. . . . All those "vanity" lights are so depressingly uniform and kitshey looking

How do you spell kitschey. . . .? Kitsch/kitsh/what?

And the heat won't break.

Well, yesterday I committed to "doing the walk" - I'll be returning to Europe to have my doctorate conferred on me. . . . Officially. December.

Meanwhile, we're supposedly moving in just a couple weeks.

I gotta go pack.

in which it seems all our cars have to be replaced at once

Granted, my old convertible from my lawyer "golden days" has seen better days, and we had made the decision to replace it - eventually - with a nice sedan of some sort rather than spend the money needed to restore it. An '87 B-mer convertible is a great little classic car - but hey! - it's an '87 with hundreds of thousands of miles on it.

The king's jeep, on the other hand, we thought we'd be able to keep for a good long time. It's the bigger jeep - very comfy and very handsome - and Luther rides comfortably, so that was going to be my vehicle.

You will note the past tense.

When the 1987 raggedy-ass B-mer rag-top without air conditioning becomes the "reliable" car of the enterprise, the king steps in. The jeep is in for its last fix and then it's history. He had it a good 7 years, but enough is apparently enough.

To replace it? Probably another jeep. But a smaller 6 cylinder, this time. Or maybe a smaller Land Rover? But I've heard horror stories of the cost of repairs. I just think they look cool. Then again, I think the little Scion x-box guys are the cutest things going! Apparently, though, they neither get great gas mileage nor does their 4-cylinder engine give adequate power.

Bummer.

Well - we're on a mission. Input welcomed. Vital: cargo room for the beast.

sign posts

One of the writers I read identified shampoo and tortillas as the agents that brought it home to her that her husband would really be gone - deployed - within a set period of time.

My husband isn't deploying. But he is going to lose one of his teeth, and I'm unaccountably depressed over it.

The fact that my brother is deploying - on Friday - might have something to do with it; I don't know. That, and the fact that I've realized that - after 50 - you have to make the conscious decision to stand upright, or you gradually don't stand upright anymore. You slowly slide into a slump.

I've been in a slump.

Funny how certain things just hit you up the side of the head and can send you sprawling. It is the king who has been suffering from tooth ache - not me. But I'm the one who's all depressed about it.

I don't get it.

I need some sleep.

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.

another day. . . .

Wow. Coming back to life again. Slowly.

I took the weekend 'off'.

Emancipated Son #2 was in from London (arriving the day before D-Day but not dreadfully underfoot until D-day, but after I'd finished printing, which was a good thing). So that meant that Emancipated Son #1 and wife were here Saturday and Sunday - and they're all heading out with the king and my dad for a round of golf this morning.

Meanwhile, construction in the woods kicks off today: the bulldozers arrive. I had to go to the woods on Sunday to discuss if there were any trees in the LOD ("limits of disturbance") that could be spared. . . . I felt like an executioner. I did manage to save like 4, but my favorite beech grove took a big hit. It will be painful to see.

Funny how that works though. That you have to raze what was there, before you can build anew. Not that I'd want to talk too much about Foucault and 'deconstruction' - because that guy just drives me crazy - but even Hannah Arendt notes that human creativity is done in violence. Namely, the violent 'fashioning' of something into something else. Consider the 'making' of a table, for example. It includes within it the chopping down of trees and planing of wood and cutting to size, etc., etc. (redundant 'etc.', I know. But it doesn't sound as good, otherwise).

So, too, to build a house, you have first to score the earth to make a solid - uncluttered - foundation.

I don't have to like it, though. Even though I know it is necessary and will work out for 'good' in the end. . . .

Still trying to figure out what life looks like now, post-dissertation. I'm not completely out of the woods, insofar as I have to get ready for the viva voce. . . . and have to stay sharp. Actually, there's some more reading I need to do on Ricoeur. Magda, bless her heart, told me to take a few days off and enjoy, but then to stay sharp and keep reading. The really cool thing was that she also said that she could really see how the paper came together, at the end. It feels good to think that I may have won her over . . . and if I've won her over, maybe that means all will be well also with the examiners! I hope.

Anyway, I'm not borrowing trouble here. I'll keep reading, and re-read the dissertation several times before the viva, and then go in and pretend it's like an appellate hearing. This, I know how to do.

I also get to read some non-philosophy - what a treat! My friend Nonessential Equipment posted a list of her favorite 10 books here, which got some of her buddies to post 10 of theirs, and there's so many books I've never read that sound so wonderful! Today, I think I'm going to sit down and figure out my favorite 10, but also start a book pile for regular reading again.

What a concept.

In the meantime, there's laundry, ironing (so that's where my 3 favorite shirts are!!!) and thinking about starting to pack for Florida. Wedding. sigh. and I have to hem a gown.

And before I do anything - send email to my Dublin runner to sort out final details of binding & turn-in instructions. It may be off my plate, but it's actually not across the goal yet! That happens tomorrow. Lord willing. . . .

day one

I almost don't know where to start.

This is like my 100th post and I'm down to the LAST DAY of work on the dissertation. I'm glad I did the postings. It's helped me get a handle on what I was doing and what still had to be done. It also puts 'time' into the equation of getting a big task done. Time transformed into narrative. Which, when all is said and done, is pretty much what 'life' is: time transformed into narrative. (by means of joy, hunger, experience, suffering, beauty, hope. . . .)

sigh.

I'm feeling quite quiet. There is a lot still to be done, but I am very calm about it. I got through all of chapter 5 last night except for the part on "hope and meaning". And that part took me a long time to write, too, as you may recall. . . . Now it looks like much of it will be cut. It's just too much here at the end. Plus (and this is good) I've really already made the point I wanted to make in previous chapters. So I don't need to re-invent the wheel.

More good stuff: Magda really seems to 'get it' now, here at the end. She's not fighting me with where I'm going in the Introduction and Conclusion. I think that may be part of why I was so resistant to writing it: in the past, whenever I've tried to talk about my take on what the problem was, she has moved into her perception of where the problem - and possible solution - is. Although we both admire Paul Ricoeur, we do so for different reasons. It took me some time to figure this one out.

Her final email - returning her comments on the Conclusion - was "Again: well done. Good luck with the printing."

Now let's just hope it flies. I have several large hurdles to go (beyond the physical bit of getting the thing turned in): one, the difficulty of the inter-disciplinary approach wherein my primary academic credentials lie in a discipline other than the one I am submitting in; and two, the American versus Continental issue. And that second one is a bigger problem than many people would think.

But first: finish the task before me. For today:

1. Ruthless edit of 'hope and meaning' section of chapter 5.


2. Incorporate Magda's comments to Intro and Conclusion (actually, I think I'll do this before I do chapter 5, because it'll give me a handle on the really important big-picture points which will help me not care so much about cutting confusing clutter in the more detailed bits. . . .)


3. Check footnotes throughout.


4. Check formatting - titles, etc. - for consistency


5. Adjust pagination start numbers for each chapter


6. Print out one copy (American letter size)


7. Go through and check footnotes with Bibliography entries (and correct)


8. Go through and correct Table of Contents to reflect actual final headings and page numbers


9. Final spelling & grammar correct (to whatever level that's possible)


10. Print out 2 copies on A4-sized paper and package to go to Dublin. (oh - and make cd copy of files to go with him, just in case. . . .)

OK. This was maybe not such a good idea. Figuring even just an hour for each task - which is a pipedream - that's 10 hours right there. sigh.

It's gonna be a LONG DAY. And a LONGER NIGHT. . . .

But no. It's good to know what needs to be done. Now the trick will be to transform it into manageable bits, rather than staring - transfixed - at the HUGE AMOUNT THAT NEEDS TO BE DONE like a mouse hypnotized in front of a cobra.

Run, prophet, run!!!

and get to work.

an' a two. . . . an' away we go!

I slept through the housekeepers' ministrations until the end of the vacuuming which I think has got to be some kind of record. I've been apologizing to them for weeks about the mess I have everywhere, but this is the first time I've required them to work around the wreck that I am, with my butt still in bed! Man. They're the greatest. I have now 3 work sites that I rotate between, although the studio worksite has kind of been out of the loop all summer as it gets too hot in there. But it's still a wreck. It's a wreck just about everywhere, except - mostly - the living room. Oh, and the guest bedroom. And the kitchen and bath are nice again now, too, thanks to our very dear friends the housekeepers. Oh yay!

I've promised them that things will be different next week.

Main work site these days: dining room. Large table covered with papers. Stacks of books on the sideboard. Baby mac manfully soldiering on at the head of the table minus his battery and needing a $900 part.

Amazing.

Chapter 4 re-write: [finally] done.

Intro: done!

Summary: oh yeah! done. . . .

Conclusion: right. need one of those. check.

Title: sort of done. First half done. Fiddly bits after the colon still being rearranged. I did get up last night before I fell asleep and wrote down something that sounded good at the time. . . . Must go into the studio and see what it was. Maybe we have a title.

And Magda wrote this morning (I sent her intro and summary last night, hoping she'd have a chance to disembowel it within a day or so) saying she was relieved to get it, and would have it to me by tomorow morning my time. Which is as good a turn around as I could hope for!

Confession time: I have no idea what I wrote. It sounded all very good as it came gushing out through my fingertips and I intoned the words as they appeared on the screen.

Actually, I think I do that most times. . . . now that I think about it! [talk out loud as I write and type, that is]

By the way, thanks Nee and Lee Anne for the 'go-get-em's, it really does help! I can't quite figure it, but it does.

Time for a bit of tea and then it's. . . . hm. Conclusion, I think first (so I might be able to slide that past Magda as well) and then the chapter 5 re-write. I have the luxury of being able to cut up to 7,000 words!

I do feel decent today. It's a gray day, with a bit of a chill hidden around the edges. A squirrel outside has taken alarm over the cat and is doing the wierd squeeze box cough and squeeze-toy sound. Meanwhile, Puss is at my elbow, complaining at the insults.

Emancipated Son no. 2 arrives from London this afternoon - impeccable timing - for a wedding this weekend. I should probably set up shop upstairs at the second work site in the bedroom. That's actually a favorite place to work: it's on a beautiful round table the king bought years ago, sitting at what looks like a big throne chair. An old trunk is next to me in a little window alcove, and that's where my pot of tea can go, together with papers I need to be able to lay my hands on.

Anyway, father and son will undoubtedly have much catching up to do, so I'll try to positioned up there as of, say, 3 this afternoon. But then I have to move down here again once everyone goes to bed. (Just in case you were thinking: 'why doesn't she pick a spot and stay there?!)

So - enough of the trivial details, I think. I can feel tension in my shoulders - perhaps a bit of a stretch through the garden before I really get to work. It looks like it's going to rain soon, anyway, so this would be my last chance today.

Bother, the hiss in the tree leaves tells me it just started to rain. . . . oh well.

3 - three - drei - tres - trois - help

three days left.

the headache is FINALLY gone - for now.

I have: intro & conclusion to write, chapter 4 re-write to finish, chapter 5 re-write, title selection, and then fun and games with pagination, table of contents, and printing.

Then personal hand-off to friend leaving for Dublin on Friday - including taking him to airport.

Then: collapse.

I predict: serious fall in standards ensuing almost immediately.

Second: loss of extra four pounds plus another 4 as my throat closed yesterday.

Finally: serious sleep deprivation (as if I could sleep!), but I just hope that my mind stays with me. More important than the mind is my source. . . . Father please don't leave me. You got me into this! I know you will sustain me. The part of the 'acknowledgements' that made me cry yesterday was when I realized I had not acknowledged God. . . . and the words of Jude came to mind, which is how I was able to incorporate thanks to God in a way that I hoped would not make the academics nervous:

To Him who is able to keep me from falling and to present me before His glorious presence without fault and with great joy - to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen.

Although it undoubtedly will still make them nervous, in spite of the fact that this is theology. . . .and - hey! - Scripture. That shouldn't be too scary, eh?

Facing the intro/conclusion again today. Oh help.

four - meltdown. . . .

computer wouldn't turn on. Migraine set in. Nausea. Followed shortly by tears. I spent the day in bed. Till 3 - then to the Mac shop. They gave me a new battery, which I can't use until they replace some sort of board they've ordered that costs almost $900. (Luckily, I THINK it's under warranty; no one's said anything about me paying that and I think they would have mentioned that before they ordered it. . . .)

It appears that I can continue on the Mac so long as I don't put the battery in. There's something wrong with the battery and the power circuits that connect that in to the computer. So: there you have it.

And I guess if I'd done this sooner, the part would have been in by now and my computer would have been humming right along, rather than limping. Although you just know something like this is going to happen at the end like this!

The tension is nigh unbearable and I can't shut myself down. I'm hating life just now. At least these next few days.

Oh - and we signed the contract to build the house today - having gotten building permits [finally!] last week.

I'll think about that later.

For now: I don't know whether to re-write chapter 4 or try again to write the intro and conclusion. And I still don't have a title.

I did draft the 'statement of my own work' that was required, as well as the "Acknowledgements" - and managed to print that out on the A4 paper. And that made me cry some more.

The king is worried.

I'm exhausted.

I know I'll get through this, but I've never felt quite so stretched thin before. What's most worrying is the betrayal of my body. It's not possible to think when you want to take your head off, it hurts so.

minus 7 - 'come on lucky 7!'

No. . . . not a gambler. . . . really!

But I guess I am betting that I will finish this dissertation by the end of the 7th day.

The Housekeepers were early this morning. The king was trying to entice me out of bed with a cup of coffee and warnings that I would otherwise have to face the Housekeepers still in my jammies when we heard the water running downstairs. . . . They were here already, and he had yet to put his own clothes on, himself!

Fastest shower I've taken in a while.

I'm still not feeling well. "Women's complaints", you know, not to indulge in too much information. I feel flattened, lethargic, and very, very, heavy. It's hard to lift my hands. And I sigh a lot. Yes, pain.

I got almost through the chapter one re-write yesterday, though, and was terrified to hear the ping of an email that turned out to be from Magda. . . . Chapter 5 was back. I think I'm getting used to her language. Or maybe I'm just so worn down nothing bothers me anymore? Anyway, I felt vaguely reassured by her email, which - although it did say things like the chapter "fizzles out", doesn't have a "tight enough structure", and needs to be "ruthlessly chopped", it also said things like "good in a lot of points" (and there's at least one "very good" in the comments themselves), and it concludes with "you've certainly read a lot and worked hard, and there are only a few more overviews needed to tell the reader what you are trying to show in what follows."

Oh, and she says she'll be "glad" to get whatever else needs to be reviewed - and good luck during this last week.

My interpretation of that - after these last months - is: "good stuff. I can see you've worked hard. Here's what will make it better. Don't bother with this, this, and this - you don't need it - here's how you might pull it together. I'm here for the final stuff, too, go get 'em!"

Although she would never say words like that.

[so, while I was typing this post, I got a response from Magda to my response - with loads more info, a suggested title that's good! and yet another article, with the comment "not that you have time to read. . . ." funny.]

The king is off doing battle with the bureaucrats. The Housekeepers expect that I should chill a bottle of something for a celebratory dinner. Right. Celebrations are on hold. But I'll be happy if the king comes home with the building permit. Otherwise, he's likely to come home with an unsavory attitude. . . . and I hate it when he's frustrated. We really have run up against every possible obstacle you can think of - and several you probably never would think of - to building this house. We had hoped to be in the house by now; we haven't even broken ground. We haven't even gotten the building permit!

What the hell is going on here?!

So we do think things like: Is this really what we're supposed to be doing? Maybe there's something else out there for us, and all these stumbling blocks are trying to point the way to that.

At the same time, we remember that we started out on a certain course of action, and nothing has really intervened to make us think that we should change that. The only thing that's happened is that we've come up against obstacles. OK. So we overcome the obstacles. And that's what we've been doing. For quite a while, now!

But I have to get back to re-writes. I'm glad I've taken some time every day to chronicle this slog. . . . but I need to make sure that the chronicling doesn't get in the way of the slogging. Whoooopah! [crack that whip] Back to work.

minus 9 - single digits (yikes!)

Well this picture will wake you up in the mornin', eh?

I feel good today.

Pretty good, anyway. Good before I think about it. . . . Here's hoping that thinking about it doesn't change the feeling good! grin.

OK. It's a gorgeous day: so that's good. And it's on the cooler side: check, good. (at least as far as I'm concerned and - as I've had occasion to say several times this last month, anyway, right now it is "all about me - all the time", and when you're writing your dissertation and you're in the last weeks of turmoil, then it can be all about you! Deal? Deal. . . .)

But back to the "good" checklist:

Citations done through Chapter 4 - check, and good. This also enabled me to spend some time with the king, as the work was conducive to couch sitting and football monitoring at the same time. Very fun!

I like football. American football. With the funny-shaped ball. It's splendid background to wonderful foods, and friendly banter and comaraderie and working on a quilt or knitting something. . . . and it's chilly out and maybe we could start a fire in the fireplace. Love those days! So I was glad to get a little football in this week.

And I also got a bit home-made soup in: threw some together as comfort food for myself, as it looked ike the king was going to have to do a bit of the social-scene-mandatories on his own yesterday: kind of a command performance, but he decided to bail and stay at home with me. There are so many people who think we're slugs these days! Oh well. . . . . So we dined on our favorite artisanal baguettes, chipotle cheddar cheese, and a hearty steak, potato, mushroom, and assorted veggie stew, I guess I should call it. And that's what was missing! Garlic. I can't believe I forgot the garlic! Ach. . . . Well, it was still delicious. (and I knew I liked Nee when I read her comfort food recipe, here, which features - features? nay! stars - garlic! How could I forget the garlic?! sigh. . . .)

Some other 'good' stuff: A4 paper arrived from Ireland, I have been able to format my docs for the said paper, and the king has determined that the printer not only will admit to taking A4, but will cheerfully improve its printing quality to more than what's required for submission. So this first round I can print myself, looks like, rather than worry about internet file transmissions, trying to get everything onto/into one doc file for the printer in Ireland, and then actually trusting them to print and bind, sight unseen.

So I think this is very good.

Well, it's just after 10 and really time to be moving on the work at hand. Life has changed a bit the last week. I'm finding that it's easiest to work late at night. I don't worry about where the king is or when he's coming home, as he's upstairs in bed. So I don't keep looking out the window whenever I hear a car (and yeah-yeah, not too many cars late at night, either).

I've been trying to get at least 5 or 6 hours sleep (and you're talking to the sleep queen, here, so you need to read that with new eyes, to see the UTTER DEPRIVATION that ONLY 5 or 6 hours of sleep means to me!), and the king has not been waking me for our usual time in the mornings even when I ask him to. I feel a little bad about that. But we do get our time in the evenings over dinner and a glass of wine, so I imagine this might have to do for the next 9 days.

Because the fact of the matter is that I don't get that much done when he's home and rambling about. Or rather I should say that it's easier when he's not rambling about, but instead all tucked into bed. . . .

But this is much better than being off on my own, which actually is an option for me: lucky me! My parents have a little townhouse about a half mile from the beach which - now that it's cooled off - they won't go to quite as much. I had been trying to hole up there this summer, but what with weekend comings and goings, and my back-and-forthing's, it really got to be more of a hassle than a help. And these last few days have shown me how much I've come to depend on my husband, if only to run up to him for a hug and nuzzle.

This is new, you need to understand. I've only been married a little over 2 years and I was single for a good long time. . . . Really used to being on my own. I was actually worried that this 'togetherness' thing would wear on me!

Anyway: I just know how much harder this would have been all alone. I really don't know that I could have done it. The king, of course, just keeps saying: "Of course you would have. You're the queen!" in that very confident way he has.

All I can say is that I'm happy I didn't have to test this. It's been hard enough as it is.

So! I'm expecting an email from Magda at some point, re: the last chapter. Yes, that was bit of adrenaline fear I experienced, just saying it. At some point I think I still expect her to say that I might have a better future in parking enforcement. . . . (yes, I think I've mentioned that before. sorry. but it's true.)

And at some point I really must write the introduction and the conclusion. Talk about doing things backwards! Everyone says you write the conclusion first, then you write the papers, then you write the intro.

Not me. I wrote the paper. Now I'm trying to figure out what it says - and means, big-picture-wise - so I can set up an intro leading to the conclusion. Foolishness? Or faith? I guess the jury's out.

Don't tell anyone.

minus 10 - the chant begins

We've had visitors all weekend. Emancipated son #1 was here Friday night and left Saturday after lunch; friend of mine arrived Saturday late afternoon and is still here. I have done some work, but not as much as I could have. Maybe should have. UNDOUBTEDLY should have.

Yesterday, I was manic. Today, quieter. No, not calm. But quiet. No, not sense of despair or doom - that was at 5:30 this morning, when I did not get out of bed to work. I stayed in bed even past the part where my body physically hurt from having been in bed too long. 10 hours. That's enough rest, surely?

For today, I plan to get a handle on the citations. I've got my Turabian Manual for Chicago Style and we will have to master that and get started with the formats. I'll start with Chapter one.

Other than that, I think the plan has to be to try and add additional elements where and when I can, hoping that the cumulative effect will be a production of some light - if not dazzling. . . . To that end, perhaps I can learn from the prism: many different faces, facets, and aspects - all of which reflect and give the impression of light, if not light itself. . . . But if there is any light there atall, it will magnify it. Maybe that's the best I can hope for.

minus 12

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:

king:

"Were you serious when you said you didn't know what the point of your dissertation is?"

yours truly:

"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.

the unkindness of ravens

They have taken up roost in the trees around my porch and call insults to one another. At least that's what it sounds like to me. It could very well be something else entirely:

"Hey - good move on that landing, buddy! Your tail feathers look good in that configuration."

"And you!!! The way you found that bug was nothing short of amazing. I can't believe you shared. Ravey, you rock!"

"Guys? Let's not forget old Sage over here. He's the one who's been finding the best conference roost trees since before we were hatchlings. I say Caw! Caw! Cawraw to him!

I wonder why we have 'murders' of crows and an 'unkindness' of ravens?

There are more questions today than answers. Why can't I soar above and get a raven's-eye-view over where I've been and write about it? I don't know. But I finally gave up, for now, anyway. We're back on the ground, digging in the dirt, looking for edible bugs. Once I get the last chapter at least drafted, I hope I'll be able to see just where it is I've been.

In the meantime, I'm trying to take all of Magda's comments as kindnesses, no matter what it sounds like. It's a postmodern thing, I know, but for today I chose to make my own meaning. Whatever works for me. . . . after all. Here's hoping that it does work!

In the meantime, a sketch from yesterday. The ants have just about emptied the hummer feeder. And I'm off to get a big gulp of whatever it is I can find to carry back to the dissertation today. I'll drop it there, and go back for more. I've got one month and 4 days. The countdown to hell is about to start. Actually, I think it just started. . . .

good news - bad news

I hate it when people ask me which I want first, so I'll cut to the chase: the bad news is I still have some 20K more words to write. (This, in spite of the guidelines that say the dissertation should be 'concise' and that there is no minimum word count. . . .)

The good news is I have been reading about The Introduction (10% of the dissertation) and reviewing comments (now that I've stopped crying and can actually see - just kidding) which consistently ask for more summaries and forecasting introductions (which could take up another - say - 5K words, all told), leaving me with just the final chapter I've been agonizing over and some fill-in-the-blanks where Magda has surgically removed anything of current interest to anyone from existing chapters.

OK, OK. . . . she's not that bad. Actually, I begin to suspect that when I hand this in, my acknowledgments thanking her are going to be of the very, incredibly, sincerest variety because I begin to suspect that she is being my lifeline here and I've just been too dumb to see it.

So: this weekend is the Introduction.

Last night, I went through chapter headings and subheadings and looked at my outline and made some rather significant tweaks and it's actually looking somewhat coherent in a way I did not intend when I started this. (which is a scarey thought).

The other really cool thing is that this morning I woke up and had in my mind my next project - which is what I will need if I intend to continue on this research/writing sort of thing - and which fits amazingly well with a position I read about a month or two ago, was interested in, but couldn't figure out why they might be interested in me. I think I've figured out, now, why they would be - or at least why I hope (dream?) that they might be. . . .

I find this 'next step' aspect really encouraging, because I've been stuck so long on the current step, I'd lost all vision for the 'what next?' - the 'so what?' It's amazing what I'll put myself through if only I have a larger goal!

And now the really good news - in an immediate, shallow sort of self-gratifying way - it's after 5 pm, which means that the Oktober Fest down the street is in full swing and the beer is cold and the band is hot! (if you like oompah. . . . ) So I think it's time for a cold one; meet the neighbors; grab a wurst; try to talk some trivia.

and now a word from your sponsor

Stay tuned for further hair-raising, hair-pulling episodes as Prophet pulls through the final stages of finishing the dissertation.

Prophet is working on the overview this weekend, so wings are back on and she's soaring overhead, looking down. (Remember the scene from The Crystal Cave where a young Merlin learns about maps? Think that.) No boundaries, just the view of the roads already established, natural barriers, silly routings and dead-ends.

Once the journey has been charted - start here; end there - we'll follow her as she translates it to paper. Next week, we'll see how that mapquest plays in Peoria - OK, not Peoria, but overseas in Europe, which is even more exciting - and we'll see how she fares at the hands of Magda.

THEN - oh you're going to love this! - we'll start the countdown.

31 DAYS OF HELL. Take the amount of work still to be done, divide it by 31, and you can see the daily dose.

Tune in. Do.

. . . .here's wishing I could tune OUT. But hey! here, it really IS "all about me." That's the hell of it. And now, just for fun, a song from Chess that somehow came to mind from the earlier talk about maps and borders. . . . "my land's only borders lie around my heart." (aren't you glad I learned how to post videos? grin. . . .)

so much for that. . . .

OK - comments from chapter one are in.

I don't think it's good. I'm told I am not using enough secondary sources and I have been assigned one more book - a primary source - which has finally appeared in English. Oh, and that in some instances, the 'debate has moved on.'

This is not good. . . .

I will order the book, but won't look at the comments until I've finished and sent the last chapter. Otherwise, I fear I'll never finish.

I'm a LITTLE DOWN. Can you tell?! *sheesh*

off with its head!

Chapter 3 is done and sent. Chapter 4 is decapitated.

The main point seems WAY too simple now, having made the mistake of doing just a little more literature review and finding more. Stuff that's not exactly on point, but talks about similar issues and some of the same writers. . . . Stuff that would take me months longer to get through in order to deal with. Months I simply don't have.

OK.

Can you say: "This is distinguishable?!"

There now. That wasn't so hard, was it?