No defense

So the day before my defense was scheduled, my advisor called me to say that I wouldn't be able to defend, even though he's been reading my work the whole time. He suggested that the committee meet as a group anyway, which we did. It was pretty awful to have 4 people tell me what's bad about my work for 2 hours.

So now I have 4 more months and another 150 pages in which to get this thing into the shape they want it in. I'm so tired of writing, but I'm determined to see this through. I just don't know how I'm going to do it.

The situations this puts me in are terrible. Now I have to find a job (fast) that will give me benefits so that I can continue to take my meds. As you may know, Sam has been laid off, so I can't go on his insurance anymore.

Plus, now I don't have that lectureship for the fall that I was planning on. No teaching for me for a while. And I love teaching. Wish me luck in writing and job-finding.

I submitted

I submitted on Friday. It's out of my hands now, and I have to figure out how to prepare for the defense, which is in, like, 2 weeks. But no more writing, no more revising, no more worrying about when my submission was going to be.

It's in and now it's on.

Revision stage and some whining

I mean, massive revision stage. I have less than a month to rewrite several parts of my dissertation. My advisor said that at this point the diss is undefensible, which is pretty scary news, and we're going into triage mode. I mean, I've been working on my introduction revision for the past week, and that's only a start. I haven't even begun the conclusion.

so my timeline for the next three months is:

May: massive revisions

June: waiting with baited breath until my June 23rd defense

July: more revisions with a deadline of July 20 to get everything in to the graduate school. Provided that I pass the defense.

I really though that Paul wouldn't let me schedule a defense date if he didn't think I could pass, but I guess I was wrong.

finished another rough draft

So I've finished another rough draft. I'm up to 3 chapters now, with two revisions yet to do on 2 of them. But I finished another rough draft, so that's something.

Anniversary

From W.S. Merwin:

On the Anniversary of My Death

Every year without knowing it I have passed the day

When the last fires will wave to me

And the silence will set out

Tireless traveller

Like the beam of a lightless star

Then I will no longer

Find myself in life as in a strange garment

Surprised at the earth

And the love of one woman

And the shamelessness of men

As today writing after three days of rain

Hearing the wren sing and the falling cease

And bowing not knowing to what

Sam's trip to Boise

Sam's trip to Boise has been way too long. First of all, I love him and miss him.

But second, my computer died on Thursday. Time sink eliminated. So I read a thick novel I bought several months ago. 950 pages took me until last night, so I'm glad that my computer was finished today. For almost $750, they replaced the logic board. I was considering simply buying a new computer altogether, for an extra $350, but I'd have to buy a lot of proprietary software that would have been lost in the shuffle from the old computer to the new. And the new ones don't come in black. (That's the definition of superficial, so let's not spend too much time thinking that one over.) I'm not sure how I feel about my decision. But it's done, and my security blanket is up and running again.

Now I have to grade papers and clean up the house.

update on the diss

Here's the deal. I'm writing my chapters out of order, purposely. Chapter 2 needs some revision work, but apparently, as Paul told me on Friday, Chapter 1 just needs a quick spin around the block to get some kinks worked out. Now I'm drafting Chapter 3. Well, not right now. It's due at the end of January, but I'm pretty sure I can bang it out by the end of this month.

He also thinks that this thing could be 150–200 pages (rather than the 250–300 pages he mentioned in the past), and he suggested that I address only works in the silent period. So we're looking at about a total of 6 chapters with an afterword to sum everything up. The goal now is for me to defend (i.e., to answer lots of hard questions during a 2-hour period, which I dread) in July and graduate in August. These are goals I can meet.

Have to say this

I have to say that I'm disappointed in all of our former friends. I think the whole let's-not-tell-Sam-how-we-feel behavior is not just wrong-headed, it's hurtful. If you think that Sam's drinking too much or that he's mean when he's drunk, tell him directly, as a true friend would, instead of talking about him behind his back. It's group-think of insidious nature. It's the behavior of people without integrity. It's cold.

I also want to say that I'm put in a bad spot. I can't be friends with people who treat Sam with such disdain for his friendship. I can't believe that people who showed up for me at the hospital have cut me out, too.

I know I'm being a hypocrite for not saying this directly to the people I feel are responsible, but I'm afraid I can't do it without an anger that would be counter-productive. I'm being as direct as I can, in a space I feel safe enough to comment. And it's not like anyone's talking to me, either, anyway.

I'm deeply disappointed and, well, shocked that people I thought were friends could simply cut Sam and me out so cleanly and efficiently. It's upsetting, and it makes me feel isolated. So if that's the desired effect, consider it accomplished.

I just have to share this, even in the ether, so to speak

From Beckett's Molloy:

"Chameleon in spite of himself, there you have Molloy, viewed from a certain angle. And in winter, under my greatcoat, I wrapped myself in swathes of newspaper, and did not shed them until the earth awoke, for good, in April. The Times Literary Supplement was admirably adapted to this purpose, of never failing toughness and impermeability. Even farts made no impression on it. I can't help it, gas escapes from my fundament on the least pretext, it's hard not to mention it now and then, however great my distaste.

"One day I counted them. Three hundred and fifteen farts in nineteen hours, or an average of over sixteen farts an hour. After all, it's not excessive. Four farts every fifteen minutes. It's nothing. Not even one fart every five minutes. It's unbelievable. Damn it, I hardly fart at all, I should never have mentioned it. Extraordinary how mathematics help you to know yourself."

Weird

It's weird that I haven't posted since July. I bet these words are just floating around without any readers.

Anyway, it's late for reading other people's lousy essays about genre, so I thought I'd update a little before bed. Sam and I have been thinking about the upcoming holidays, and people in my group therapy have been talking about their plans with families. I have to say, it gets me down. If it weren't for my alienation from my parents and Sam's fissure with his brother, if it weren't for the fact that we have no money to travel, if I had the time to take a break in my work, maybe we'd get some plans together that don't involve just the two of us having dinner at home. Who will eat the two pies I make each year? We have such great memories of recent Thanksgivings, and the true sharing among families and friends. Although last Thanksgiving could have gone a little more smoothly, I admit. Maybe the two of us, the turkey and a couple of pies will warm our home just fine.

Also, Sam got this kick-ass tattoo. Maybe he'll show it to you.

Also, I'm working on Chapter 2. Maybe I'll get this damn thing done after all.