Writing

As you all know, I'm working pretty hard on the diss. Watching movies is still fun—we saw Yes Man last night—but writing isn't so much fun anymore.

This is to say that I might take a little break from the blog. Otherwise, I'll just use it as a forum for complaint and self-doubt. Which I'm feeling a lot of lately.

{sigh}

There are days when I think that writing a dissertation is beyond my ability. This is one of them.

More news

So it turns out that I only need two signatures for my proposal, which means they can approve it next week, fucking finally. So that's great. Also great is that my DGS and my committee got together to scrape together some funding for me for the fall!!! It warms my cockles to think that they just went and did it. Also, I turned in a draft of my introduction.

So now, the writing must really begin. 

Also, kudos to Sam for being so supportive by watching some Stan Laurel with me. Thanks, baby.

To chortle

When I read scholarly texts, my standards for what is funny become much lower. Anything resembling humor becomes a welcome relief. Take Gerald Edelman's rendering of an apparently old "joke":

A race track . . . was failing financially. The track management consulted three experts: an accountant, an engineer, and a physicist. The accountant recommended restructuring of the balance sheets; the engineer suggested that the slow track could be fixed by slight banking and better drainage. When his turn came, the physicist went up to the blackboard, drew a circle, and said, "Let us replace the horse with a sphere."

The joke structure is there: A reasonable premise—racetracks fail, I guess. An unusual assortment of people—who calls a physicist for advice anyway? The progression—first one, then another, then the [and I use this term loosely] punchline. 

I admit that it made me chortle, which word by the way Lewis Carroll coined, as a combination of chuckle and snort. I guess some logicians are funnier than others.

New Outside Reader

On a dissertation committee in my department, you must have 3 departmental readers and 1 reader outside the department. My current outside reader is a poor soul in the Art Department, but my project has evolved to the extent that it is well afield of what this woman knows.

So what's a person to do? Reach out. I wrote an email to the author of my currently favorite scholarly text and asked him to be my reader. And, folks, he said yes!

I'm not especially good at this sort of thing, so I'm pretty excited that Dr. Singer agreed to participate. He said that my project "looks very interesting," and he thinks that it'll possibly help him prepare for a course he wants to teach. All to the good. 

Picture pages

The baby

We have a 7.5-week-old baby cat. [Picture to come.] I'm pretty sure that he's a boy, not that it really matters. He's fast asleep on his back, head lolling carelessly, in my lap. I know that all kittens are cute, if only by virtue of being tiny, but this kitten is no bigger than a coffee cup. Every visible part of him is gray, except his pea-sized pawpads and the inside of his ears. He's brave and curious, and he tends to fall off of his perch when he's trying to pounce on something that moves. 

We were going to name him The Artful Dodger, but although he dodges sometimes, he is in no way artful about it. So his new name is T.S. 

Nora gets really excited about him, and they're on the verge of cuddling while sleeping. Jane is taking the addition remarkably well. She hisses and growls when he gets too close, but she doesn't generally take swipes at him. 

The problem is, as I see it, he's so fucking cute that it's hard to get work done. He's either trying to play with the pen I'm using, or he's purring loudly in his sleep. It's a real problem. Thanks, Sam.

A little back patting

Today I was thinking about what I've done during the past three months since I've been out of the hospital. It's not a long list, and it's not in order of importance or date, but it means something to me, and I thought I'd share it with you. [I know that's totally a run-on sentence.]

• I found a psychiatrist and a psychologist. They make up my international mental health team.
• I renewed my commitment to Sam in front of our families and closest friends. It was awesome.
  
• I presented some of my work before an audience of my colleagues, and I got thoughtful questions that showed they were listening. I was (this part is important) able to answer them. So there.
• I made out the checks for my hospital stay, the ambulance, and another mental health bill. Get this: there's a Vanderbilt Medical Group and a Vanderbilt Medical Hospital, and they both billed us. And riding in an ambulance is not nearly as cool as one might think but it's also less expensive.
• I applied for and got student loans, a labyrinthine process.
• I gained a little weight, but it's not meds weight, so I'll be able to slowly take it off.
• I got a new tattoo. 
• I started working on the diss again. Although I sometimes panic about my topic and its scope, it's good to be seriously working again. It's especially good to be working in a healthy way, without mania.

So that's my list. I don't feel that productive, but looking at the things I've done makes me realize that my therapist is right: I am getting stronger.

Awkward

I'm so glad you all came to our renewal celebration. I'm sincerely grateful to have you as friends, and I love you all. Sometimes I feel awkward in expressing my emotions, but I'm working on that. It's a lot easier to use allusion as expression. I'm great at showing love through the words in other's works. 

So, a short poem by Thomas Lux. This one's for you, Sam:

I Love You, Sweatheart

A man risked his life to write the words.

A man hung upside down (an idiot friend

holding his legs?) with spray paint

to write the words on a girder fifty feet above

a highway. And his beloved,

the next morning driving to work. . . ?

His words are not (meant to be) so unique.

Does she recognize his handwriting?

Did he hint to her at her doorstep the night before

of "something special, darling, tomorrow"?

And did he call her at work

expecting her to faint with delight

at his celebration of her, his passion, his risk?

She will know I love her now,

the world will know my love for her!

A man risked his life to write the world.

Love is like this at the bone, we hope, love

is like this, Sweatheart, all sore and dumb

and dangerous, ignited, blessed—always,

regardless, no exceptions,

always in blazing matters like these: blessed.

 

Menu

I've been working on a loose menu for Saturday--hard to believe it's almost here--and we're having fish and pork, with a couple of dessert-type things that I'm getting at Marché. I know I've talked to some of you about bringing side dishes, and it would be great, fantastic, really, to get some contributions. We're going with a contemporary American style, so nothing especially fancy. Here's a list that might inspire you:

• Cheese and crackers, dip and crudités, or some other kind of appetizer thing
• Artichokes
• Asparagus
• Pasta for a potential pasta course
• Potatoes or rice
• Salad
• Spinach

These are just a few seasonal ideas I've hard, but I'm in no way committed to them. We're having 22 people, and it's my hope that we'll experience what I'm calling "the pot-luck phenomenon," in which people bring the amount they want to and we end up having more than enough.

 

Just let me know in the comments section here what you'd like to bring (if you're planning to bring something, which don't feel pressured to do so at all), and it'll be like a conversation instead of a blind groping for a plan. Finally, it would not be a tragedy to have more than one of any dish. 

Thank you, our friends.

Addendum: Many of you are already playing another role or bringing something else--please don't think of this plea as yet another thing you feel you should do.