There is hope after all.
Piles of books on history and anthropology on my living-room table can attest to that.
There is a even sunlight making its way through my basement apartment window.
And the birds are coming out of hiding and of silence.
With the birds, my 62-page proposal emerged from God knows where.
Yes, the dissertation proposal that is going to determine whether my program will go forward, or take me back one year...
Absolutely. That's the very same one I am talking about.
So, it took me three months, but I finished it yesterday and now am waiting for the verdict from my supervisor. In three weeks, I will stand before a committee of examiners who will probably rip apart every single inch of my proposal, and attempt to demonstrate my lacks and flaws...
But there is hope after all.
I mean, back in January, I had NO IDEA how to come up with 50 pages. Now I have 62 pages of tedious writing, research, analysis, syntheses, and arguments.
That is chapter one of my dissertation.
Four more to go.
mardi 24 mars 2009
lundi 26 janvier 2009
Tell me, who in the whole world, writes THIS SLOW?
I just spent the past 48 hours locked up in my apartment, eyes glued to my computer screen and buttocks literally numb from sitting on my couch... And for the past 48 hours, I experienced a kind of emotional yo-yo, thinking about missed deadlines and... the incredible speed of my writing...
Yes I said incredible. As in INCREDIBLY SLOW.
I mean, who else in this whole world, with this much education, writes THIS SLOW?
Tell me who can beat my 5 paragraphs in 48 hours?
So I told myself that if I said some prayers, meditated a little and brought in more green plants into my apartment, that perhaps, maybe and probably, my writing flow would be restored.
WRONG.
Every sentence I write, I rewrite twice. Then I read my paragraphs over and realize I am missing important and crucial references, which then require I go read and browse through another couple of articles... This is not counting the bibliographical entry attached to each reference I add to the text. Of course the writing is punctuated also by feelings of inadequacy about my other roles: single mother and housekeeper. Sigh.
Of course, trying to reach other PhD friends on the phone is nearly impossible as every single one of them seems to have turned into a turtle and receded into their shell.
Talk about a community of learning. Pfft.
So I end up staring at my computer and writing and deleting and cutting and pasting back, and spellchecking, and rewording, and deleting again. Going to sleep is another uncertain process. After brushing my teeth I realize oh Eureka, maybe I should have added this idea into the text, so I turn the computer back on. Only to end up feeling completely deflated once the Word document is open and I am suddenly feeling as uninspired as I was before I brushed my teeth in the first place. The great idea I just had in the bathroom? Well, it didn't look too good anymore once confronted to the 25 pages already written and looking back at me with... should I say, poise?
Sigh.
Anyway, I guess I need to get back to my writing. This was a nice break though. It made me feel useful.
Yes I said incredible. As in INCREDIBLY SLOW.
I mean, who else in this whole world, with this much education, writes THIS SLOW?
Tell me who can beat my 5 paragraphs in 48 hours?
So I told myself that if I said some prayers, meditated a little and brought in more green plants into my apartment, that perhaps, maybe and probably, my writing flow would be restored.
WRONG.
Every sentence I write, I rewrite twice. Then I read my paragraphs over and realize I am missing important and crucial references, which then require I go read and browse through another couple of articles... This is not counting the bibliographical entry attached to each reference I add to the text. Of course the writing is punctuated also by feelings of inadequacy about my other roles: single mother and housekeeper. Sigh.
Of course, trying to reach other PhD friends on the phone is nearly impossible as every single one of them seems to have turned into a turtle and receded into their shell.
Talk about a community of learning. Pfft.
So I end up staring at my computer and writing and deleting and cutting and pasting back, and spellchecking, and rewording, and deleting again. Going to sleep is another uncertain process. After brushing my teeth I realize oh Eureka, maybe I should have added this idea into the text, so I turn the computer back on. Only to end up feeling completely deflated once the Word document is open and I am suddenly feeling as uninspired as I was before I brushed my teeth in the first place. The great idea I just had in the bathroom? Well, it didn't look too good anymore once confronted to the 25 pages already written and looking back at me with... should I say, poise?
Sigh.
Anyway, I guess I need to get back to my writing. This was a nice break though. It made me feel useful.
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