About a week ago I (re)sent a draft of my prospectus to my chair. The feedback was that it was not okay and that maybe I needed to reschedule the oral exam. This news sent me into a tailspin as I was already away for the break and had no access to the resources (re: library books) I would need to consult in order to apply his suggestions. I replied that I did not want to reschedule. What would that mean? Exam next semester? Final graduation postponed another semester? No. thank. you. So, I mulled it over all week, and worked on it like crazy once I got home (before the second major snowstorm thankgoodness), and submitted it late last night. This morning, in my inbox, a very encouraging email about how great and how proud and how I can really pull it together in the final hour. He’s right. It *is* much better. This guy’s feedback really is top notch, and we’re going to work well together throughout this process, but it stresses me out nonetheless. So, I sent it to the rest of the committee, which means that besides grading, and an article I need to work on, and a conference proceeding that needs revised (significantly), and another "revise and resubmit" article, and documents to read from a job search committee I’m on, I had no worries for about a half a day today. It felt wonderful. I even watched a movie and baked pumpkin bread, which I’ve never made before and tweaked the recipe so we’ll see. It’s been nice. I only hope that I’ll be able to relax like this during Christmas break. Like, for the whole two weeks. That would be nice, and much needed. Especially before I launch into this whole dissertation business.
That thing I said about my clear complexion a few weeks ago? Ignore that.
I just made my own spin on an asian salad with cabbage, which I’ve been craving since the week before last, when my palate was whetted by a good one at the co-op. The trouble is that I just ate three, maybe four, big servings of it. This probably pretty much guarantees that I’ll crap my pants in yoga tonight.
We lost a family friend, my childhood friend, to suicide Monday night. Every time I call my parents or brother they are crying. That means they are crying all the time.
Someday I will be able to look back and see that once, in my late 20s, there was a brief period of a few months where I had a lovely, clear complexion.
I have not yet been weaned. That is all.
In my younger years, my experience was that each new love is more intense than the last. In my years dating "adults," that has not always been the case. (I’m talking about romantic, infatuated love here.) There has been C, E, J, J, I, (and then a mix up of several of them all over again: J, E, I, J, E, J, J, J and so forth) each with their own unique hold over me. And it was more or less love and I was more or less blown away with each new incarnation. Mostly, I recognize that I love myself, am quite selfish, and probably won’t really love another as deeply as myself until I reproduce, the pinnacle of narcissism (in my case it will be). I hold out hope for a good match and a completely distracting romantic love. Though none of these things have ever really all occurred at the same time with the same person for the long term, I believe that it is possible and would be nice to say the least.
There was a song that moved me deeply and I "dedicated" it to the other, who met it with no interested, not even the normal intrigue of having someone "dedicate" a song to you, which was so contrary to the assurance of being tangled under covers–new song on replay–marveling at how it had captured us so perfectly, and the whole episode left me deeply saddened and wondering why I participate in something that is so void of the many wonderful connections that lovers share.
I’ve backed away from creative writing in the past years because I have been pursuing a PhD to become a professor of writing. I am sure that this is what I want to do and consequently this program has been a joy, intellectually, and it is void of many of the dramas stresses of my first graduate degree. I’ve also been practicing and teaching yoga for several years now. I have taken to heart, sort of by osmosis, some of the philosophy and as a result have become increasingly uncomfortable with some of the most egotistical(?) elements of what creative writing was for me–a constant effort to describe my experience and express myself, present myself, and represent myself. I recognize that creative writing does not have to be these things, and once my PhD is over, I do plan to dedicating larger portions of my time and energy toward writing in a way that is not so saturated with…me. I’m probably failing to describe it here. Lets just say that I understand a little bit better what my writing needs to do. That is going to take some time and energy, and I’ll have to get back to it a little later.
Day 01 – Introduce Yourself
Day 02 – Your first love
Day 03 – Your parents
Day 04 – Your music
Day 05 – Your definition of love
Day 06 – Your hobbies
Day 07 – Your best friend
Day 08 – A precious item
Day 09 – Your beliefs
Day 10 – What you wore today
Day 11 – Your siblings
Day 12 – What’s in your bag
Day 13 – Your mode of transportation
Day 14 – Where you live
Day 15 – Your childhood
Day 16 – Your first kiss
Day 17 – Your favorite memory
Day 18 – Your favorite birthday
Day 19 – Something you regret
Day 20 – Your morning routine
Day 21 – Your job and/or schooling
Day 22 – Something that upsets you
Day 23 – Something that makes you feel better
Day 24 – Something that makes you cry
Day 25 – Your sleeping habits
Day 26 – Your fears
Day 27 – Your favorite place
Day 28 – Something that you miss
Day 29 – Your favorite foods/drinks
Day 30 – Your aspirations