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I'm really dragging ass this week, which hasn't stopped me from drafting or reading - just finished a book on the creation of new media formats between 1740 and 1915, at my chair's recommendation, which was probably not worth reading in its entirity if I'd know where to look, but actually did fill in some important pieces for my writing on internet space being, well, not essentially Western but historically so - but, in any case, I'm not producing as well as maybe I could be.
Monday's medical news was all good. You could make the case that needing to hear a test result at all is the result of pretty piss-poor luck, but the result was the one we wanted. So, no cancer or anything like that. Everything's clear. Bueno.
I'm trying to journal more often. Daily, if it's possible. That doesn't always mean posts here, but it'll probably vary between here and my paper journal. It helps. It's a place to write something - often very little - that isn't my thesis. Academic writing has me very tired, and there's still more I want to do, but my ideas and even more elaborate thoughts slip out of my hands too frequently. Maybe I'll retain more if I write even more informally in journalling spaces. My drafting has become increasingly casual, almost slip-shod, but even when I send it to my chair, I don't get much feedback - a general direction, a book or author rec - which is fine. The feedback I do get is still helpful. I don't know what to expect, actually. I don't know what the general experience is with this. How hands on are people's thesis committees? Well, it doesn't much matter, I guess. Mine is pretty hands-off, so my new attitude is just... they get what I give them, and I get what they say in return.
It's been a long ass week, though. God, we had to go to dinner with Kay's parents for an anniversary thing on Sunday. It was... I don't know a better word for it. It was fucking excruciating. Like, it's a 30th anniversary dinner, and they're having it at O'Charley's, which I experience as a kind of Applebee's knock-off. First, if you're doing this kind of anniversary thing, don't do it at O'Charley's unless you're the kind of person who experiences the Wal-Mart shopping experience as boutique. Second, I generally don't expect to see an invite to something like this. Third, I don't generally expect this invite to be phrased as mandatory - "mark the day on your calendar and don't forget that the financial aid we gave you last time can be recinded in the future" kind of mandatory.
Wow, no thanks. We went. There were other guests who, largely, also fell under the umbrella of "unable to reasonably say no." It got weirder from there. I don't really have the energy in me right now to give a more detailed explaination, suffice to say that we recieved a call not just once, but several times, about out insufficiently glowing enthusiasm being the reason that Kay's mom drove herself to the emergency room declaring a broken heart, more or less. Jesus.
Got most of my good writing done while helping Kay do house-cleaning work for an aquaintence. This lady's ex-husband got busted for tax evasion. We got there and there were, like, five copies of a brand-new print on demand number sitting on the counter about how the tax system is failing. (I can't - or I'm not - willing to actually write the name of the book since that kind of tells you who's house we're at, which feels like invading privacy a little more than I'm strictly comfortable with.) I'm just like, "Damn, dude. How'd they catch you?"
Still broke, very busy, always tired. I really wanted to go to my friend's pool party today, but it was announced a few days ago and I just wasn't able to muster up the strength to get out of the house another day this week, and still feel like I'd be able to work fine tomorrow.
Monday's medical news was all good. You could make the case that needing to hear a test result at all is the result of pretty piss-poor luck, but the result was the one we wanted. So, no cancer or anything like that. Everything's clear. Bueno.
I'm trying to journal more often. Daily, if it's possible. That doesn't always mean posts here, but it'll probably vary between here and my paper journal. It helps. It's a place to write something - often very little - that isn't my thesis. Academic writing has me very tired, and there's still more I want to do, but my ideas and even more elaborate thoughts slip out of my hands too frequently. Maybe I'll retain more if I write even more informally in journalling spaces. My drafting has become increasingly casual, almost slip-shod, but even when I send it to my chair, I don't get much feedback - a general direction, a book or author rec - which is fine. The feedback I do get is still helpful. I don't know what to expect, actually. I don't know what the general experience is with this. How hands on are people's thesis committees? Well, it doesn't much matter, I guess. Mine is pretty hands-off, so my new attitude is just... they get what I give them, and I get what they say in return.
It's been a long ass week, though. God, we had to go to dinner with Kay's parents for an anniversary thing on Sunday. It was... I don't know a better word for it. It was fucking excruciating. Like, it's a 30th anniversary dinner, and they're having it at O'Charley's, which I experience as a kind of Applebee's knock-off. First, if you're doing this kind of anniversary thing, don't do it at O'Charley's unless you're the kind of person who experiences the Wal-Mart shopping experience as boutique. Second, I generally don't expect to see an invite to something like this. Third, I don't generally expect this invite to be phrased as mandatory - "mark the day on your calendar and don't forget that the financial aid we gave you last time can be recinded in the future" kind of mandatory.
Wow, no thanks. We went. There were other guests who, largely, also fell under the umbrella of "unable to reasonably say no." It got weirder from there. I don't really have the energy in me right now to give a more detailed explaination, suffice to say that we recieved a call not just once, but several times, about out insufficiently glowing enthusiasm being the reason that Kay's mom drove herself to the emergency room declaring a broken heart, more or less. Jesus.
Got most of my good writing done while helping Kay do house-cleaning work for an aquaintence. This lady's ex-husband got busted for tax evasion. We got there and there were, like, five copies of a brand-new print on demand number sitting on the counter about how the tax system is failing. (I can't - or I'm not - willing to actually write the name of the book since that kind of tells you who's house we're at, which feels like invading privacy a little more than I'm strictly comfortable with.) I'm just like, "Damn, dude. How'd they catch you?"
Still broke, very busy, always tired. I really wanted to go to my friend's pool party today, but it was announced a few days ago and I just wasn't able to muster up the strength to get out of the house another day this week, and still feel like I'd be able to work fine tomorrow.