I got those dissertation blues, baby
Nothing left to lose.
I got those dissertation blues, baby
Nothing left to lose.
So apparently I'm writing a dissertation of some type on American literature. OK. It'll get done, at some point. I'm really rolling downhill at this point anyway, with a partial chapter and an introduction to write...maybe 80 pages total left to go. Note to others dumb enough to enter the humanities: it's easier to write a dissertation without children than with them. In fact, I'll go so far as to say it's easier to write a dissertation if you're a sad and lonely social misfit holed up in your basement apartment eating ramen than if you're in a fulfilling relationship.
Tonight, however, I'm putting these worries on hold as I visit the 9:30 Club to watch Son Volt. Maybe a little pre-show bracer at the Velvet Lounge, maybe not.
After that, I promise, I'll work a bit...
4 comments:
What's the dissertation topic?
Thanks for putting a positive spin on being a childless, sad and lonely social misfit. I knew there was an upside somewhere...Maybe I'll buy a dingy basement unit. Or a garret. I hear garrets are good for writing, too.
If only Ramen was low-carb.
And what's this with you going out again, Mass? You might not want to promulgate this. No parent I know leaves les enfants for more than oh, 12 hours cumulative in a 6 month period for fear of Social Services stopping by to investigate allegations of neglect.
I know, I know...twice in a year is really too much, but hey, it's OK. Usually we just pop a DVD in and set it for continuous play and leave the kids alone, but we thought we'd go official tonight.
As for the dissertation, it'd be interesting to know the topic, wouldn't it? Uh...here's the short answer: Left Reactions to Nationalistic Discourse in the 1920's...Or to be slightly more long-winded: how did the small magazines of the Left conceive of the nation in the face of a racist nationalism?
I remember this process well. The day I had to go forth with my dissertation and pass through all of the levels of defense and clearance (sounds like a military action, doesn't it?), I wasn't even thinking clearly anymore. I can't remember how many people had to approve me (starting with my Mentor and ending with the Dean of the Graduate School I think it was four,) and any one of them could have shot me down, and I'd be back to the paper.
What I do remember is this: I came through the process, stopped off to pass on the good news to a friend working at the University, then I clearly remember standing out in the courtyard at what should have been the pinnacle of my educational experience. I remembering thinking, "I am so burned out, I can't even enjoy this. I am numb." Ah, academia. Ah, memories. ;) You'll get through it. Trust me.
Some of the best writing in history was done drunk. You should be good to go tonight.
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