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Originally uploaded by Librarienne.
Could there be any more Halloween-perfect food than beets? The long root looking so much like a rat’s tail, the dark red juice, the rough skin that has to be peeled off… surely, this holiday was constructed around this vegetable. Hallowbeet.
… originally posted at The Reading Chair…
I went to a Dissertation Writing Workshop a couple weeks ago. I’m not writing a dissertation, I don’t know when I will, where I’ll write it, or even what discipline I’ll be writing it for. But I knew from the workshop’s description that it would not really be about the content of writing per se but about the process – which can be applied to anything. Also, I wanted to meet people who were writing their dissertations and find out what they were talking about, worried about, stressed about, happy about.
The workshop satisfied all of those expectations. It left me with plenty to think about in terms of my own writing habits. I was reminded of it again this morning while listening to NPR’s Weekend Edition – there was an interview with Frieda Lee Mock who just made the documentary about Tony Kushner, Wrestling with Angels. There’s a clip in the trailer of Kushner talking with high school students, one of them asks him if ever gets bored with writing. He answers, no, he doesn’t get bored, but he does hate writing: “my hand hurts, my back hurts, I get a headache…” and yet there he is in the next clip “The Playwright”, bent over a notebook scribbling his next play/screenplay across pages and pages. A crazy-lookin’ mug on one side and an artist’s roll filled with pens on the other. Writing, writing, writing.
And I thought to myself, Tony Kushner must follow all those guidelines that workshop guy told us about… he must keep a writing schedule, must have that desk set aside solely for writing, must ignore all phone calls, emails, etc. while he’s in his writing hours. That must be how he does it. (But, of course, I haven’t seen the movie. I have no idea how he does it.)
Then I start to examine my writing habits… again. You see, I keep re-examining them, because I haven’t really developed any, so every week I have a different writing place/time/method. I need some writing habits – good ones – I’m sure that would help. This weekend I was going to try the “reward yourself” tactic. After getting a few hours of work done, I would reward myself with a walk down to a great little organic cafe downtown where I would still be productive, technically, because I would be bringing articles with me to read there.
But is that really wise? It would take me over half an hour to walk there, so over an hour round trip. Then there’d be the time to get settled, get a drink, get focused. Wouldn’t it be better if I just stayed here in the office at home where my stuff is already set up and ready to go, I just have to do the focusing part?
And that’s the hard part. I tell myself that home is where the distractions are – the cookbooks to browse through for dinner, the photos to organize, the CDs to burn, the papers to file, blah, blah. I tell myself that getting away from home and home’s distractions will make everything better, make writing easier. My inner gagged-and-bound common sense tells me that distractions can be found anywhere when you’re looking for them. And yes, I’ve been looking for them. I’m not happy with my seminar paper’s topic anymore, but we’re halfway through the semester so I don’t feel like I can change it. And I think the biggest reason I’m unhappy with it is simply that I don’t know how to structure the paper, otherwise it would be fine. There isn’t really a literature review of previous studies for this topic, and I’m so used to using that kind of thing as the opening foundation that I don’t know where to start without it. I’m such a Westerner. Get creative, Scholar, jeesh. Just write a paper already.
Update: Shortly after writing this post, I was sidetracked again with yet another project that wasn’t really necessary but seemed like a really good idea at the time (see “inner gagged-and-bound common sense” from above). So I printed off the articles I needed, left the goshdarn computer at home and went for a lovely, absolutely lovely, walk downtown. Results: articles read, can’t use ‘em for the paper. But the walk was well worth it.
I don’t carry any sort of music player around with me, although I used to and sometimes really wish I had something to block out certain sounds and certain voices. But I also like eavesdropping, and it’s terribly easy to do in this day and age. All the conversations spinning around us – on cell phones, on the bus, on the sidewalk. Lately the conversations have been obsessed with the weather, and every year I have to laugh at this. We all know the seasons. We all know what to expect. Yet every year I hear people talking to each other (usually native to the area, mind you!) about how unseasonable the season is. For instance, it’s October. It’s getting cold. This surprises people. I start to wonder about our short-term and long-term memories, for while the body is shocked by the change in temperature, the mind remembers many winters and these same conversations will invariably bring up the winter of (insert year) when everyone went ice-fishing or the winter of (another year) when flowers popped up in December.
Does the short-term memory of the body override the long-term memory of the mind? I don’t think so. I think the conversations I hear about the weather are attempts by people to cover up the pleasure they feel in remembering / rediscovering the season. Even though I can’t remember where my gloves are, I am thrilled by the leaves on the ground, delighted that my breath turns frosty, pleased to see Orion in the early morning, and terribly excited to have butternut squash soup again.
As my birthday is one of these days this week, I decided to celebrate it on this blog with my one grey hair, as seen above in the reddish tint of our bathroom light. I’ve been looking forward to grey hair for a long time already. I had hopes for distinguished streaks at the temples, with perhaps a witch’s streak through the bangs. This one lonely hair on the very top of my head isn’t quite what I expected, but I know there will be more to come so… why rush it, yes? All the same, I can’t help but wonder how the rest will come… gradual salt’n'peppering evenly dispersed? sudden thick swaths of grey all together? and the wiry kink of this one grey hair gives me hope that I’ll finally get that thick mass of wavy/curly silvery locks that I’ve always wanted. I see a lot to look forward to in this grey hair.
O ne of my personal mental tricks, whenever I’m fretting over a silly mundane decision, is to ask myself, “What will this matter ten years from now?” Sometimes I only ask about five years. Either way, I find enormous comfort in having no idea whatsoever what we’ll be doing by then. Lori will probably be in the middle of her phd… and I’ll be… working? getting another degree? both?
I like looking forward to the older me, but I also wish I could get some preview into what the older me will think of this current me. Will she be satisfied with everything the current me is doing? Will she remember any of this? Will she look back on this time in Chambana with some sort of weird retrospective misplaced nostalgia? God help her. And may she have great hair.
The last 24 hours have been the first day that I’ve actually liked Chambana for its own sake, not just the school. I’ve seen a terrific performance, done the Farmer’s Market like a regular, stopped in a few downtown shops, and now I’m walking through beautiful autumn scenery. Only took four months – not bad, really.
Always look on the bright side of life..
Originally uploaded by Librarienne.
You know how one sad thing can color everything else? I’m trying not to let that happen right now. The why and wherefore are all explained at Lori’s new blog – projectblu.wordpress.com – for many of you that title might already give you a good idea.
