the life of the mind, sans glamour
I am turning this chapter in this afternoon, come hell, high water, or (more to the point) life-threatening boredom.
I have written, and written, and written, but I'm not sure I've said very much. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), at this point I don't really care.
I've been having trouble organizing it all, as I always do, so yesterday afternoon I printed out the whole thing and cut it into individual paragraphs. (This took a while.) I've spent the morning sorting them into piles by argument and sub-argument. This is sufficiently mindless work that I have been able to put music on while doing it (mostly dance and electronica) in a thus-far vain attempt to keep my energy up.
I'm now at the point of deciding on a logical order for the piles, to be followed by arranging paragraphs within the piles and sticking post-it notes where I need to write connective material (or, more likely at this point, write a note to my director saying I know I need connective material and promising to take care of it later).
I have been delaying this for weeks, but - let's face it - I am not getting appreciably smarter as the days go by. I'm tired, my brain feels like a wrung-out dishrag, and I need the rest of the week for spring cleaning.
Also, a big group of my former students have invited me to the potluck they're having tonight, and if I don't turn this thing in beforehand I can't hang out with them with a clear conscience and a free mind. I'm not going to be any fun for them if I'm as sullen and irritable as I am right now, and the only thing that's going to fix my mood is wrestling this chapter into some semblance of order and turning it in.
So here I go.
I have written, and written, and written, but I'm not sure I've said very much. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), at this point I don't really care.
I've been having trouble organizing it all, as I always do, so yesterday afternoon I printed out the whole thing and cut it into individual paragraphs. (This took a while.) I've spent the morning sorting them into piles by argument and sub-argument. This is sufficiently mindless work that I have been able to put music on while doing it (mostly dance and electronica) in a thus-far vain attempt to keep my energy up.
I'm now at the point of deciding on a logical order for the piles, to be followed by arranging paragraphs within the piles and sticking post-it notes where I need to write connective material (or, more likely at this point, write a note to my director saying I know I need connective material and promising to take care of it later).
I have been delaying this for weeks, but - let's face it - I am not getting appreciably smarter as the days go by. I'm tired, my brain feels like a wrung-out dishrag, and I need the rest of the week for spring cleaning.
Also, a big group of my former students have invited me to the potluck they're having tonight, and if I don't turn this thing in beforehand I can't hang out with them with a clear conscience and a free mind. I'm not going to be any fun for them if I'm as sullen and irritable as I am right now, and the only thing that's going to fix my mood is wrestling this chapter into some semblance of order and turning it in.
So here I go.