Sunday, July 27, 2008
"You May Say I'm a Dreamer..."
"A dream is just a dream. A goal is a dream with a plan and a deadline."--Harvey Mackay
Tears of frustration were shed this week. Twice. For 10 minutes on Tuesday morning, I was rendered in a sobbing fetal position on my office floor, just for the hell of it.
The good news, however, is that tears as a result of feeling entirely overwhelmed were only shed once this week. On Wednesday. Kind of a like a passing New England summer rainstorm. Again, for the hell of it.
Tears of fear concerning my academic debt and unknown future? Nearly shed-- but let's face it--that one is so played. Perhaps I could shed a tear for my indifference to my unknown future at this moment, but I would rather be writing...
Number of total words written this week: 2,876. They say that this is "a lot". I see it as paltry. Negligible at best. I see it as a drop in the ocean, but try to remind myself that it is one drop is more than I had a week ago. I also try to remind myself that I have re-read countless number of articles in addition to writing this week. Yesterday, my pen and post-it tabs swallowed yet another scholarly book.
I sometimes have to force myself to leave the house. Otherwise, I am entirely too comfortable reading horizontally in my lounge attire of tank tops and boy-short underwear. I shower and shave occasionally. I sometimes remotely ponder what to do with my shadowy mane of hair. At the moment my long hair serves as my only reminder that my youth has not been forsaken. Once upon a time, my hair was my amulet of sexual power. Now, since its renewal, it just serves as a friendly reminder of the woman I was once in a state of becoming in contrast to the woman that I have since become.
The writing persists, and the thinking never stops. Even in dreams, I am thinking. But the good news is that I am sleeping better. This may sound like a complete contradiction in terms. This is because I have begun doing yoga again. The nice man at the yoga place is only charging me $9/class.
Maybe one day I will long for a return of these halcyon moments of solitude when all I did one summer was write a doctoral dissertation in my underwear.
Oh, and in the meantime, I am neglecting to mention that in my moments of procrastination, I have renewed my fiendish love of music. I woke up singing John Lennon this morning. I made a cup of tea, sat down, and here we are.
As I write about war and the continuing violation of life itself in Israel-Palestine, I find it necessary to take the time to indulge in the small comfort of hope...
...hope that I will finish this darn writing thing sooner or later.
...hope that I won't crash and burn in the face of another long semester of teaching ahead of me.
...hope that when the time comes to go abroad again, I won't still be the veritable shell of myself that I have been since last October...
...and hope that all of this time spent writing about the world will actually matter to the world...
ps: I love the way that Yoko opens all of the windows in this video. It is so subtle (and seemingly bizarre), but there would be no light if she didn't do this. I am a big fan of people who know how to let in the light.