See, the thing is, I wish that the news about my committee changes and losing the Advisor would actually spur me to some sort of progress. I’m definitely feeling the pressure to finish, sooner than later. I’d agreed that I’d have a complete draft by June, and a couple months ago, that looked totally manageable.
But I’m not feeling motivated. I’m not feeling like I could just sit down and crank out the diss right now. I’m feeling completely paralyzed, in fact.
I am going to bullet-point the factors contributing to my paralyzing depression, because it seems like that might be cathartic. (Feel free to go somewhere happier, if you just can’t take my bitching anymore.)
- I sent two chapter drafts to the (Ex)Advisor (who now needs a real pseudonym) last month. I have not heard a peep about either of these. I assume this is because they suck *so* badly that he can’t even think of a way to start an email (other than “Wow, you suck”), and so he’s just laying low.
- I sent the same two drafts to Other Committee Member, and have not heard a peep back from her either. Ditto above.
- Getting absolutely no feedback on these drafts makes me think that they are just about as awful as I thought they were. And it really does not make me want to continue writing.
- This chapter I’m supposed to be working on? It’s crap. I mean, even the outline is crap. I have nothing useful to say here, and I’m hesitant to start saying it.
- I also have, still, nothing but my own data for this chapter, and (still) no idea how to include anything more substantial.
- In 6 days, I will be 20 weeks pregnant–officially halfway through this pregnancy. I feel like I’ve already been pregnant for about three years. I cannot imagine going another 21 weeks. I can’t imagine continuing to get bigger (yes, I know–a LOT bigger), or my hips hurting even more than they do, or these goddamn dreams (that make me feel like I’m not even sleeping) continuing for another five months.
- Moreover: I am so not ready to be a parent. Who the hell am I kidding? I love sleeping. I love drinking. I love having no responsibilities (except to the cats, but they’re pretty easy). So I am simultaneously totally impatient for, and totally dreading, the arrival of this baby.
- I know. Totally cliche. Ambivalence, check! But I am seriously feeling Ambivalent with a capital A. Oh, and Terror with a capital T.
- I’m lonely. I’m bored with my company. I’m tired of sitting here at the computer, “working” for about an hour a day and doing absolutely nothing for the rest of the time I’m awake. I’m tired of obsessing about the baby.* I’m tired of not meeting people, of having no human contact all day (except over the phone and the internets, which is nice, but not quite the same), of being all clingy and needy when GB gets home because he’s the only person who talks to me in person all day.
- Last night I dreamed that we were about to move back to SF, and it felt pretty damn good. Yes, most of our friends there are Big Drinkers, and may not be the perfect companions right now for Unwillingly Sober Me, but my city! And friends! Ah. It sounds heavenly.
- Of course, moving back to Hometown State sounds completely heavenly to me too, right now.
- Okay, this is not cathartic. This is just whiny. I need to work. How the fuck do I get back to work? I can’t just write this chapter…I have nothing to freaking write. Goddamn. I need to bust out of this rut.
*In happier news, we have a baby name! Actually, we’ve had it pretty much since the beginning–it was our first choice for a boy’s name. We considered a handful of other names, but we’ve circled back around to the original, and I think it’s pretty definite–I’d say it’s about 98% sure that this is the name we’re going with. Which is nice, because I was getting tired already of calling him “the baby”. Not very creative. If anyone’s interested, I’ll try to find a way to discreetly point you to it.