I think this is funny, for several reasons:

1) I keep forgetting that I finished my PhD.
2) I keep forgetting that I wrote a book-length project since,
I’m sure, no actual publisher would want to touch it because:
It sucks; they made me take out the good stuff and tone down the language of the whole text to its anemic state.
It’s philosophy, let alone American philosophy.
It’s hateful.
3) It sounds like I know what I’m talking about, that it’s in print somewhere. But, I, er, don’t.
4) It’s just funny. I wrote a little book about hating, and now it’s embarrassing.

Went through the defense.  Committee suggested some clarifications, treatments, etc., including fixing my “tone,” which some considered “flippant.”  Upon revising it, I realized they were actually right about that.  Not a big deal.  Everyone has to make some changes after a defense, I’m told.  My director called me “Doctor.”  Some of the changes took me a while because I wanted to make sure they were right on the first try, and some took less because I already had the research.  No one asked any of the questions I thought they would, though.

Nonetheless, the most unpleasant thing about my entire PhD program was over.  But, with Baby on the way and the official electronic submission deadline looming, this meant that I was MIA for a week and half.  My life was:

Wake up.
Work at job.
Dissertation at lunch.
Work at job.
Go to market.
Make dinner.
Work on dissertation.
Bed.
Repeat, and, on weekend, replace job work with housework, laundry, a food drive, etc.
(Also insert people being so disrespectful as to demand my time, knowing full well what was going on.  I’m very generous with my time, I think, but I needed it this week for myself and my family.)

None of this was good for my sanity, though it’s been incredibly beneficial for my work ethic. As in, I have one now. I finished revising the dissertation and making all of the changes Saturday. Since then, I’ve been painting, caulking, cooking, shopping, cleaning and organizing in preparation for Baby.  It’s non-stop, and I haven’t been online much, save a little on Facebook.

Last night, I had to take apart my [cheap] caulking gun because I bent the innards. Damned spring shot me in the freakin eyeball which, as you can imagine, hurts like hell today. Doesn’t look as bad as it did yesterday, though.  Still, it calls to mind certain episodes of “The Simpsons.”

Now I’m working with my director to get it all final and done and gone.  It feels too good to be true, and it hope it works.  Because once Baby is born (any day now, literally), I don’t want to have to work on this ever again.

Then we went to the bloodlab, where we spent about four hours.  It was hot, close, and you could feel the frustration from people over the waiting.  The nurses didn’t think Mama looked good.  So we got to wait behind a curtain after the first hour.  Before that, I finished Into the Wild.

We had lunch, which was heaven after we’d been fasting for the testing (I fasted, too, for sympathy).

Came home, did laundry, got an email from my dissertation directory asking for my bibliography.  Scrambled to get that put together and was up late going through all of my footnotes to make sure I didn’t forget anything.

Meetings and “official” stuff already all day today.

My blood sugar is all over the place from fighting the urge to give in to stress.  I’m so tired that I feel like throwing up, but I’m having trouble sleeping also.  I have something huge going on tomorrow (if all goes as planned) that I don’t want to jinx too much by talking about.

But soon, none of this will matter.  Baby will be here.

Almost definite.  As in, we’ll book a sleeper on the Capital Limited by the end of this week. We have to confirm with Mrs. P’s committee that they’re ready for that week. And I owe my director some edits on the last third (which I can do in a day with enough coffee). And also, there is room for “comments” from committee members in the time leading up to February 16th.  I am tired of editing the damned thing. But. At least the end is in site. And at least I won’t have too much trouble remembering what it says when I get asked questions about it. We’ll spend Valentine’s Day either en route to Carbondale, in Carbondale, or perhaps even in Chicago, depending on when Mrs. P’s defense is and when we can get into town and all that.  I had sorta been hoping for one last romantic V-Day before we become parents, but this is great enough news I think.  I’m not sad at all that we will no longer be “just” a couple next year.  There’s a lot of love to go around in our home.

I met with my director in November in Washington (took the train down one Friday morning) when he was there for a conference. He promised we’d work this out. He also lightened my spirits by telling me that the defense, in our department, is “celebratory.” That is, it’s finished and a done deal before I get there. The trouble with that is that you don’t get a defense until it’s perfect. Ready to go. I enjoyed myself that morning because my director is a very nice person with whom I have a good bit in common. We took a nice walk on a beautiful day around the Capital, and I ran (literally) to get my train home in a very good mood.

I finished my draft in summer 2007. I didn’t ever look at it until March 2009, when I did some proofreading and sent it after my bike accident in like late April or early May. Asked about maybe a July defense. Then everyone got busy, and nothing happened. When we found out about Baby in August, I emailed my director to see about scheduling, and there was a good bit of suggestions, including tying Emerson into my work. There are worse assignments than having to read a bunch of Emerson, I joked.

Then part one of three took a while to get in shape to everyone’s liking. Part two is Nietzsche, and my director is not a Nietzsche guy. I have some comments to work on for that part, but the Nietzsche guy they brought onto the committee hasn’t had a look yet. That scares me a little. The rest of the comments for the last part are in the mail, too.

So, my director told me to “bug” him as much as I had to when I met with him in November. But I don’t like to do that to people and especially not to people I like, like him. But I did yesterday. I flat out asked for a date. And, he gave me three days in February he thinks would work, and one specific date at 3:30pm (Central Time) that he is shooting for. He’ll get back to me when he gets confirmation from the rest of the committee.

So. Holy shit. I didn’t realize how much this was hanging over my head! We played Scene It? (Simpsons Deluxe Edition) until late last night and slept until 10:04am (our anniversary), to a sunny day and a big Baby belly.  I couldn’t remember why my mood was so light!  Whenever I think about how long we’ve been back in Baltimore, it’s tainted by my dissertation still hanging over my head, driving me crazy.  It almost makes me feel like a failure.  I never thought I wouldn’t finish, but I never realized that a good number of the people who start PhD programs don’t get to the prospectus, and a lot of them never finish it.  Yikes.

I’m still nervous that the Nietzsche guy is going to go nuts over my Nietzsche work.  But, well, if he does and if the date is set, that simply means that I have to pump up on coffee and do whatever he suggests.  Simple.  Easy, no, but it’ll get done.  While we’re not traveling to my favorite place or for my favorite reason, we are traveling.  And I do love that.  Won’t get to do that again for a long time.  And, next time, we’ll get to show Baby the train and how fun it is.

And I can’t believe that, with it being a possibility for so long, I’ll actually be Dr. Johnny officially when I get my diploma in the mail (can’t take that trip with a newborn to walk on stage, but I won’t care with Baby here anyway) in a few months.  Wow.  I think I need a new nickname on camping trips/cycling.  Dan mentioned Doc once, and I like it.

On the up-side, I spent lunch-time today reworking some dissertation stuff, so that I am doing my part to get that sumbitch defended before Baby comes.  Still, I am increasingling tired of looking at and thinking about this thing.  Changing language around, etc.  I was talking with someone today about publication.  Well, he was talking about me doing some publishing.  And I had to say, “Hell no.”  I don’t want to look at that thing for some time after I defend it.

On another up-side, when work and other people get to me, I think that, in one year, I’ll have a beautiful Baby and my PhD.  The stress to get there becomes obviously worth it, from that start — not just in hindsight.  I remember what Nietzsche said: “He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.”

I think I forgot to mention that the second ultrasound was Okay and normal and good.  There are a few small issues with Mama for which there have been some prescriptions (and prescriptions for the problems that prescriptions caused).  But, so far as we can tell, things are going well.  Morning sickness is over, and Mama has her energy back.  Coming up: 20-week blood tests and the Big Ultrasound wherein we can (hopefully) learn the gender!

I’ve been busy with work and planning the memorial ride for the gentleman who was killed in August.  That accounts for a lot of my time.

I’ve also been pulling my hair out about getting my dissertation director to schedule my defense before my wife’s too preggers to travel.  On one hand, I really like the guy and probably have a close philosophical kin in him.  On the other, it’s frustrating to be at the mercy of other people’s schedules and thereby tempted to push them — hard.  I mean, I’m certainly willing to piss people off if I have to, but not until I have to.  Especially not people that I like.  That accounts for much of my sanity.

We’ve also learned that the pregnancy is not without events.  On the ten week ultrasound, there was some bleeding under the placenta that only showed up on the U.S. but shouldn’t have been there.  Our doctor scheduled another for early last week, and it is still there.  The ultrasound technician said it’s something to monitor but not necessary worry about unless the bleeding gets larger.  We haven’t spoken to our doctor since she got the report, however, and it’s worrisome.  It’s also worrisome, to be blunt, when people who you’d think would be concerned are not, or, at least, don’t show it.  Mrs. P. is also on some medication, and that’s never fun.  That accounts for being emotionally dissinterested in blogging.

Excuses, excuses, I know.

Anyway. School work. It usually happens that I do all my reading. Research. Notes. Outline. Bam, I sit down and write a seminar-length paper in one sitting, that needs minimal editing. My secret is thinking about it for a long time first, so that I really am only going through the formality of typing and composing actual sentences around the cute aphorisms I’m storing in my brain.  Really.  I’m so lazy and have so much trouble paying attention to anything that I have trick myself into working.  No shit.

I tricked myself into cranking out incredible amounts of work today leading to a robust introduction and first chapter of my dissertation.  I found delicious kernels of Pragmatism not only in Emerson, but also in Thoreau.  Textual references that are not bullshit and mis-quoted and taken out of context.  So instead of beefing up the scholarship on my definition of Pragmatism by quoting James scholars, I found a dialogue between Peirce, James, Emerson and Thoreau on the relation of thought and action.  Delicious.

I don’t know why I’m writing this.  I’m exhausted and just enjoyed a nice beer and should be reading a trashy novel before hitting the sack.  I suppose it’s largely because I spent the last few months of 2006 and the first half of 2007 researching and writing the damned thing without ever talking about it with anyone aside from my wife, who was also burdened with writing her own.

What is my dissertation about?

An exploration of the possible usefulness of hate.  Via an exploration of how pervasive hate is and what Pragmatism means to me; a discussion of Nietzsche’s view of hate using all of his published philosophical writing; proposed solutions for how to make hate useful.  Sounds sunny and easy, no?

I will admit for the first time to myself that I spent entirely too much time reading and reflecting on and writing about Nietzsche.  But they want scholarship.  Still, I spent over three months doing nothing but reading and taking notes on Nietzsche.  Do I really get him?  I’m sure some of my colleagues would say that I do not because I am not entirely familiar with the scholarship on him.  Somewhat familiar with it and equally bored by it.  I would, arrogantly, reply that I am familiar with Nietzsche‘s work, and I couldn’t give less of a shit what some deconstructionist in a cafe’ thinks about Freddy’s relationship with his mother or how this or that “scholar” had reduced all of the multifarious things Nietzsche said to one principle, phobia or sexual deviance.

That one might posit that another person might not “get” a philosopher because one spent more time reading the primary material than the secondary material is one of the reasons that I am leaving (and in most ways have already left) academic philosophy behind. Behind in an “I’m better than that” sense?  No, don’t get your panties in a bunch.  If reading philosophy journals and going to conferences is your thing, that’s cool.  You do yours, and I’ll do mine.

I can’t help but think that there’s a point where we’re supposed to stop reading about philosophy and reading people who write about it and what other people have written about what these people have written and start, you know, doing it.  Or is it really just an academic discipline and not a mode of living?

Don’t answer that.

I’m using Emerson to tie William James’ Pragmatism and Nietzsche’s ideas about energy, drives and sublimation (and how it all relates to hate) to  beef up the scholarship.  I had a TON of stuff about Nietzsche that I didn’t use because I think scholarship for scholarship’s sake is pointless.  But then I remembered what I’m writing.  It’s a hoop.  The penultimate hoop before the oral/public defense.  Still, I think it would be a more robust study with Emerson, so I’m not taking short-cuts and injecting all the scholarly research I have notes on regarding Nietzsche.

I was initially excited because I thought I’d get to spend my fall reading Emerson.  But, you know, I have to read all the scholarly stuff and, ahem, do some more writing.  So it’s not all fun and awesomeness.  But having Baby on my mind, I’m getting more done in the time I have to work than I did when my dissertation was my full-time job three years ago and when there was no fire lit under my ass.

While that’s certainly pleasant reading, I hadn’t planned on needed to do so much.  One option was to use the Nietzsche scholarship I worked on for a long time but didn’t because I felt like including research for its own sake was a waste of time.  But, I forgot.  A dissertation is a HOOP to jump through, like the other hoops from my MA and PhD programs.  It’s relevance to knowledge and truth is slight and fleeting.  At least, it can relate to them, but has to relate to other thinkers’ relations (and their relations to other thinkers’ relations!).

So while I enjoyed digging in, taking notes and brushing up on my Emerson today, I remembered why I decided that I did not want to be a “working philosopher.”  There’s little philosophy in it.  Thoreau wrote:

There are nowadays professors of philosophy, but not philosophers. Yet is admirable to to profess because it was once admirable to live. To be a philosopher is not to have subtle thoughts, nor even to found a school, but so to love wisdom as to live accordingly to its dictates, a life of simplicity, independence, magnanimity and trust. It is to solve some of the problems of life, not only theoretically but practically.

I don’t mean to single out every single academic philosopher.  Certainly I had (and have) professors who genuinely inquire[d] even when it’s not for publication or a conference, and I knew (and know) some students of the same suit.  But these good folks stand out.  This is not encouraged or rewarded.  This is something you do for yourself.  And I had/have trouble spending my time reading something for a paper and then reading it again for my own investigations.  While there are people (and I think I’d include my director) that can balance this in their heads/hearts, I have never been able to.  Whether this is a weakness in my major or myself remains to be seen, but I suspect that philosophy majors who don’t want to hear about what hoops they’re going to be asked to jump through would say the latter.

My stomach is killing me, which is why I’m still up.  I could go for some of that chai tea right now.

Photo Friday: The Office.