My heart is beating 92 beats per minute.
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What a week already! Yesterday, we saw the OB early in the morning. She said the same thing as two weeks ago: things look stable; maybe in two weeks, Mama can come off bedrest a little. Good news.
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.
You may be aware that I’ve been working with my dissertation director to get a date for our defenses before Baby comes. This will involve a train to DC, a train to Chicago, a train to Carbondale, then the same on the way back. Two days of traveling each way. And, you know, a public defense wherein people who didn’t read it can come and ask annoying questions. Not a light trip to make with a pregnant wife, my own neuroses and not a ton of cash for traveling. But, it needs to get done.
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.
Revising my dissertation, I wonder if working in higher education/community engagement, outside of an academic discipline, hasn’t been better for my prose writing? I have to write for university administrators, nonprofit and community partners regularly, not to mention sometimes writing in order to convince people to do something they don’t really want to do. There’s a lot of pomp and false wit in the dissertation that I would never put into something for other people to read on paper like that these days. Of course, blogging is full of pomp, almost necessarily so, so you probably haven’t noticed, as I haven’t until this morning. :)
Damn, I miss it every year. This year, I have an excuse: Little One on the way. I think we’ll be able to slow down next year. I always think that. But the dissertation defenses will officially be over. And, for the first time since I was probably still wetting my pants occasionally, I will officially be out of school. I think I’ve completely under-estimated how much that is hanging over my head.
For breakfast, coffee and a chilly walk to the Capital. A nice way to spend the first part of Friday, to be sure. I had to tell him about what happened Thursday in Texas though, since he’d been traveling. Not the kind of news you want to tell a person you like.
I haven’t been blogging much on here lately because I haven’t had the energy and will. I hate when people say, “I didn’t X because I’m just soooooooo busy [with the inflection that no one, and they mean no one, is as busy as they are].” So I won’t give you that bullshit.
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.
I finally heard back from my dissertation director. As you can imagine, impending parenthood has us wanting to defend and be finished! But I have more work to do. Among several options is to incorporate Emerson into the work. So now I have to read a lot of Emerson this fall. Damn. Emerson.
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.
Dang it, I don’t start my new job and move into my sweet new office until next month. Here’s a workspace from my dissertation, in the fall of 2006, which feels like last month.
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.
I declare to myself today: The next person to make fun of me for not having a job or to make a remark about my long education. Yes. This person.
I am kicking them in the junk.
Why is it Okay to make fun of me for not having a job just because the Mrs. has one, and the bills get paid? What? Oh? It’s not. Yeah. It’s rude at best. Mean on average. It’s not as if I like not having a job.
And the education: making fun of. “All that education and…” Can you mask your jealousy and/or insecurity a little thinner? Yes, I went to a lot of school. Yes, I have a lot of non-practical knowledge. Yes, I read a lot. Yes, I think about things a lot. You know, this might be more of a good thing than a bad thing. I would be a jerk to make fun of people who didn’t go to college. But I don’t have a chip on my shoulder wherein I have negative thoughts about people without stupid letters behind their names. So I would have to fake it to make it up. Maybe I have anti-higher-ed tendencies at times*, but those come from experience, not insecurity and/or jealousy.
Of course, there’s the defense when someone calls me “college boy” that they are just kidding. Joking. That I’m too sensitive and can’t take a joke. Like insensitive people’s required standard of sensitivity means anything to me.
Well, fine. My kick in your crotch is a joke, too. Don’t be so fucking sensitive.
[* I am told.]
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