Post-vacation brain fog continues to dog me. A new week is in progress but I'm somehow still standing at the starting line. Am I losing the ability to focus? Or maybe it's all the change in general that's been going on around here. Transitions mean feeling like I have two left feet. Not especially effective for maintaining a straight trajectory ...
But, in taking stock, I can say that by the end of last week, I did turn in a 30-page chunk of work to my independent study advisor. Not the same advisor directing my thesis, but another professor on my committee who happens to be supervising some summer research I've been doing on the side. It's thesis-related, just not formally so. The work is quite different from the kind of writing I've been trying to do, so much so that it almost feels like a completely separate discipline. But it examines the same material -- family -- and I've needed a new angle from which to examine the past: one less fraught. My instincts tell me to keep going even though the other part of me, the one having fits that I've written so little on the actual thesis, is sighing and wringing her hands. "This is just procrastination! You'll never finish if you get sidetracked so easily!" she says.
Well, 30 pages, whatever they're about, is 30 pages more than I ever got staring at the thesis file for the last two months.
In between sessions with the research, there have been other happenings afoot. Or shall I say, not-happenings. I took this shot while waiting to get on the highway, going home from my counselor's office.
After telling him that I didn't want to continue with him anymore.
Okay, I didn't say it quite like that -- I said I needed a break of indeterminate length. I couldn't, for my own sake, truly abandon the work I've done with him by closing the door for good, so it's there, in storage. But the end result is the same: no more awkward silences in his office when I've run out of things to say, waiting for feedback from him that almost never comes. I was dreading the conversation because of that very silence I was sure I'd be met with, but I got through it. And he seemed to understand.
Just in case things ended up going particularly badly, though, I reminded myself right before my appointment that I had this waiting for me at home:
She was originally our latest foster, but after a week, I knew she was the perfect kitty for both me and D. We have slightly different tastes in cat personalities -- he favors the enthusiastically playful ones; I like the mellow ones who will cuddle -- and this little lady has both traits in abundance. Not a typical combination, in our experience! So we made her an official part of the family Troubadour right before we left for Victoria.
She says hi. When she's chosen a name for herself, I'll post it (yes, even kitty gets a pseudonym). But for now, she wants to go back to enjoying my lap, which she just discovered as a prime napping spot. I was afraid she'd never try it out, but today -- !!!
For more !!!, check out the Intentional Happiness project here and here.
1 day ago