18 March 2001
Dissertation Curse
This was very nearly the weekend I abandoned the dissertation. Last night, I had all but decided I was done with it after an evening of extreme frustration. I skipped the Reckless Kelly show that Callie, John, and our friend Camille (visiting us this weekend, which rocked) went to in order to work on the chapter I intended to finish this weekend. I haven't spent much time with this chapter in a few months, so I should have anticipated the time required to get back into the intricate argument I'm trying to construct regarding the Progressives. I didn't. I was already annoyed that I was missing the RK show -- and missing time with Callie (call me a sap), and when I pulled out my writing notes on Herbert Croly, Woodrow Wilson, and Charles Beard, it all looked like a foreign language. I couldn't figure out where the hell I had been headed previously with it, or what I needed to do about it. It just made NO sense, and I couldn't even construct an outline. And so I panicked. And broke out into a sweat. And panicked some more.
Writing a dissertation is a weird thing. It is not unusual to run across items that don't seem immediately to confirm the thesis, which then leads to a very sick feeling in the pit of the stomach. That has happened with me several times in working on this, but it's always been relatively easy to sort my way out of it. Not last night. I had one of the worst anxiety attacks I've ever had (although I'm sure it was minor compared to most -- I just don't really get that wound up over things). I finally calmed down enough just to start going through my old notes and jotting down ideas on a notepad, trying to get things to hang together. After several hours, I made some progress, and thought I figured out a way to bluff my way through. I started some writing at that point, but didn't make much progress. By 11:00 or so I was just wiped.
Callie, et al, weren't due back for hours, and I didn't really want to venture out amongst the St. Paddy's idiots, so I just kind of crashed out, listened to some music, and reflected upon the dissertation. I asked myself: Is this thing worth anxiety attacks like that? And then I started a mental list of reasons to finish (financial and intellectual investment up to this point, useful credential, necessary for academic employment, I'm not a quitter) and reasons to drop the thing (don't want a repeat of that last anxiety attack, don't plan on academic employment as my life goals has changed from 5 or so years ago when I came to Houston, don't want the guilt I continue to have when I do something fun on the weekend instead of writing, was never really motivated by the credential as much as the quest for knowledge -- yeah I know that sounds like a rationalization but it's true, want time to pursue my own studies in a manner that is less formal than what is required by academia of a dissertation). When I went to sleep last night, those reasons to drop the dissertation were outweighing the reasons to continue, and I had resolved that if I couldn't work out the problems I was having last night, that it was done. And THAT resolution let me sleep quite peacefully.
So I get up today, eventually sit down with the notepad and notes again, and quickly eliminated the problems I was having, organized the notes on Croly, constructed an outline, and just finished writing about 7 pages of stuff that isn't great, but is solid -- far better than the attempt at bluffing my way through. So the investment in the dissertation continues, which itself will render it even harder to abandon the thing even if I look up and find myself in a similar bind down the road. Strange, this experience. Although I must say, I don't want another of those anxiety attacks, and should they return, the reasons to drop the thing will certainly outweigh the other side. I hope they don't, because I enjoyed what I wrote today. What a long, strange trip....
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Completely unrelated to the dissertation.... we picked up takeout Chinese tonight from a place that had cashew chicken AND crab rangoons. Both of these dishes were favorites of mine when I lived in Springfield MO, but few Chinese restaurants in Houston have either one, let alone both. I'm happy to report that everything but the hot and sour soup was very good, though not outstanding like Bamboo Inn in Springfield, which featured the HepPweez Man. His Crab Rangoons rocked!
[Posted @ 11:07 PM CST]
