Okay people. Seriously. What the heck is wrong with me?
I wrote and revised and revised and revised a 300+ page dissertation. Why is a silly little paper that needs to be able to be presented in 10 minutes causing me so much angst?
Why have I sat in my office for at least 12 hours and NOT written it?
I wonder if maybe I feel bad because I haven't touched my dissertation since May? Or if I feel disappointed in myself because I really like my teaching-centric job? Am I ashamed that my resume lacks good publications? That I have nothing in the pipeline right now? Or maybe it is just some simple wardrobe angst because I have nothing professional to wear? Because this research interest is a passing fancy, and I am used to finding a topic I want to just research the heck out of for years and years?
Whatever the reason, I have reams of research. a good idea, a lovely abstract, and puddles and puddles of self loathing. WHY is this terrible stage part of my writing process? I haaaaaaaate it.
Last week, I thought I was going to have to throw my paper together in a couple of days, and I psyched myself up for the experience. Then I found out that my deadline had been extended, so I blissfully ignored all the heaps of paper and tucked my mounting frustration out of sight for a few days, but now I am back at this desk. And stuck.
What really sucks?
Is that I don't even BELIEVE in writer's block.
And now to distract us all from abject self pity, it's my kids! In boxes!
And in the tub!
Okay, if you thought that last one was of them kissing, look at it again-- I think Jack is biting Harry-- see the nervous cringey curve of Harry's shoulder?
Back to screwing around on the internet and FEELING REALLY BAD ABOUT IT.