Thesis writing is like giving birth

Dramatic post title. Yes, I admit it is but writing my dissertation has felt comparable to one metaphor: childbirth. I have nurtured and agonised over this document for 9 months or more and now the final stages of labour are upon me. It is like being in a black space where the only light and focus is that distant moment when the thing is finished and handed in. It has consumed me. I have been dreaming about different phrases and terminology. My children think I am a grumpy, desk bound misery. This last push is the most painful but then it will be finished and what will I have? Just a certificate. But also another thing ticked off on my list of life challenges. I am going to celebrate loudly on Thursday!

donkeys in a field near our house

Demri & Layne

Power

I have been writing my dissertation about Native American contemporary fiction and one of the books I really enjoyed was written by Linda Hogan: Power. It's about a 16 year old girl called Omishto and I would recommend it as an excellent read. The prose is beautiful and it deals with  important issues of identity and ecology all centered around the death of a Florida Panther. Thoughtful and vivid.

Jaqen H'ghar Daario Naharis: same person?

Only because they both said, 'lovely girl' in that caressing kind of way

and they are both extremely gorgeous.

(men look so much better with long hair)

Fur Traders Descending the Missouri

George Caleb Bingham: 1845

Forgetfulness and faded things

I am overwhelmed at the moment, I have taken on too many tasks. Not only looking after (or visiting or caring for) three small children, husband, parents, grandparents, sisters, sister in law, nieces, nephew and friends...plus neighbours, chickens, dog, guinea pigs, vegetable garden, flower borders...

And don't get me wrong, all of this delights me, I adore my wonderful, sprawling extended family and life, however, right now, with dissertation deadline looming and new teaching course assignments to complete and poetry to read for friends or judge in a poetry democracy comp or CV to write or poetry pamphlet to proof....

Well, I may have a bit too much on at the moment.

I know this because I keep forgetting things. Things I should know. How to make pancakes. What I walked into the room to do. A child coming back to mine for tea. Double booking my days. Thinking I posted an item and then finding it on my desk.

Also I get distracted by small things; the shade of a faded leaf fluttering on the birch tree. The colour of the lettuce plants as they burst through the compost. An old photograph that makes me sit on the stairs and forget why I was going upstairs.

I just remembered I am also reading The Mill on the Floss for book group each night, before I fall asleep and forget the pages I just read.