Tea?

I've been writing letters from a Victorian perspective and trying my best to invent language and syntax of the era. No easy task. This last exam is fun, but troubling. I am glad to be a part of the 21st century and using a computer to type out my imaginings instead of sitting still, in a corset, sipping tea. I like my bald, bawdy self just fine.

Onward. Printed all completed exams and will begin editing today as I get stuck with my my last letter from 1876. What fond delight doth steal upon me!

Finish line approaching. . .

Finally, yes, finally I finished Exam three. I am feeling much lighter today and happy to have that dense and paradoxical piece out of the way, well until edit week. So, it's on to history and imagination as I write letters to a woman who was a performer in the 19th century! This last exam is a rather creative one and while I think it will be much more manageable, it will likely prove the most time consuming. I guess I'll see. All books from the last project have been ceremoniously removed and a whole new stack awaits. Ahh.

"Here Kitty, Kitty. Here girl, where are you?" (inside joke).

Late night on the moon

Yup, it's 1:41 am. I think I am done with sections A and B of Exam 3 with sections C and D to go. I'm having kind of a David Bowie moment here. Excuse me. OK. Had a major 'aha' about how to describe the phenomenon I'm studying. That's cool. Whether or not that's productive at this point I'm not yet sure. Too many delicious ideas, never enough wine to make them verbal. Sigh. It's so odd that my most productive hours are between 10 pm and 2 am. Thinking about my dad tonight. He died a year ago this time. Can't help but wonder if he has the same view as I do in this little imaginative photo.

'night, Dad.

When angels break

I am on to the third exam question which is about the aesthetics of lived-experience. In the spring of my first year of PhD work, my family presented me with a little angel figure. She had wings and a book. Being the superstitious type, I began to be concerned when her wings fell off this past fall. Then, as I was organizing all of my books and resources for these exams, the figurine leapt from her spot on the ledge and dove into my desk. She lost her head somewhere in between methodology and philosophy. Poor dear. Is she now disembodied? Does she still posses an embodied mind? Can she manage without her mind in her head and all of its conscious creating processes? Can she even "mind" being wingless and voiceless? What does her seemingly disembodied state do to her angelic powers of protection with regard to my scholarly endeavors? Headless and wingless, can she still make her protection manifest? More importantly, do I believe she can? I believe her fracture is telling me it's time to write in my own voice with power and authority - and to do so despite my trembling. Now, how do I get from belief to action?

As good as gone?

Well, Exam II is giving me a hard time. My co-worker Amber and friends J & K have made life fun by sending me goofy toys and such. So here's my sorta celebration pic about getting to at least and editable stage with the second essay. I need to just put it away and dig into the Exam III. Oh, joy! Seriously, I am actually enjoying this process as chaotic and weird as it is. The hard part is just realizing when your brain is turning inside out and folding up on itself. At that point I start kicking out all kinds of dense and tangled theoretical mumbo jumbo. Making mumbo jumbo that makes sense, now that's academic! But don't hold your breath waiting for me to figure that one out. . .

Existential Grounding for Dance

"Self-identity needs to be continually reproduced and reassured precisely because it fails to secure belief."

Peggy Phalen

In other words, we need simply the sight of others in order to begin a vision ourselves. Needs are not bad or negative. Needs are transformative.