discrete progress
Sep. 25th, 2003 07:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
truepennyIt worked yesterday ...
Goals for today.
1. Integrate Bennett into the pamphlets chapter. Also that one moment in the discussion of The Second Maiden's Tragedy.
2. Write a paragraph of the conclusion.
If I do more, that's great. But I'm keeping the bar set low.
I dreamed last night that I had an appointment to meet my dissertation director in one of the multitudinous coffee shops downtown. First I couldn't get out of the house because Mirrorthaw wanted me to watch a Western starring Sharon Stone and Gina Torres; then I couldn't decide whether to wear jeans or shorts. By the time I was leaving the house, I was already two hours late, and it was getting dark, and people kept coming up to me wanting rides to places I wasn't going. Then, when I got downtown, I couldn't remember which coffee shop I was supposed to meet my director in. And it was getting really dark. So I came home to phone her and apologize (and why is it when there's a telephone in my dreams, it's always in the niche that used to be in my parents' house until they remodelled?), only to discover that the house had been overrun by people (mostly undergraduates) filling out applications for a short story contest, under the direction of a hectoring and unpleasant man. So I had to fight my way to the phone. There was a message (and the answering machine was our current one, in this niche in my parents' house that doesn't exist any longer and never had an answering machine in it anyway), but I couldn't hear it because the undergrads were being so noisy and the hectoring man kept shouting at them.
Then I hit another common pattern in my dreams, which is that I'm trying to call someone and I can't dial the number correctly. I couldn't remember my director's phone number, and although she was on the list of phone numbers on the wall by the phone, the number was wrong somehow and kept connecting me to people I didn't want to talk to. So someone (Mirrorthaw?) suggested that I look her up in the phone book, and I spent the rest of the dream crawling around on the floor among all these undergraduate legs, trying to find a phone book that had her phone number in it. I found seven phone books that were nothing but yellow pages, but I didn't find the white pages before I woke up.
This is your brain.
This is your brain on academic stress.
Any questions?
Goals for today.
1. Integrate Bennett into the pamphlets chapter. Also that one moment in the discussion of The Second Maiden's Tragedy.
2. Write a paragraph of the conclusion.
If I do more, that's great. But I'm keeping the bar set low.
I dreamed last night that I had an appointment to meet my dissertation director in one of the multitudinous coffee shops downtown. First I couldn't get out of the house because Mirrorthaw wanted me to watch a Western starring Sharon Stone and Gina Torres; then I couldn't decide whether to wear jeans or shorts. By the time I was leaving the house, I was already two hours late, and it was getting dark, and people kept coming up to me wanting rides to places I wasn't going. Then, when I got downtown, I couldn't remember which coffee shop I was supposed to meet my director in. And it was getting really dark. So I came home to phone her and apologize (and why is it when there's a telephone in my dreams, it's always in the niche that used to be in my parents' house until they remodelled?), only to discover that the house had been overrun by people (mostly undergraduates) filling out applications for a short story contest, under the direction of a hectoring and unpleasant man. So I had to fight my way to the phone. There was a message (and the answering machine was our current one, in this niche in my parents' house that doesn't exist any longer and never had an answering machine in it anyway), but I couldn't hear it because the undergrads were being so noisy and the hectoring man kept shouting at them.
Then I hit another common pattern in my dreams, which is that I'm trying to call someone and I can't dial the number correctly. I couldn't remember my director's phone number, and although she was on the list of phone numbers on the wall by the phone, the number was wrong somehow and kept connecting me to people I didn't want to talk to. So someone (Mirrorthaw?) suggested that I look her up in the phone book, and I spent the rest of the dream crawling around on the floor among all these undergraduate legs, trying to find a phone book that had her phone number in it. I found seven phone books that were nothing but yellow pages, but I didn't find the white pages before I woke up.
This is your brain.
This is your brain on academic stress.
Any questions?
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no subject
Date: 2003-09-25 05:53 am (UTC)What a rough one.
no subject
Date: 2003-09-25 09:50 am (UTC)It is so good to wake from that one.
no subject
Date: 2003-09-25 10:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-25 10:30 am (UTC)