Yesterday I listened to one of my favorite podcasters, Dax Shepard. In several of his Armchair Expert interviews, he tackles the subject of whether the writer/artist/famous figure needs to be chemically altered (drugs, alcohol, painful life circumstances) in order to be happy. Most artists would argue that some of their best work grows out of suffering or intoxication. I'm just not sure. In fact, though in many cases it may be true, sober work can be just as beautiful and compelling. With that said, I've been contemplating how obliterated I need to get to complete my thesis, as it seems the only way it's every going to get done.
In a struggle to get past my own hesitation, I submitted my thesis concept to a small, yet meaningful call for papers. The timing was right; I have until January to get my research organized and ready. What could be more motivating than knowing I have to present in front of a gallery of academic peers? Alas, it's my modus operandi to not take a look at the whole scenario (some of which I was not privy to until just recently).
First off, my studies fall direction in line with the holidays. Traditionally, the kids have a large amount of breaks for Thanksgiving and Christmas. That, in itself, easily distracts from any meaningful work.
To make matters worse, my mother is turning 70 this December -- and as one of the closest people in her life, I feel compelled to make her birthday something special. The family decided it was easiest to invite everyone on a cruise. My parents are suckers for them, and it's the best way to hang out, celebrate her and spend time together eating copious amounts of food. This also means there's an entire week I will be distracted by the children's genuine enthusiasm to want to try every. single. activity. on one of the world's largest ships.
And there's what has been my October-- with the gift of surgery. Luckily, this one was planned -- unlike my cancer 3 years ago. M decided to offer me the opportunity to "reshape" my body, and I was happy to take him up on it.
In theory, surgical downtime actually could've worked in favor of thesis work. After all, I can't teach my 6 exercise classes every week while I heal, so what else would I be doing with my time? The first week I was really in a painful, drug-induced stupor. The second week, I was struggling to get mobile again -- either the pain meds or the simple sweaty fact that I had to be in bed all the time left me covered in itchy, pimply welts on my back.
The fog is just starting to clear now. For the record, I had breast reconstruction on one side and enhanced both sides. It's finding beauty in the imperfections. Equally important to me (and only me it seems) was that I had the bump in my nose removed -- what one would call a "nose job." I stressed to the surgeon that I had no desire to look completely different, I just wanted to adjust what had always plagued me (and only me it seems) in profile photos. He strategically did exactly what I told him to do. A friend of mine told me that our current pursuit for visual perfection is not attractive at all. This obsession with perfectionism in beauty makes everyone look the same.
So I've now procrastinated my way fully into another semester of thesis work. I will, however, be presenting what I have, in whatever form it takes by January.
