My Zokuto word meter, somehow, does not work anymore. I put my numbers in and hit “enter” and nothing happens, except that the fields reset. It makes me a little sad, because I loved to impress my non-writerly, non-dissertationing friends with numbers and progress.
It is spring break this week, and I’ve kept my sitter hours as well as enlisted the kind help of some other friends so that I’ve gotten a few large hunks of hours to write and work. I’ve also re-instated the nightly writing whilst H is at the studio.
Progress, while it is not what I’d like it to be–not what it feels like it should be given the hours I’m devoting–is apparent. Chapter 3, the data analysis chapter, has taken three different iterations at this point, and I’ve finally settled on what I’d like to see happen (or on what I think will be an approachable set of arguments based on my findings). Part of my problem in writing this chapter early on was that I felt like I should know and be able to anticipate every claim, and that as I began (and began again), I needed to properly set the chapter up to essentially foreshadow those claims. What I found myself doing, though, was writing paragraphs full of thesis statements, something I have been overly-conscious of ever since cgb noted that I’m inclined to do so.
I finally took the think on paper advice and made it my own, which is not only keeping me writing, but also keeping me from feeling like I have to know what I’m going to say (fully, unequivocally) before I say it. It’s helping.
What’s not helping is March. I am ready for sunshine and blue skies and daffodils. Instead, I’m at the kitchen table in the only natural light of the house, and even that is meager and grey. I have my legs wrapped in one blanket, a second draped around my shoulders. It has, I think I can say, snowed every single day of March so far. T, my brother who recently moved south into the city of Syracuse, came over for dinner and to help us with some drywall last night. He couldn’t believe how much snow we still had piled on our streets and both sides of the driveway (there’s not much snow left in the city).
While I did run in the Tipp Hill Shamrock race last weekend, I still have very little motivation to go outside and run in the cold nasty. And I’m feeling the effects of sitting in a chair for 5 hours a day: my right thigh is sore from where the hard edge of the chair presses into my hamstring. My neck is stiff, and my wrists are cranky from leaning on the laptop keyboard. I know. Wah wah.
I suppose I could be happy that the weather is crappy; if it were nice I’d most assuredly be complaining that I couldn’t be outside to enjoy it more.