i was about to read Joan Nelson's article on the 'political salience' of the poor, until i discovered that, by working on the thesis on two computers, inconsistencies are about to happen and yes, that article is not in my humble but ever reliable Acer laptop.
so begrudgingly, i had to work on chapter 4. ugh, i just wanted to read, i thought.
so to start a lazy unworked engine which is this mind, i opened the word file with the aim of just editing, rearranging the chapter headings --- just what a truly lazy mind could conjure at 430 in the morning, on a friday.
but as i was leafing through the page, and reading snippets of what i wrote, 2 years ago, the writing came to make sense. forgive the narcissism, but the writing, the analysis was alright. worthy of publication, worthy of being laid out into the open. worthy of release from this baul, this chest of writings filed in a folder.
the writing gave me another reason to exclaim, within, 'i don't want to die!' i don't want to die out on this thesis.
and so a mundane, totally routine task of just opening a chapter, starting for the heck of it, revealed the shiny grain of wisdom that a thesis, if you believe in it, and the writing you invested in it, is worth doing and sacrificing for, as one 'dies' everyday in lost opportunities of sleep, of working on other deadlines, or just letting be in bed.
this thesis is part of my life. part of the reason why i wake up, and breathe, and still find joy amid the everyday struggles of being a long-distance mom and selling dams for a living. i don't want to die. i just don't want to die and not finish this thesis.