Wednesday, July 09, 2003
I should be responding to papers for my online composition course. I am, in fact: I've paused in the middle of one. But as I write this, one of those glorious summer rains is pouring out of the skies, as if God opened the sluice gates and sang forth a river of water to fall as it does only in Texas. Awhile back, in a burst of post-dissertation frenzied self-reorganization, I rearranged my house and turned a spare bedroom into an office. In the process, my desk departed its middle-of-a-room-with-no-view address and took up residence in front of a window. Outside, my brightly blooming crape myrtles are dipping in the rain and floating on the breeze, and the thunder sings accompaniment to their dance. I set my work aside, made a cup of tea, and went outside to smell the rain. Urged back indoors by my whining dalmatian who prefers dry air conditioning to wet, humid summer, I returned to my desk, but my work lies unattended, and my eyes remain glued to the window.
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Monday, May 12, 2003
It's official. Saturday, during an otherwise ordinary and forgettable graduation ceremony at Texas Woman's University, I was announced as Dr. Ann Marie Olson and "hooded." The best part of the day was that I was finally able to forge a connection between two seemingly disparate groups of people in my life--my family and my graduate school colleages. I enjoyed being able to introduce one group to the other, then sit back in amused pleasure as they bragged on me to each other. Such an odd ritual, graduation. The regalia, designed for warmth in cold, drafty Middle Aged halls, has outlived it usefulness and practicality, especially on a nearly 90-degree Texas morning when even the air conditioning can't keep pace with the rising temperatures. Still, we wear it for ritual, for dignity at a ceremony intended to be formal and auspicious (a fact that escapes most of the screaming, air-horn-blowing audience).
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Thursday, April 10, 2003
Patches of color, capturing and tossing rays of sunlight like playthings.
Shadows blended with shades and hues.
The sharp glistening of a leftover raindrop.
Saturday I finished planting my second azalea garden, and the Sunday rain urged buds into blossoms. For the next few days, the flowers seemed to shiver in the cold. Today, they stretch and open to embrace the sun streaming through unclouded skies.
I sit at my desk, facing the window, and I see unrivaled beauty.
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Monday, March 31, 2003
Let me introduce myself: my name is Dr. Olson. I defended my dissertation on March 14 and now have just some final editing to do before making a bazillion copies and turning it in. Thursday was the first chance I had to actually take a deep breath since the defense. Right afterward, I had to rush around getting ready for a trip to New York for the CCCC convention. It was an interesting time to be in New York, what with bombs beginning to fall on Iraq. New York felt quite safe, though, in a paranoid sort of way--emergency equipment positioned throughout the city rather than hiding away in stations and cops very visible--about every 25 feet. The conference was great, and so was the chance to see two amazing Broadway shows: 42nd Street (which knocked my socks off) and Les Miserables (which was also amazing). I wish we'd had time to do more, but the conference sessions had priority, of course. I made a presentation about--what else?--my dissertation topic: MOOs and Bakhtin, but focused more on rhetorical agency in computerized writing environments and less on rhetorical invention. The session (which I organized, btw), was reviewed by Will Hochman for Academic Writing, which was kinda cool. I got less space than the other two presenters, but they are more widely known. My next project, as soon as I finish final editing on the dissertation, will be to prepare another paper for Computers and Writing in May. Never a dull moment ....
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Wednesday, February 19, 2003
The entire dissertation is now mailed off to committee---all 408 pages of it. (418 if you count the introductory pages.) Last night for the first time in three years, there was nothing I could do on my dissertation. It felt weird, and I almost didn't know what to do with myself--but I got over it and quilted. Guilt-free quilting--what a luxury.
Sadder note--my grandmother is dying. Her body is stiff, and her pain is unyielding. She is confused much of the time, and heaven is better, but she tenaciously graps her earthly life. Life IS precious--even when we ought to let it go. How to reconcile that?
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Monday, January 27, 2003
Rejoice with those who rejoice, right?
So . . . cheer, shout, throw food, wave banners, scatter confetti, and then fall with me in an exhausted heap to the floor. The nemesis has been faced down. Chapter 4 is in the mail.
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Sunday, January 12, 2003
So, yeah, it's been awhile--September to January--but it's not like I haven't had anything else going on in my life, right?
I have worked for weeks on my dissertation research, condensing hundreds (and hundreds) of pages of raw data into 98 much-more-manageable pages of data display tables. So why is it frustrating that after so much work, that nearly 100 pages seems like such a small result? Wasn't that the point, after all? Of course, the only answer is that I'm tired of writing my dissertation, and I want it to be finished. At the same time, I'm excited at what I'm discovering. Yes, what many of us (us being techrhets--composition rhetoric folks who love computers) have believed for so long really can be supported by solid empirical data and not just the anecdotal evidence we have relied on. (Not to bash the anecdotal, but I am trying here to fill an empirical void, ya know?)
At least I got to celebrate the near-end over Christmas break, meeting up with my family at the cave. For the last week, I've been trying to answer the question, "So, how was the cave?" Words are inadequate, and I keep wanting to find a metaphor. It was Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous meets Lord of the Rings. It was beautifully raw, primitively modern (or was it modernly primitive?). Mostly it was wonderful to be alone in the earth with my family, immersed (encaved) in God's creative wonders that few ever see. I even got my picture taken with a bat! How often does a girl get a chance like that?
Writing, as a process, is chaotic, hopefully producing a more ordered, meaningful result. My dissertation--still in chaos--calls.
Today it snowed.
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