February 21st, 2007


Last night, I found myself still awake at 1:00 a.m. responding to an email I had received from Andy’s grandmother. She had sent a sweet note saying hello, inquiring about Jack, asking how Andy and I were doing.

The poor woman had no idea what she was getting herself into when she casually mentioned that she’d be interested in hearing about my dissertation. DUN DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNN!!!

Because I guess that when that particular question is thrown at me, well, I guess I just run with it folks. I take it and gallop. And not in a straight line either. We’re talking twisty, curvy alleyways and dark deserted streets. The kinds of streets that have dead-ends. So you have to backtrack a lot, and try out different ones. And not calmly either; not a rational and sane backtracking. More like a HOLYSHITIHAVENOIDEAWHEREIAM-chicken-with-its-head-cut-off kind of panicked backtracking. And did I mention the “dark and deserted” aspect? Oh these are lonely, lonely streets. Streets which no grandmother should ever be dragged down. The dredges, the pits, are these streets.

And yet, at 1:00 in the morning I found myself composing this email to this question for an hour. Thank god for Andy’s grandma’s sake, at some point during the composition, one of my saner inner voices decided I needed a talking to, pulled me up by the shoulders, slapped me across the face and demanded I get a hold of myself, girl. I erased as much of the email as I could bear and wrote something to the tune of, “The dissertation, a study of Depression-era literature, is coming along. Thanks for asking!”

The lesson learned? That I need to start putting this tormented process down on paper, where it should be going in the first place, which I’ve been holding back from doing. Out of fear of the mess that it is? Because I love reality TV? I don’t know, but I need to do it. The floodgate is open; I’ve just got to re-direct the waters to the appropriate channels. I must refrain from punishing the unsuspecting souls who innocently ask The Question. Because really, no one deserves to be lead through the Dark Night of the Soul that is my project at this point. Especially not sweet, unguarded grandmothers.

Posted by: Sarah on February 21st, 2007
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