Tuesday, December 12, 2006
You know, sometimes you're sitting in a far away place, eating a bowl of French onion soup and drinking a Sierra Mist, and the Sierra Mist is unsatisfying because it isn't the Coke you crave, but you've cut out caffeine so it will have to do, and as you check and delete e-mail in between bites of soup and try not to dribble on anything that can't be easily wiped up and wonder about whether your niece will ever bother with being born and whether the beautiful weather is a fluke and whether you really can stand even one more day in your parents' house, though it is a good house with good, supportive, loving people in it, you suddenly have The Thought. You know the one. The Thought is the one that makes your dissertation (or whatever) wholly, perfectly clear to you. It makes the whole thing seem possible. It makes your evidence seem, well, still lame, but like a piece of something instead of piles of nothing. Because this work? This work is so in you that you're working on it, even when you're really just working on everything else.