I’m with stupid

I’m near the end (oh, please be near the end) of a hard lesson. My first reading for my field statement has been the textbook Political Ecology by Paul Robbins (2012), which I started around the time of my last post. That was nine days ago, and I’m just finishing it today. To make matters worse, the book wasn’t even on the initial list for my field statement.

I felt that I needed an overview rather than trying to jump in on the topic with articles, and I’m glad I took that route, but I also learned that I need to get hardcore about skimming. I still have to do all the assigned reading, read the literature connected to that, and write a 30-page field statement. And that’s just the field statement – I also have reading for my other advisor and two more committee members, finishing the research for my AAG poster presentation (not to mention the poster), work on my proposal, and work on an article.

I’m with stupid. And I’m panicking.

why tho

who would do this

I am known, mostly by giggling office mates throughout my working life, for having to talk myself through tasks, especially organizational ones. Well, I have my general exams coming in May, and rather than camping out in my advisor’s office every day for the next [time frame that you didn’t know had expletives in its name] while I not only read for them, but continue with my dissertation research, I’m using this blog to write myself through the process.

The major task I’ll be covering this semester, alongside my comps reading overall, is a field statement on political ecology. My research is about policy effects, specifically those of the National Flood Insurance Program, on coastal communities, so one of my major advisors thought this was the appropriate field (that I didn’t know is a topic for another post).

Given the scope of the connections I have to make, and to keep the process organized, I need accountability. And that’s you. You are now my giggling office mates. And I’m sorry to tell you: I can’t sit still.

I hope I don’t leave this here

This is the first post.

“The only way I can get anything written at all is to write really, really shitty first drafts.”

Of all Anne Lamott’s reflective encouragements, this is the crux of all that blocks thought from paper. You can’t start writing when you’re vibrating over the thought of people seeing it.

But there’s a magnitude of time scale difference between web publishing and the type of writing she’s talking about.

On the internet, then, I think the equivalent is a shitty first post.

I wonder how many blogs or websites or journals have been forsaken after months of fearing a shitty first post. This one certainly was, almost. It has languished as an eyesore in the recluse neighborhood of my greater to-do list, a cobwebby and embarrassing corner from which I sometimes hear snarls and asylum laughter.

For over a year and a half I’ve put up with that, because:

  • “I’m trying to find my voice” (by not using it)
  • I might regret the name of the blog (and confuse alllll these followers if I must change it later)
  • I can’t write until I know what the True Mission of the blog is (like all those sacred Geocities sites)
  • I’m waiting until I can write with the deliberate yet free-flowing clarity of a Real Academic and Writer (¬_¬)

(Bullshit artistry is messy; you get most of it on yourself.)

Just when I’m making headway convincing myself that nobody will ever see a first post anyway, I pivot to my backup argument: then why am I going to bother writing all these posts for nothing?

A draft won’t save me from this nonsense. So, here is my shitty first post, in a shitty-name blog. My filthy band-aid that I hope I don’t but probably will forget on the side of the tub, and be mortified to rediscover after company comes by.