02 March 2011

Where does this take me

Of course it's all about power, someone says to me the other day, and I think, yes, of course it is. 

Since my trip to the States, I have been back reading Foucault and trying to prepare some writing for my supervisors next week, based on my preliminary analysis of my data. Foucault is hard for me to get--I don't get it. I think I get bits of it, but I'm too apprehensive to cite it in my writing as I might have missed something and by citing it, am only advertising my own ignorance. I don't want to do that. Still, there are a lot of good things to be found out in Foucault. I'm just not sure how to access them.

I've been back for a week now, and I still feel scattered about the things that I need to be done, but I'm not sure what order to look at them. I have to give a presentation at Middlesex on Monday about my research and have decided to, rather than taking out the same presentation I have been doing for the last year, to start over and talk about something new. It's a good idea, but it means that I have to think more carefully about it and I will feel more unsettled when I am giving it as I'm not sure where it leads. The presentation I gave in the States was more or less what I had been doing all of last year, so I was confident with my descriptions and the arch of it. I knew the timings well, could recite the data if I needed to. I stand up and after a minute of talking, I am a god: I can't be touched. For this new presentation, I am going to try to tie together three videos that I haven't tried to tie together yet and I will be hesitant, unable to fake godliness or other worldliness.

The kids are feeling a bit better, but still not 100%. Naomi is still coughing and just needs to get all the junk out of her lungs. This process ('hacking shit up', to put it bluntly) is something you learn, I realised as I was listening to her cough. How do you teach a kid to cough from deeper in their lungs? I'm not sure. I'm not qualified to be a father.

Yoko is also pregnant, something I forget about from time to time, which makes me also not qualified to be a husband. It's only a matter of time now: three and a half months and the baby will be born. I'm looking forward to Mia being here, to the settled feeling that comes when the babies are born. It lasts for about two or three months. This summer should be nice again: windows open, new baby, a year of funding still ahead. The future is growing less and less frightening. 'If you're gonna sit next to the dealer, you get to bet blind.'

I was in Birmingham on Monday to see a friend and mentor of mine who is in the country for a presentation and meetings. As I took the train from Birmingham New St out to the university, I had the strangest feeling of coming home. I came up out of the station and G was standing there, and I thought, yes, this all feels very familiar. I went up to the department that I work for part-time, but at distance, and saw all the people I trade e-mails with all week long. It was nice: good to feel like there is a place behind all the work. If my path leads there, eventually, I would be inexplicably happy. I doubt it will: I don't see how it will, but it would be nice to go home.