We got married on the top of a small mountain on a tiny island off the north-western corner of the “lower forty-eight” states. My dress was twenty dollars from Ross and I wore my favorite combat boots I purchased at a consignment store for six dollars. It was November and a tiny group of our closest friends stood outside in the freezing cold with us.
I have never, once, ever regretted not having a big fancy white-dress wedding.
With increasing frequency, however, the subject of my Dissertation has entered casual conversation. I submitted a proposal I still have a passion for, so much so that when a poor soul asks me about it I launch in to an entire discussion until their eyes glaze over and they begin to drool. It’s a great topic, honestly. I deferred after getting pregnant with my first and again when we moved from Oregon to Seattle. It was at this point I had our second child and safely placed that dream on a high shelf in the nursery.
I keep going back to that shelf, however.
About a year ago a client innocently asked me about my graduate degree. I launched in to the usual discussion about my Masters and continued on in to my passion for Women in Computer Science and shockingly did not see his eyes glaze over. I tossed out my dissertation topic and he actually became interested. As a publisher (did I mention that part?) his eyes lit up and he proclaimed, “YOU NEED TO WRITE THAT BOOK.” This is the start of a nagging fact I’ve desperately tried to ignore: I want to write that book.
In the past twelve months, I’ve become more aware exactly how often I find myself thinking of applications for my research, re-visiting the possibilities, the correlations, the outcome. As a theme, it returns more often than any other. There comes a point where thinking becomes talking, talking becomes analyzing, and analyzing becomes doing.
I believe it’s time to seriously consider the doing.
*Related Post from 2009: Four Generations Of Working Moms