Now that I get to study full time, I am beginning to suffer ever so slightly from what Betty Friedan termed "The problem that has no name"* Ok, so she was talking about housewives who have nothing to do but cook and claen all day, and I do have that teeny little added extra that is called a thesis# but in many ways my life is beginning to resemble the lives of those 1950s American houswives in 'The Feminine Mystique"^. Here's what I mean: I am stuck in the house all day long. On Wednesday, I couldn't get motivated (a key issue noted in the book) so I went up the road for a coffee. Now, admittedly, the coffee was pretty cool - it came in a BOWL and it was HUGE and DELICIOUS but the fact remains that it was 3 days ago, and I am still obsessing about it as one of the most exciting things to have happened to me all week! The other worrying concern is that I am turning distinctly motherly. This might simply be the strange effect of having two (somewhat laddish) male housemates but this morning I put their Enrol to Vote forms on the kitchen table with a note "Hi Kids. I am posting this tonight so please complete. Mum". Is this the kiss of death for my sanity? Stay tuned to find out if the boys' forms get completed, and if I achieve a sense of fulfillment after washing the dishes.
*Actually, just by being able to intellectualise it, I feel a mite better. Maybe it's all about naming the problem... she could have given it a proper name though, instead of this cop out - imagine an explorer discovering a new type of plant, and calling it "the plant that has no name". Similarly: "the gene that is possibly linked to breast cancer and definately linked to memory loss in people over the age of 65 that has no name"
#basically a non-electronic blog that goes for 5 or so years
^Now THAT is a great title. She obviously had a brilliant editor, or we would have been stuck with "The Book That Has No Name"