I think yesterday's entry may have given some of y'all the wrong idea about me. Shmuel called, a little concerned that I was taking on yet another project. 3-4 new books? Isn't that a bit much? But the thing is, that almost certainly one of those books won't happen...possibly more than one. It's not exactly that I'm juggling so much -- it's that instead of throwing up one ball when I catch another, I throw up three or four -- and two of them dissolve and never come back down to be caught. I think I'm getting lost in metaphor. Just think of all these projects as little feelers, things that may or may not happen. And if by some chance all of them do happen, I'll take a leave of absence next fall and work on the extras then. Not a problem. Grad school is flexible that way, and the Asian book especially connects nicely to my research.
I'm still working on that fellowship application. I finished one essay draft this morning; I have another one to write. This one I'm really not sure what to write on -- listen, here's the topic:
"Please write in essay form about your experience as a New American. Indicate, if appropriate, the role of family and other institutions in bringing you to the position you now hold. Also indicate what activities you have undertaken that mnight give evidence of creativity, accomplishment, and commitment to the values expressed in the U.S. Constitution and the Bill of Rights."
Meep. The dilemma, of course, is that I could easily write about porn, and freedom of speech, and the Telecommunications Decency Act -- and all it would take would be one kneejerk conservative on the judging panel to shoot my application out of the water. Dammit. I'm just not sure what to do. I spent an hour on the phone with Kevin last night, trying to sort it out; I'm guessing that I'll probably end up being oblique, and focusing on multiculturalism and diversity of voice instead. But it feels weird.
Anyway, rather than angsting about what I'm going to write, I suspect I should just write. I'm going to go put a load of laundry in, crank up some music, and then bang my head against this some more. If I can just finish a draft of this application today, then I won't feel quite so distressed about still having a story to finish and ten research papers to grade tomorrow...
8:45. In case you were waiting with baited breath, I finished that draft at 5:30. I'm not sure what I've done for the last three hours. Watched Drew Carey. Talked to Karina, then Kevin. Stared into space. My brain is totally fried, y'know? I had vague dreams of finishing the draft of my story tonight, so I could actually revise it before handing it to the group tomorrow. Hah, I say, hah! I shoulda known better. I'm going to go watch the end of The Invisible Man, followed by Voyager, and then I'm going to sleep. There's ambition for you. What was all that nonsense I wrote in that essay about creativity, accomplishment and commitment? Bah, humbug.