Over lunch today, Derek and I developed a new mantra. I have many of them, accumulated over the years, and each new one is like the click that I feel when I finish a crossword puzzle. It makes everything fit together just a little bit more. This may be an obvious one, but hey, we were pleased with it:
The opposite of good writing isn't bad writing; it's not writing.
That's all.
It would be nice if I could honestly say that this is the speed at which my revisions are going. They're coming along pretty well, but I always want my writing to go faster.
No, the title is more a reference to the fact that, two days ago, I woke up unable to turn my head to the right. Turns out I sprained a something-or-other in the right side of my neck. And then, a day later, after holding my head stable to keep it from making me cry, I apparently overtaxed a muscle on the other side of my neck. Fortunately, the pain has softened a bit, even if it's spread out all over, and double fortunately, I've been slapping IcyHot patches back there every 8 or so hours, and that's helped.
It's made it a little tougher to sleep, which has correspondingly made it tougher for me to focus when awake, but oh well. What are you gonna do?
That's all.
I'm making what I consider to be excellent progress on one front this month, and that's the revisions to my manuscript. I'm still planning on having the whole thing new and improved by the end of the month, and with each passing day, that goal seems more and more realistic. I can't tell you how delightful it is to have a writing goal not only seem realistic but to be such. It ends up carrying its own momentum from day to day, and that's the way writing works best for me now.
The downside of this newfound productivity is that I'm being particularly mercenary about the rest of my life, only surfacing occasionally, and really, being pretty unapologetic for this. I trust that those of you reading this, and expecting something from me, will understand. After months of trying to squeeze my writing into a full-to-bursting schedule, and slowly feeling the clouds of an imminent tenure case approaching, I've simply reprioritized for a spell.
The blog, it understands, if begrudgingly.
More to today's point, I resurfaced briefly to attend the awards ceremony for the Graduate Education Award I received. I'll point to the picture when it's up, but I did want to mention that maybe the single most important thing about these kinds of award ceremonies to me is the fruit spread. Not that I can't go out and buy a bunch of fruit, but I tend to buy it one at a time, given that I live by myself. So canteloupe one week, grapes another, etc. Today, I got to load up my plate with a variety.
There's something vaguely unsettling to me about launching into an encomium on the fruit plate, but I'll leave it there. Let it stand as a reminder to anyone whosoever might think about inviting me to give a talk on their campus. A variety of fresh fruit could very well cover for a multitude of sins.
Just don't invite me to do anything this month. That is all.
