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someday

somehow, somewhere, I WILL get around to writing a proper entry. Possibly this weekend. Maybe.

Life is being lived in a state of constant flux right now as I get settled in and am learning how to surf while juggling. (Juggling the course-load having been more or less perfected as an undergraduate. Surfing, I've discovered, is infinitely more complex. Especially when you have no sense of balance.) Which isn't to say I'm not enjoying myself ('cause I am. Who'd have thought that you could get an adrenaline rush as the result of a successful lecture? Not me.)--I simply wish I could fit a few more hours in the day.

so I'm finally back at school

and am currently writing my very first syllabus.

I feel like someone should take a picture--except that it would probably have to be more like a movie, since I'm rather slow at all this, despite the fact that I have my mentor-professor's to model my own upon.

for official purposes only

I wish to state for the record that I absolutely loathe and despise all writing assignments that are described by word count rather than a number of pages.

 Loathe and despise.

Is it possible to develop an OCD in relation to one's word-count checker?

Although technically it is now over...

Today has been a good day.

I have just finished reading Virginia Woolf's A Room of One's Own, and really? If it wasn't for the fact that I ought to be getting along to bed so I can get up in the morning and go to class to discuss it, I would seriously consider sitting back down again to re-read it.

*Contemplates anthology with quiet awe.*

This--this was not a bad way to bring these past few hours to a close. A cancelled class, an excellent critical analysis assigned, two acceptance letters (one promising an assistantship), and a magnificent essay? I'm afraid to ask how life could be any better.

celebration

Hallelujah.

45,000+.

what a week it has been

So we're coming up on the end of the work week (or in my case, academic week) in a few hours, and honestly I shall be extremely pleased when it is over. Nothing extremely bad happened--but then again, there really wasn't anything good about it either.

Two of the essays I wrote before break were returned and quite frankly I ended up somewhere between horrified and amused when reading the comments. My English professor wrote that while he admired my prose he felt that I had not made my point by the time I reached the concluding paragraph. My History professor however, told me that while she enjoyed the structure of the essay and that she thought that my point was made very neatly, several of the crucial passages were awkwardly phrased. But the really fun part about all of this? These two professors are married, and it's very likely that they graded these essays over the same weekend. Actually, this also makes me wonder if they ever compare (or discuss) their students...I don't think I really want to know the answer to this one.

But moving on to happier subjects, I am pleased to record that this week I had an experience of what I believe I must describe as a mini-ephipheny. It was regarding the overarching plot of AO and the rest of its brethren, and I while I'm still hashing out the details and working out the timing, I feel pretty darn good about what's down on paper thus far. And to make things just a little bit better, I squeezed in a little research this afternoon on TSC and am now more convinced than ever that the internet is basically the best thing ever.

upon further thought

I now realize that I left the vast majority of my notes regarding the sp at home. Huh. Good thing I'll be going there soon, eh? :-)

Feb. 27th, 2006

These past few days have been rather trying. On Saturday we began the official tally, and so far the numbers are not in my favor

Grad school rejections: 2
unknowns: 7
Ellie: 0

and since then I've been scrambling to keep everything else under control while being bombarded with visions of myself in two months with two undergraduate degrees in the liberal arts in one hand and no acceptance letters in the other. It's a scary thought, and as much as I love my parents for trying to be supportive, Kirby Puckett-esque pieces of wisdom are NOT going to do me much good right now.

So basically I'm terrified, rather crabby, and spent the last thirty-six odd hours in low dudgeon until about 5:45 this evening when I woke up from a nap to discover that I had the conclusion of my current essay (this particular current essay being one of the three I'm writing at the moment) plotted out perfectly in my head. So yay, something is actually going better than expected.


Moving along to writing world, we've advanced a further two thousand words in AO, but as I continue onward I find myself increasingly nervous about the slow progression of, well, everything. I seem to have adapted the mantra of my beloved 19th century British novelists and my subconscious is telling my muse that the more words the better. That may have worked for writers who were actually being paid by the word or published their chapters in newspapers, but I'm fairly certain that publishers would look at a YA novel that's well over a hundred thou (my projected estimate if things keep going the way they are at the moment) and just laugh. Loudly.

As for other projects, I seem to have renewed my interest in both TSC and the yet untitled SP (although really, that one will definitely have to wait until The Paper is completely finished). So it'll be interesting to see where/if those ones go anywhere.

upon remaining resolute

To strive, to seek, to find and not to yield.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Ulysses

what a week

Actually, I can't quite believe that it's already Thursday. I'm not ready for it to be Thursday. My schedule won't let it be Thursday yet either, and we all know better than to upset the schedule. Bad things happen. Plagues. Hailstones. Locasts. (Yeah, okay, it would be a little difficult for bugs to make it up this far north in February, but stranger things have happened. Though it does make me wonder if the chancellor would cancel class for that one, considering that he refuses to do so when it's forty below... Anyway, I'll I'm saying is that it would be an interesting hypothetical situation, although I doubt the farmers around the town would thank me for my curiosity.)

Moving onwards, we have begun to write the Paper, and are not in anyway embittered that two more rather longish/complicated essays have been assigned and are due next Thursday before break. And it has been determined that the loss of my favorite pen will require a visit to that black hole of a school-supplies establishment, the bookstore.

(ahem)...testing

So it's a rather early hour in the morning, and that would probably not matter except for the fact that my beloved university actually has classes scheduled for tomorrow (in other words, we shan't be celebrating President's Day--or Presidents' Day if you include Lincoln, although I don't believe he's officially on the government paperwork proclaiming the holiday--tomorrow by sleeping in and attending the inevitable store sales, not that there are sales closer than forty miles or so, but that isn't really the point).

It was a good weekend in the sense that I made progress on the current paper (a nightmare of a Wordsworthian analysis) and I'm fairly pleased with what I have so far, but am simultaneously trying hard not to feel too smug as it's for a professor who tends to like the same papers of mine that I've written off as truly bizarre. Still, as it's for a mere survey class, he might not be quite as demanding...though I might as well add that I'm afraid I'm going to be upset if he doesn't hold me to the same standards as he did last semester. We shall see.

The really big news (for me, anyway) was that I crossed over the 40,000 word mark. The only way I could be happier was if I'd managed to complete the first third of AO's plot in those pages. My transitions from one scene to another need work as well, but so far I've managed to convince myself to keep going and not go backwards to do any major rewrites--though this record might change if I hit another bad patch of writer's block. Keeping my fingers crossed seems like an excellent idea at this point.

Still engrossed by Leigh Richard's Califia's Daughters. Am fairly certain that the reason I've been reading it in smaller chunks is that I don't want it to end. Not that I expect this technique to work, but it would be nice if it did.