I haven’t had time to write here in what seems like ages. This is mostly because I am constantly running to keep up with my schoolwork. I found out tonight that my six submissions due this semester are actually seven…which means I’ll be writing about…130-140 pages in 13 weeks. Plus a 15-20 page research paper (bleh). Did I mention that I have been assigned 25 books this semester (about 2 a week)? Oh, and I am reading 120 pages of my classmates’ writing every week. And working 10 hours a week. Good times.
The positive thing in all of this, well, actually there are many, but one great thing is that I am writing a lot. I finished what I think is Ch. 4 of my book today. A good, long 19-page chapter, that has a lot of important themes in it. So I am pysched about that. And with the above schedule, I should be able to crank out a lot more of those. So I will definitely have 100 pages-plus by February 1, when i have to turn in a draft for my thesis. I’d like to have 150 pags, but 120 would be nice too. That’s about half of a book, I guess.
I still have tendonitis in my hand/arm, which means I am trying to stay off the computer unless necessary. Needless to say, with all that writing to do, I am not staying off the computer very often. Plus, my little laptop is seriously like a part of my body. I am so used to getting my thoughts down on it that writing by hand just won’t do anymore. I get separation anxiety when i can’t use my laptop. It’s like a pet. Or my arm. So clearly, I am going to have to keep taking the anti-infammatory drugs for my arm and hope for the best.
Not much else happening now. I am reading Autobiography of an ex-colored man by James Weldon Johnson, and just finished After Long Silence by Helen Fremont, which I highly recommend. The writing is beautiful and the story is fascinating. And sad. I’ve got at least two other books to get through in the next week, but I have no idea what they are at the moment.
Oh! Last weekend was my birthday, and B. took me to see an amazing Ansel Adams exhibit at the MFA that I had really wanted to check out, and out to dinner at a yummy fusion-y sort of restaurant in Davis Square. There were also cards, calls, presents and surprises in the mail, so all in all it was a good birthday, despite the fact that I am now 33.
And now, I must veg on the couch and take a break from reading and words by watching baseball playoffs and flipping to Sex in the City reruns — or maybe Friends, depending on what’s on– during the commercials. Weird, yes, I know, but oddly satisfying.