I don’t have a wealth of things to write about this week. Having completed my prospectus conclusion, I assembled all of my prospectus bits the other night. I laid them out on my kitchen table, page after page. Eight and a half pages. Seems somehow meager, even if the whole shebang only requires forty pages. I plan on revisiting my rough (but existing) prospectus one more time before taking Dr. Christie’s advice and scrapping everything. Recreating the prospectus from memory will be my Saturday/Sunday project.
I’ve been thinking a lot this week about how many of my classmates have read my work this semester. I’m kind of weirded out by it. I didn’t start feeling this way until I reflected on it the other night, but I feel naked. Not intellectually naked – I don’t feel stripped down in any greater existential sense, but I do feel exposed.
The “workshopping” element to the class has revealed my work ethic, if not my very capability. And standing next to some of the minds in this semester’s 8001, I feel as if I’ve squandered the opportunity be goaded, driven by some of my classmates.
Seth, in particular, is doing a masterful job of putting his prospectus together, and every time I read his work, I feel a combination of regret, envy, fascination, and –greatest – respect. Too, Sally obviously heeds some inner compulsion that not flagged yet, even this late in the semester.
I’m tired. I need some of whatever they’re drinking.
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