19 April 2001
All right, here's what you should do. Read Anne Sexton's Transformations. Wow. Just, wow. Those poems are amazing. Tim gets bonus points for recommending them. If I kept score like my Grandma Lingen does, I'd even write the points down. They're big points. Good points. Yep. Wow.
I'm trying to figure out what to get my mom and Michelle for their birthdays. We don't seem to do birthday presents with the Gritters, just cards, although if Mark wants to change that, I can. But we also need to get a birthday card for Dave-my-father-in-law. And probably for Hilary, although no rush on that one. I just got my birthday card for my last birthday from Hilary on Monday. She figured better late than never. I figure she's right. I like mail. Even when it's not an acceptance letter. Not, of course, that I'd complain about one of those.
The Delacorte people are supposed to get back to me about Fortress of Thorns by April 30. The date is conveniently at the top of this journal, in case you tend to forget what day it is. So, you know, any day now, I'd be fine with hearing. They can be a little early. I wouldn't mind. I don't even care if it's a rejection. (< -- boldfaced lie) I just want to be able to get on with things. (< -- true) These people have my phone number. I freaked out when the department secretary from Stanford called yesterday. "This is Maggie McLoughlin." "Yes???" "From Stanford's computer science department." "Oh." "I wanted to let you know that Mark's expense check has been deposited." "Oh. Thanks." Grrrrr.
And then I found out that Clarion West's "no" letter to Timprov took twelve days to get here. The obvious conclusion my brain is drawing: I have already been rejected by mail. I just don't know it yet.
So this sounds a little neurotic. I'm sure none of you would be in the slightest bit nervous in my situation. You'd just put it out of your mind. You'd bake scones and sing along with the Shirelles. Or drink clam chowder and read Hesse. Or something. Yeah, well. I'm not you. If I was, you'd be pretty bored reading this journal.
Of course, maybe you already are. See? Preemptive rejection works in so many ways.
And the main page.
Or the last entry.
Or the next one.
Or even send me email.