I was going to write about spirituality today. I was going to write about my “Keys to the Kingdom” class and the impact its commitment has had on me. I was write as smoothly as I’d ever written, connecting my kitty commitment to self-commitment to spiritual commitment to whatever-commitment.
But I can’t. I’m too excited. In fact, right now, I’m too excited to do much of anything, including sleep.
That’ll probably bite me in the butt later. But for now it’s fine, just fine. In fact, it’s better than fine.
As I was stumbling and fumbling around after a one hour nap between work and church, unbeknownst to me, my Gmail account was being assaulted by an insistence to give me money.
For writing, at that. Today, I officially became a paid writer.
I had entered two contests a few weeks ago, one for a GPA scholarship award, and another one for an essay contest.
Some of you may remember the Shakespeare paper from last spring. It’s ok if you don’t; it’s almost been a year. It was the paper in which I discovered I am a feminist. It was a paper that I had written from a title that was both so perfect for the topic and my own personal kink in the academic world. It was “Women in Bondage: Soundless Submission and Degradation in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
While I was proofing the paper (and thinking, how on earth did I ever think this was a good paper with all of the grammatical mistakes), I was thinking, “Wouldn’t it be funny if it won? THIS paper, of all papers?”
And it did. And I think that it is so perfect for being that paper.
But I also won the GPA one.
My first reaction is “I can’t believe it,” but I’ve been told I need to reprogram my brain, instead think, “It’s good enough to be true.”
It is definitely that, too. And it’s not a small award, financially speaking. Between the two of them, the amount was about half of a semester’s tuition.
And I have to go to bed. I have to get some sleep. I have to get my homework done.