Wednesday, November 10, 2004


I have come to the conclusion that in order to be a successful grant writer, you need to be able to write for a long time about topics that you know nothing about and have no interest in, without losing your mind.

I can only do this for about three hours a day and then I want to go and scream.

I have been doing this for about two and a half hours now.

If I could write for eight hours a day and not lose my ability to think, the damn thing would be done now. I sat during planning meetings wondering why everybody was so worried about getting these things done in a six-week period, and now I know. Right now the crap I'm spewing on the page is pre-writing, which just kind of orients us on what we are doing. Then I have to figure out how to incorporate this and that into whosits and which. And THEN I have to go and read articles to find evidential support for what I just said I want to do. And you would not believe how long it takes to tinker with these tables.

Bitch bitch bitch.

But all of this serves as a distraction from my persistent worry about Christian, who used to be such a sunny little guy, who is now addled with anxiety and whose possible Aspberger's is now starting to threaten that happiness and create problems for how he adapts to making friends, school work, changes in his routine, etc.

And today when Dereck and I were looking at the inventory I have to fill out that identifies certain characteristics of Aspberger's, we found more that apply to Sam than to Christian! I think I need to point that little inventory at my own self.

And so we need to call a specialist and have him evaluated and try to help him because his teen years are going to be tough.

I would rather write a grant.

I am going to go get a Dr. Pepper and see if that doesn't make me feel better.

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