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I decided to get out that copy of Stephen Aron’s American Confluence that I purchased five years ago and just couldn’t bear to read for reasons that seem stupid now. (Praised highly by one dissertation co-chair, published in the other dissertation co-chair’s regional series with a gushy blurb by him, deduced that because Aron was great and all that and a full professor, I couldn’t possibly even begin to measure up and it would just make me sad to know that for sure.)
Yes, I am a self-defeating insecure person. I’m trying to get over it.
I’m going to read it today (it’s not very long), figure out where I need to engage it, mark those passages with notes for further reflection, and move on. In more relevant news, I also found an “edited” spiralbound copy of the mss where I had already done some work on the very things I was despondent about yesterday. That’s yet a different copy than the one that Betsy looked at…so that makes twice that I made a run at this thing. Third time is charming, I’ve heard. I love it when my past self leaves little gifts for my forgetful present self to stumble across. Maybe I’ll find that I have completely finished a new better draft as well…
Probably not, but it’s pretty to think so.
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