The Glass Half Full

Today started badly with a rejection of my BU abstract: I guess I won't be going to Boston this November, once again. My disappointment was offset by the fact that the reviews were mostly fair and helpful (if I ever think of redoing this piece of research), but was heightened by the consideration that my success rate with conferences and papers in recent years is woeful compared to a time when I was more research active, and when anything less than 80% seemed like failure. So at 9:30am I was feeling pretty flat.

Less than two hours and one class later, however, it's clear to me that I don't actually care that much and that there are things that matter much more than a line on my cv. (I'm happy for those who can do both life and career advancement equally well, but I'm not one of those, and I'm happy with my compromise.) The twist is that if I did care more, I'd put more time and energy into writing more, and better, abstracts and my success rate would increase. It's good to know what counts and to have the security to be able to fail at the unimportant things without worrying about the next paycheck. [Punctuate the last sentence (,) as you will.]

(My mood was also improved by listening to my first year students' presentations of English singer-songwriters with text analysis. Happy are those who get to teach courses like this. Usually, this is the day when they take revenge on me force-feeding them Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell for 10 weeks by playing 1D and Taylor Swift, but today I was introduced to Laura Marling, Shawn Mendes — hardly in Joni Mitchell's league, but not awful for an 18 year old — and one group discussed Eric Clapton's Wonderful Tonight, an all time favourite).

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All things considered, it's a good day, then. (As for BU, I'll try harder next year.)