I have been over here hyperventilating about my Fulbright application. Though I started preparing several months ago, and am well on track to finishing before the deadline, my heart beats fast every time I think about it, put paper to pen, or fingers to keyboard, and work on my proposal (I will share some elements when I gather my thoughts).

My proposed project is in creative writing, of course, which is my forte, so why am I so shook? I guess it's just having applied to so many residencies this year and being rejected, having now had too much par for the course I think one more might break me. I wish I could so easily set an intention, submit my application, and release it to the universe with no expectations. It would be marvelously Zen of me. But I want it too much to be so casual about it.

I am not good with deadlines. So I quit my writers workshop (yes, the one I started not three weeks ago) because I realized there was no way to find ten extra hours a week to read my colleagues manuscripts and submit feedback while trying to find ten extra hours to work on this application. I am on the fence about the Akwa Ibom Convention this weekend because I should really be writing. And I'm giving myself an upset stomach.

There's a possibility that I'm blowing this whole thing out of proportion. There's also the possibility that I'm not. At any rate, I just hope to feel less sick over the next couple of months.

Writing mercies please! --AL.