20151124.0721

I would seem to have overslept somewhat. I am not pleased with having done so, although I recognize that if I did, I likely needed to do so. I am not on a set schedule today in any event, so it matters only insofar as I have missed out on some of the quiet morning time I would have spent working. There will be other time to work. Ms. 8 will sleep, and I can work then. The Mrs. will get home from work, and I can work then. And I can get to work soon after I am done writing this; I will want to eat a bit before I do, which I think a good thing. So I should be fine; I should be able to get done much of what I want to get done.

I had meant to do more of it yesterday. It was, as I noted, an easy day for me; I should have been in good shape when I got home from work. I was not, though; I was inexplicably tired, and so I did not do the work that I ought to have done. Yes, I read the novel I needed to read, and it read easily and well, but I did not do as much of the writing as I ought to have done. Nor did I do the writing on another couple of projects that I should have done. Neither event pleases me. But things have fallen out as they have; I cannot adjust what happened now, only what will happen going forward, and that only to a limited extent. I should direct my energies thither.

I am informed suddenly--by which I mean that I received notice by email while composing this entry on my blogroll--that I will be presenting a paper at the next International Congress on Medieval Studies, in addition to presiding over a regular session and a special session, as well as a dinner. It will be a busy May, to be sure, and I will have a bit of a busy time leading up to it; I get to write the paper now, as well as making a few adjustments to some of my professional profiles. It is welcome work, and I look forward to getting it done--although, given the paper, there are some worries...I should be fine, of course, one way or another, but there are things for which I will need to watch that might otherwise not have been the case.

If I am worried about voicing such ideas, though, perhaps I ought not to do so. If I am worried, it is either because I think the idea insufficiently good or I think myself insufficiently convinced of it to be able to voice it and, perhaps, defend it against attacks. In neither case do I well acquit myself as a scholar, and I have struggled long to stand as one. All I need do is write an excellent paper, something I ought to be doing anyway. Even if the idea is somewhat unconventional, if the paper works well, it works well. And if it is attacked, it is attacked; if the paper is good, it will endure the assault, and I and those who hear the paper will be better off for the work.