Today, I was more productive than a bulimic bee and what I made, ten times so sweet.

In theory.

What I made was a lot of progress, much of it thanks to the use of my very own shared undergrad who is ambitious and loveable and seems to love scut work. It's glorious, though we may have to go back and fix (or teach her to fix) a variety of issues she may or may not have accidentally incurred in the process of handling a mind-numbing amount of stimuli. Still, it's a beautiful thing.

What I ALSO made was an application for an NSF Fellowship, which I'm unlikely to get, but which yielded a lot of helpful essays that I'll almost certainly further polish and use in applying to the DOD* Fellowship which I have what is probably a slightly better chance of getting, mostly due to there being a lot more funding put towards dealing with prosthetics thanks to the Iraq War. And, see, I deal with prosthetics. Also? What I do can theoretically be applied to weaponry and overall military tech. But that's just a happy/unhappy coincidence. And if it's double, then I can afford all sorts of fancy new things. Toys, clothes, food better than eggs cooked in various forms, scar removal, a tattoo, brail implantation on my hand, a nicer apartment. A monkey that wears a smoking jacket. The possibilities are endless.

Anyhow, just because it might amuse y'all, up next is the horrible, dull, poorly-written, and overall uninspiring essays I set out in my name to fight as my champions. They are probably going to lose. Only one of them even knows which end of the sword counts as "pointy". Things don't look good for our ragtag band.




*Yes, that Department of Defense. If I get THAT grant, it's twice the money, half the pressure from above, and a guaranteed place of employment for the first couple years out the PhDoor**. And besides, super deathkill cyber-soldiers free from the weaknesses of morality and the flesh. Come ON, that's COOL. Damn.

**I know it's not funny. Or clever. It's an abomination level "joke". And your disappointment and pain is the punchline. Haha, not really. I'm just crashing harder than the Titanic, if the Titanic had been one of those unlikely flying boats from videogames and fantasy stories. And was made of lead. With rocket engines accidentally aimed upwards, driving it careening past its natural terminal velocity to cause massive property damage and loss of life in a small-to-middling town unluckily situated under its flight-path. And all the passengers are, like, really fat. Robots. Really, really fat robots.