I worked on “The Distant Sun” a little more this morning. Not even a full page, and I ran out of steam. I find editing my fiction writing so draining. I’m not going to push it, because I will be working on my prospectus for hours today.
It sounds like we may not get a vaccine till May or June. The site specifies “spring,” which I guess is not incorrect, since those months are technically spring.
I am going to be teaching online again this summer.
The two of us having vaccines wouldn’t change much. Things are still going to be locked down until nearly everyone has a vaccine, I imagine.
When I look at my journal entries from February 2020 and earlier, I feel I am looking at writing from years ago, or another life. It’s not only the pandemic that has changed things, but also politics. When I’m out, among people, I have a terrible, repressive feeling. It makes me yearn all the more for outdoor concerts, road trips, things that are not really possible.
Even pre-pandemic, I had a plan in mind to travel to Aurora, Texas for a day and see the alien grave and anything else Aurora might hold. Once it gets warmer, I should do that. If I finish my prospectus early, I will have some spare time while I’m waiting for my advisors to get back to me on it. I also want to explore Venus.
Sunlight-Colored Roses 