I’m trying to write my Ph.D. This is what I energetically repeat to myself every morning and despairingly every evening. I’ve tried to relay different strategies for work—everything from a regular Hemingwayesque 9–6pm schedule every morning at my desk, to snippets stolen in between lecturing and grading during my regular university teaching semester. Of course Hemingway had children in Paris as he wrote his fiction, but it seems to me that his wife Hadley would have kept the children quiet while Papa was working. Also, he probably didn’t have an open plan desk connected to our open kitchen the way that we do in our apartment.

I do have a nanny and her name is Apple. She takes excellent care of Baby A and I love her dearly. She is integral to my wellbeing as well as Baby A and so I give thanks everyday that she exists and loves working for, and being part of our family.

Writing my Ph.D, running 2 Chinese Diaspora projects, lecturing full-time at university, taking care of my family, and trying to maintain some semblance of a social life sometimes takes its toll on me. There are things that I have given up— cooking, wearing make-up, and shopping (except for online at Amazon and Taobao).