On saying no

Have I finally learned how to say no?

In the last few days I've been asked to serve as a reviewer for the Journal of the History of Philosophy and the fellowship competition of the American Academy in Berlin. But my plate is already full, so I said no.

This, brethren and sistren, is a great breakthrough. It's always been very difficult for me to say no. My compliance has sometimes been a good thing. Some amount of professional service as referee and reviewer is both a duty and a privilege. Plus, I built a decent career in part by being the short-order cook of medieval philosophy:

"Can I get some Abelardian soteriology, with a side of Augustinian hermeneutics?"
"Coming right up!"

And there's a lifetime of being The Good Boy Who Always Does What He's Asked. (A note to mothers: if my friends and I are any indication, a cheerfully obedient son is a homosexual waiting to happen.) Those habits are hard to break.

I seem to have begun to break them.

And none too soon, because I'm swamped. My daily reading regimen in preparation for the GOE? Still not started. My meeting with Fr Mike to figure out how I can be useful around Saint Luke's? Haven't got around to it. Final revisions to the book? No time.

At least I've stopped adding to the mess.