Hey, everyone. I should put a counter on this page too -- I wonder how many people actually read this each day.
Still somewhat sick -- stayed home from work today and slept in to help recuperate. Still horrendous bags under my eyes and my throat is pretty bad, but my body doesn't feel quite as achy as it did yesterday. Hmm... hold on a sec -- I'm going to go put on some water for hot chocolate.
Okay, am back. Ugh, my kitchen is a mess. As soon as I finish this, I'm afraid it'll be dishes time. I've been neglecting the place a bit since I've either been sick or over at Dave's a lot lately, and neither Karina nor Kevin are too into housework (more accurately, they're pretty much slobs -- good thing they have other appealing qualities :-).
Hmmm...thinking about a bunch of stuff lately. Was really happy last night at David's -- so happy that I was sort of hyperaware of it, if that makes any sense. Happy enough that I wanted to capture that experience, that moment, (the whole thing, not just a snapshot of it (why is it that we so often take photos of things and not recordings? Is sight so much more important than sound? Why haven't we developed touch-recorders of some kind, so that sf-type feelies could really be done?)) to pull out and hold onto in those moments when I'm feeling like the world is too bleak to be borne. Not that I've ever actually felt suicidal -- I'm just much too pragmatic/optimistic (depends on your point of view) a person, and I know that my misery is unlikely to last...but sometimes it would be very good to be able to feel happy on cue. And I'd rather not rely on alchohol or drugs to do it for me (actually, call me an innocent, but I've never tried any drug other than liquor -- not even a cigarette -- maybe someday, but I just haven't felt a need for it, and I'm scared of possible consequences. Weird, especially since in some ways I feel like a writer should try to experience as much as possible in order to write effectively. Well, those can wait, at any rate. I'm generally on a Mary Anne-high in any case, and I'm moody enough without 'em).
Oof, rambling like crazy. Which probably means I should go write a story if the words are flowing this easily, but I don't really have any ideas on what I want to work on. There are a couple unfinished pieces lying around -- "The Prometheus Design" and "A Tale of Two Tellers" and of course the novel, but none of them sound particularly interesting right now. I'm actually collaborating on "A Tale" with Riffy, a net.friend of mine, and it's definitely my turn, but goddess-knows when I'll get to it.
Whine whine, complain complain, moan groan kvetch. I'm going to go drink my hot chocolate and try to do some dishes. I can at least be somewhat constructive even if I can't write.
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