(no subject)
I slept like a normal person today. As going to bed at 2 and waking up at 10 is very normal. Because it is. 8 hours is perfect.
I keep trying on getting ahold of you, Wakkeen! Where are you? Clearly not by a phone.
I think I shall harass Rian next then.
Beware your ring tones.
They know things.
Last night I woke up and had one of those thoughts that I absolutely HAVE to write down, because I'll never remember them if I don't. They're usually more plot ideas for my books, particularly when I have Writer's Block, which is my arch-nemesis of all time, but every once in a while I come up with things that don't make sense. I think I was in a sleep-induced stupor or something when I wrote what I did last night, because I read it this morning on my little Coffee Man notepad and it said, "They make thimbles that are smarter than me."
I really must ponder about that sometime.
I finished Life, Love, and the Pursuit of Other Things That Involve Dishy Blokes! Took me long enough. What an odd ending. There was no closure to speak of. And the old people on the cruise sounded particularly awful. I wanted to smack Melba Toast for all I was worth. You can ask mum. I was in the carseat next to her, just seething away at the ancients.
I'll probably start The Mountain's Call today. I'm completely ignoring Circus of the Damned, or else I really shall be the inferior to a thimble. What terrible books. I can't for the life of me (or death, for that matter) figure out why I'm still reading them. Probably just for the sake of it. Shoot me.
I keep trying on getting ahold of you, Wakkeen! Where are you? Clearly not by a phone.
I think I shall harass Rian next then.
Beware your ring tones.
They know things.
Last night I woke up and had one of those thoughts that I absolutely HAVE to write down, because I'll never remember them if I don't. They're usually more plot ideas for my books, particularly when I have Writer's Block, which is my arch-nemesis of all time, but every once in a while I come up with things that don't make sense. I think I was in a sleep-induced stupor or something when I wrote what I did last night, because I read it this morning on my little Coffee Man notepad and it said, "They make thimbles that are smarter than me."
I really must ponder about that sometime.
I finished Life, Love, and the Pursuit of Other Things That Involve Dishy Blokes! Took me long enough. What an odd ending. There was no closure to speak of. And the old people on the cruise sounded particularly awful. I wanted to smack Melba Toast for all I was worth. You can ask mum. I was in the carseat next to her, just seething away at the ancients.
I'll probably start The Mountain's Call today. I'm completely ignoring Circus of the Damned, or else I really shall be the inferior to a thimble. What terrible books. I can't for the life of me (or death, for that matter) figure out why I'm still reading them. Probably just for the sake of it. Shoot me.