It just takes some time, little girl...
It's interesting to be right smack dab in the middle of a very specific and limited time of my life - a finite time that I know I'll look back on someday and be able to characterize with a great deal of precision. Has anyone else had an experience like that?
What will it be that I remember? Latin? Sailing? Drinking far too much, far too often? My forays into debauchery? All the bike rides? Smallville?
It bothers me that I am not writing. I'm not sure why I can't, or don't - I have ideas, but somehow they're getting bottlenecked. Maybe because I'm afraid - because all the ideas require, as usual, an elaborate plot and world and epistemology. Or maybe I'm just apathetic. It takes work to write - good and fun and rewarding work, but work nonetheless. It's a lot easier to sit on the futon and *react* to things on television.
Maybe I'll remember it as the summer I stopped thinking. It feels like that sometimes, intensive Latin notwithstanding. Because Latin isn't THINKING so much as memorizing and regurgitating.
On the one hand, it's not bad to stop thinking for a while. It's been a long time since I've had a break. But on the other... well, isn't that just what an academic DOES? Think all the time? And why am I not reading? Why can't I pick up a book anymore? I want to read Orlando Furioso, and yet it just keeps slipping away.
On the up-side, though, Lisa will be back Tuesday through Sunday.. and I'm hoping that having her here will ground me again. It's true that when she's not here, I spend most of my time waiting for her to come home. Maybe that's why it's easier to watch TV than to write - when you're watching and reacting, you're still somewhere else. Rather than in the present, with the empty bed and the solitary futon and the incessant need to talk out loud.
And I could go out, I know - hang out more with friends, & etc. But the allure of alone-time, and the fear of fucking up royally YET AGAIN while under the influence of extroversion and alcohol and need tend to turn me into a hermit. It's for the best.
In other news, I've recently revisited the X-Files fangirl within. Specifically, I rediscovered Radclyffe's "Genesis" series - a novella-length fic that pairs Scully with a female OC who is just AWESOME. Seriously - I wish this woman had appeared on the show, *so damn much*! But yeah... it's fun and sexy and intertwines with the continuing plots of the show in a way that's very believable and QUITE entertaining. Go here if you feel like checking it out.
Here's a question for my flist, though: a) What was your FIRST fandom? and b) If you're an X-phile, what's your favorite XF fic?
What will it be that I remember? Latin? Sailing? Drinking far too much, far too often? My forays into debauchery? All the bike rides? Smallville?
It bothers me that I am not writing. I'm not sure why I can't, or don't - I have ideas, but somehow they're getting bottlenecked. Maybe because I'm afraid - because all the ideas require, as usual, an elaborate plot and world and epistemology. Or maybe I'm just apathetic. It takes work to write - good and fun and rewarding work, but work nonetheless. It's a lot easier to sit on the futon and *react* to things on television.
Maybe I'll remember it as the summer I stopped thinking. It feels like that sometimes, intensive Latin notwithstanding. Because Latin isn't THINKING so much as memorizing and regurgitating.
On the one hand, it's not bad to stop thinking for a while. It's been a long time since I've had a break. But on the other... well, isn't that just what an academic DOES? Think all the time? And why am I not reading? Why can't I pick up a book anymore? I want to read Orlando Furioso, and yet it just keeps slipping away.
On the up-side, though, Lisa will be back Tuesday through Sunday.. and I'm hoping that having her here will ground me again. It's true that when she's not here, I spend most of my time waiting for her to come home. Maybe that's why it's easier to watch TV than to write - when you're watching and reacting, you're still somewhere else. Rather than in the present, with the empty bed and the solitary futon and the incessant need to talk out loud.
And I could go out, I know - hang out more with friends, & etc. But the allure of alone-time, and the fear of fucking up royally YET AGAIN while under the influence of extroversion and alcohol and need tend to turn me into a hermit. It's for the best.
In other news, I've recently revisited the X-Files fangirl within. Specifically, I rediscovered Radclyffe's "Genesis" series - a novella-length fic that pairs Scully with a female OC who is just AWESOME. Seriously - I wish this woman had appeared on the show, *so damn much*! But yeah... it's fun and sexy and intertwines with the continuing plots of the show in a way that's very believable and QUITE entertaining. Go here if you feel like checking it out.
Here's a question for my flist, though: a) What was your FIRST fandom? and b) If you're an X-phile, what's your favorite XF fic?