The muse is a weird thing
You know how writers go through periods of alternate splendor (or so I hope) and mediocrity? I hate that. It makes no sense. Not that I should wonder, at this stage in my life. It's things making sense that stand out as odd. But from one day to the next. From one hour to the next? Once, I started out writing really sloppy sentences. They just wouldn't come out right, then as I was writing, suddenly something shifted and wonderful stuff started coming out. Then it went away again. Why can't I stay with the wonderfulness all the time?
In other news, I finally saw the third Ice Age movie. Two and a half times. That thing is hilarious. Cute baby dinosaurs. A deranged weasel. Mad laughter. Peril galore. And Sid being Sid: goofy, foolish, not very smart, but the result is great stuff.
ETA: I took a peek at the Doctor Who episode that's on TV right now, but it's that weeping angels one. I am not watching that again. That thing really scared me!
In other news, I finally saw the third Ice Age movie. Two and a half times. That thing is hilarious. Cute baby dinosaurs. A deranged weasel. Mad laughter. Peril galore. And Sid being Sid: goofy, foolish, not very smart, but the result is great stuff.
ETA: I took a peek at the Doctor Who episode that's on TV right now, but it's that weeping angels one. I am not watching that again. That thing really scared me!