217 words saying "I'll write more words later"
I am refusing to let myself socialize tonight until I've updated my damn journal with at least four of the notable things from last week written up (cursorily or otherwise) and accounted for. So there. My withered Introvert Batteries need a perfunctory recharge, anyhoo.
Aaaaand right on cue, just as I finished up that last paragraph, Brian came knocking on my door and before I could say "my withered Introvert Batteries etc." he'd offered to buy me dinner and I was showing him seven video podcasts by a bitter Australian game reviewer. In other words, it's an ordinary evening. He doesn't ordinarily show up unannounced; I pretty much karmically forced that to happen by typing "I am refusing to let myself socialize tonight." Ha!
So now he's watching Invader Zim, and frankly, watching cartoons suddenly seems absolutely like the exact thing I want to make my brain handle. It hasn't handled anything else terribly well today, but I have faith that it's capable of dealing with Invader Zim. If I have any spine at all, in a few hours I'll demand solitude and write the thing I meant to write. If the cartoons turn my brain (and/or spine) to mush TOO EFFICIENTLY, however, I'll probably just sleep for eight hours and optimistically plan to update my journal Saturday morning.
Aaaaand right on cue, just as I finished up that last paragraph, Brian came knocking on my door and before I could say "my withered Introvert Batteries etc." he'd offered to buy me dinner and I was showing him seven video podcasts by a bitter Australian game reviewer. In other words, it's an ordinary evening. He doesn't ordinarily show up unannounced; I pretty much karmically forced that to happen by typing "I am refusing to let myself socialize tonight." Ha!
So now he's watching Invader Zim, and frankly, watching cartoons suddenly seems absolutely like the exact thing I want to make my brain handle. It hasn't handled anything else terribly well today, but I have faith that it's capable of dealing with Invader Zim. If I have any spine at all, in a few hours I'll demand solitude and write the thing I meant to write. If the cartoons turn my brain (and/or spine) to mush TOO EFFICIENTLY, however, I'll probably just sleep for eight hours and optimistically plan to update my journal Saturday morning.