untitled plot bunny
Have you ever had one of those days where you're minding your own business and listening to a song, maybe a brand new song you've gotten a bit obsessed with, and that song just doesn't get out of your head? You just have to keep it on repeat or maybe, after a few other songs are played you have to shuffle back to that one song just to listen to it one...more...time?
Well, I'm living that right now. At this moment La Roux just won't shut up and its killing me. OK. It's not LITERALLY killing me, but if the song doesn't stop spinning through my brain soon I don't know what i'll end up doing...
And it's never a full refrain either. Its only ever a couple of words stuck on repeat, like a freaking broken record.
"AH! Shut up brain, I'm trying to work here! You know what work is right? Its that thing that keeps me living in the god forsaken city?!" Sighing heavily, I try to type out the rest of my sentence, only to realize that my train of thought has petered out into nothing.
That's another thing. When the 'Song Attacks' happen there's nothing that can stand in their way. Lord knows how many times I've tried to backtrack, reading my way through the last couple of paragraphs I'd written, only to realize...nothing. I just can't remember what my thought had been.
Ever happen to you? Not that last bit? Really?! You are SO. Lucky.
Damnit!
Why does this keep happening to me? I can't go on like this, not for much longer. Deadlines were made to be bent a little, sure, but this is just crazy now. My little problem with my so called 'Song Attacks' are going to blow my deadline out of the water. I'll never be able to get another writing gig again. GOD DAMNIT!
~~~~~
As she stepped into the kitchen that morning, eyes still tightly shut against the glare of the sun shining through the windows, all Caz could think was "Bloody Hell Woman! What is with all the racket this morning?"
And as usual, her roommate never actually answered a direct question that was aimed at her. "You have seriously got to stop watching BBC America, Gaz. You've never even been to the UK before and you're turning into a Brit more and more every day," said Jane, just barely being heard over the whir of the blender.
Slowly walking to the kitchen table, Caz plopped down onto the closes chair. With a groan, she clasped her had between her hands and, wincing, lowered it to the table top. "Please stop. Please, please, please, please, please...", she gasped out, rolling her head from side to side on the cool surface.
Jane chuckled as she stopped the blender and began pouring her smoothie into a tall glass. "Hungover again? Didn't you have a deadline you were trying to make...?"
Caz groaned again. "Yeah, but I couldn't think, so I figured I might as well go have fun instead of torturing myself." She slowly sat up, hands on the table to push herself up, and blearily tried to focus on the other girl. "At lease the music at the club drowned out the broken record that my brain has become", she grouched.
Jane peered at her friend over the edge of the glass as she drank, before responding. Caz didn't look any worse than usual, maybe she just needed a break. "Hm. Have you thought about what I said the other day? About seeing a doctor?"
Caz stood and shuffled to the counter. "You know I hate doctors, Jane," she said. Setting a few slices of bread in the toaster, she began to set up the coffee machine as well. "But I seriously can't take it anymore. I can't think, which means I can't work... And if I'm late on this piece like I was the last time, Jones is going to fry my ass. He's already told me enough times that, as much as he likes me, he can't keep making excuses as to why I'm not fired yet if I keep on submitting my pieces so late."
Well, I'm living that right now. At this moment La Roux just won't shut up and its killing me. OK. It's not LITERALLY killing me, but if the song doesn't stop spinning through my brain soon I don't know what i'll end up doing...
And it's never a full refrain either. Its only ever a couple of words stuck on repeat, like a freaking broken record.
"AH! Shut up brain, I'm trying to work here! You know what work is right? Its that thing that keeps me living in the god forsaken city?!" Sighing heavily, I try to type out the rest of my sentence, only to realize that my train of thought has petered out into nothing.
That's another thing. When the 'Song Attacks' happen there's nothing that can stand in their way. Lord knows how many times I've tried to backtrack, reading my way through the last couple of paragraphs I'd written, only to realize...nothing. I just can't remember what my thought had been.
Ever happen to you? Not that last bit? Really?! You are SO. Lucky.
Damnit!
Why does this keep happening to me? I can't go on like this, not for much longer. Deadlines were made to be bent a little, sure, but this is just crazy now. My little problem with my so called 'Song Attacks' are going to blow my deadline out of the water. I'll never be able to get another writing gig again. GOD DAMNIT!
~~~~~
As she stepped into the kitchen that morning, eyes still tightly shut against the glare of the sun shining through the windows, all Caz could think was "Bloody Hell Woman! What is with all the racket this morning?"
And as usual, her roommate never actually answered a direct question that was aimed at her. "You have seriously got to stop watching BBC America, Gaz. You've never even been to the UK before and you're turning into a Brit more and more every day," said Jane, just barely being heard over the whir of the blender.
Slowly walking to the kitchen table, Caz plopped down onto the closes chair. With a groan, she clasped her had between her hands and, wincing, lowered it to the table top. "Please stop. Please, please, please, please, please...", she gasped out, rolling her head from side to side on the cool surface.
Jane chuckled as she stopped the blender and began pouring her smoothie into a tall glass. "Hungover again? Didn't you have a deadline you were trying to make...?"
Caz groaned again. "Yeah, but I couldn't think, so I figured I might as well go have fun instead of torturing myself." She slowly sat up, hands on the table to push herself up, and blearily tried to focus on the other girl. "At lease the music at the club drowned out the broken record that my brain has become", she grouched.
Jane peered at her friend over the edge of the glass as she drank, before responding. Caz didn't look any worse than usual, maybe she just needed a break. "Hm. Have you thought about what I said the other day? About seeing a doctor?"
Caz stood and shuffled to the counter. "You know I hate doctors, Jane," she said. Setting a few slices of bread in the toaster, she began to set up the coffee machine as well. "But I seriously can't take it anymore. I can't think, which means I can't work... And if I'm late on this piece like I was the last time, Jones is going to fry my ass. He's already told me enough times that, as much as he likes me, he can't keep making excuses as to why I'm not fired yet if I keep on submitting my pieces so late."