on commercials . . . .
"Joan of Arcadia" is a really cool show. I hope it sticks around for a while . . . although I'm not too positive about that, seeing that it's in the Friday Night Time Slot of Death.
Still, it manages to be serious without over-dramatizing everything, and tucks in a lot of humor that I appreciate. I'm not too keen on Mary Steenburgen as the mother, but she's growing on me.
Sooooo . . . I'm slowly seeing improvement in the whole DVT-recovery thing.
Very slowly.
Much too slowly for my taste.
But, you know, any improvement is better than none.
My outlook is better, probably thanks in part to the Lexapro -- although that's a real chicken-and-egg conundrum. You know -- is the antidepressant lifting my mood and thus encouraging my recovery . . . or is the improvement in my physical condition triggering the psychological boost?
I was surprised to see effects so quickly ( within less than two weeks ), but my doctor says that's why she prescribed it for me . . . it's supposed to be more fast-acting than many other antidepressants.
Hmm. It will be interesting to see if this stuff helps get me through my seasonal depression this year.
In other news, I'm back to poking at Medieval CLex. I think it's hopeless to actually submit it for the Historical Challenge, but I'd like to finish it just for my own satisfaction. Cjandre has been graciously ripping apart the story for me, with a number of very helpful suggestions for further work.
I really should have paid closer attention to the mechanics of plot advancement in creative writing class. I've been so caught up in the aesthetics of writing in something approximating Middle English . . . I've lost focus. Plot points are running amok, scenes are sprouting randomly . . . you get the idea.
This has turned into The Story That Ate My Brain.
Angel: "I really liked your poetry."
Spike: "*You* like Barry Manilow!"
How funny was that scene? I fell off the bed laughing!
My poor ghostly Spike. I still think that he is woefully under-appreciated. He should come to live with me . . . I will soothe and cuddle him and provide him with anything he could possibly want. Including lots of wild sex.
Ahem. There I go again with the TMI.
So, yeah. Anyway. Back to poking at Medieval CLex. :: waves :: And perhaps, to indulge in a dish of Edy's Pumpkin Pie ice cream.
Yum.
Still, it manages to be serious without over-dramatizing everything, and tucks in a lot of humor that I appreciate. I'm not too keen on Mary Steenburgen as the mother, but she's growing on me.
Sooooo . . . I'm slowly seeing improvement in the whole DVT-recovery thing.
Very slowly.
Much too slowly for my taste.
But, you know, any improvement is better than none.
My outlook is better, probably thanks in part to the Lexapro -- although that's a real chicken-and-egg conundrum. You know -- is the antidepressant lifting my mood and thus encouraging my recovery . . . or is the improvement in my physical condition triggering the psychological boost?
I was surprised to see effects so quickly ( within less than two weeks ), but my doctor says that's why she prescribed it for me . . . it's supposed to be more fast-acting than many other antidepressants.
Hmm. It will be interesting to see if this stuff helps get me through my seasonal depression this year.
In other news, I'm back to poking at Medieval CLex. I think it's hopeless to actually submit it for the Historical Challenge, but I'd like to finish it just for my own satisfaction. Cjandre has been graciously ripping apart the story for me, with a number of very helpful suggestions for further work.
I really should have paid closer attention to the mechanics of plot advancement in creative writing class. I've been so caught up in the aesthetics of writing in something approximating Middle English . . . I've lost focus. Plot points are running amok, scenes are sprouting randomly . . . you get the idea.
This has turned into The Story That Ate My Brain.
Angel: "I really liked your poetry."
Spike: "*You* like Barry Manilow!"
How funny was that scene? I fell off the bed laughing!
My poor ghostly Spike. I still think that he is woefully under-appreciated. He should come to live with me . . . I will soothe and cuddle him and provide him with anything he could possibly want. Including lots of wild sex.
Ahem. There I go again with the TMI.
So, yeah. Anyway. Back to poking at Medieval CLex. :: waves :: And perhaps, to indulge in a dish of Edy's Pumpkin Pie ice cream.
Yum.