... I just realized the reason nothing was making sound was because my speakers were off
So, status report.
I'm slowly reminding myself what it's like to write things I actually want to write, where I actually care about each and every little word that I hesitantly put on the page. It's blowing dust off bits of my brain and it's slow going, made slower by the fact that the universe just does /not/ want me to be productive, for it continues to throw rather effective distractions in my way, of which uterus knots are only one.
I have to trek downtown today, although they finally seem to have made route planning something a human beinga can actually do, so mabye I'll take the bus one way or another. There's grocery shopping. There's laundry so I don't have to wear ice cream splattered pants to work tomorrow.
There's the fact that my parents have deposited a stack of old video tapes with things like episodes of the X-Files on them in my apartment, but I need to punch the VCR into working.
And there's the bit where my PS2 has finally surrendered itself to Disc Read Error. There is wailing, there is gnashing of teeth, and there is the dull realization that me and my unsteady hands are going to be forced to have a go at it to see if I can fix what's wrong.
I do not forsee this going well, but I also just can't put it off. When things don't work, I get ... irritable.
Not how I want to spend my free day,
Ingrid, Signing Off
I'm slowly reminding myself what it's like to write things I actually want to write, where I actually care about each and every little word that I hesitantly put on the page. It's blowing dust off bits of my brain and it's slow going, made slower by the fact that the universe just does /not/ want me to be productive, for it continues to throw rather effective distractions in my way, of which uterus knots are only one.
I have to trek downtown today, although they finally seem to have made route planning something a human beinga can actually do, so mabye I'll take the bus one way or another. There's grocery shopping. There's laundry so I don't have to wear ice cream splattered pants to work tomorrow.
There's the fact that my parents have deposited a stack of old video tapes with things like episodes of the X-Files on them in my apartment, but I need to punch the VCR into working.
And there's the bit where my PS2 has finally surrendered itself to Disc Read Error. There is wailing, there is gnashing of teeth, and there is the dull realization that me and my unsteady hands are going to be forced to have a go at it to see if I can fix what's wrong.
I do not forsee this going well, but I also just can't put it off. When things don't work, I get ... irritable.
Not how I want to spend my free day,
Ingrid, Signing Off