not a lot left
It was a solid day's work. I am tired as hell. As soon as I finish this episode of Buffy that I put on to watch while I had my dinner, I'm going to bed.
Unfortunately the story I'm writing isn't getting actually put down, but I am going over it in my mind a lot. Unlike in the past, the story isn't just springing into my mind fully formed; I have to actually think about it. I think I'm getting there. Man, why's it so hard to write angsty smut all of a sudden? I haven't had this problem before. I must REALLY be tired.
Also I am putting the pieces into place to revise FirstWorld. Like with everything, I'm just going very, very slowly.
Everything but my job job. I pretty much rocked today. I almost made it through without saying anything inappropriate ... not quite, but only a few quizzical looks today. And I didn't flip out on anybody, though, and I am sad to confess this, I had to do a little singing under my breath. It calms me. I feel bad; I know it must be annoying. I should develop a different nervous/angry habit that is more silent; just because I have an office doesn't mean that everything that goes on in there isn't fairly clearly audible to the people around me. Alternately, I can try what one of my neighbors has done, and get a white-noise generator. Surely some broke-ass Sharper Image noise machine can be obtained.
Very sad, and yet inspired, reading about George Tiller. That man was a hero.
Unfortunately the story I'm writing isn't getting actually put down, but I am going over it in my mind a lot. Unlike in the past, the story isn't just springing into my mind fully formed; I have to actually think about it. I think I'm getting there. Man, why's it so hard to write angsty smut all of a sudden? I haven't had this problem before. I must REALLY be tired.
Also I am putting the pieces into place to revise FirstWorld. Like with everything, I'm just going very, very slowly.
Everything but my job job. I pretty much rocked today. I almost made it through without saying anything inappropriate ... not quite, but only a few quizzical looks today. And I didn't flip out on anybody, though, and I am sad to confess this, I had to do a little singing under my breath. It calms me. I feel bad; I know it must be annoying. I should develop a different nervous/angry habit that is more silent; just because I have an office doesn't mean that everything that goes on in there isn't fairly clearly audible to the people around me. Alternately, I can try what one of my neighbors has done, and get a white-noise generator. Surely some broke-ass Sharper Image noise machine can be obtained.
Very sad, and yet inspired, reading about George Tiller. That man was a hero.