from where i'm sitting
Didn't make it to the Invitational. Instead spent a pile of money and turned my bedroom into a generic IKEA home, with white square furniture and a firm black square mini-couch. The futon is gone. This desk and attached bookshelf thing is almost too big for the room, but I have a workspace. It's an improvement, and who was I ever impressing anyway?
In other news, Ellipsis is banned from my room for at least two weeks, as per Jeff (as per the internet)'s advice that this will help the pissing stop. Yeah, she did it again, ruining my old book bag (the gift last birthday from mom and dad, now reeking and living in the trash... could have been worse... it could have been my new $200 timbuk2 replacement bag).
I haven't written or edited recently. I've been devoting a lot of time to dismantling and reconstructing a bedroom, a project which is only like 75% done now and has left me a little broker than I'm admitting to myself for the next two weeks. I rewatched all four Futurama movies, four or so original Star Trek episodes, The Squid and the Whale, and all three Lost episodes I was behind on.
So my catless little all-white room with its more shelves and its new computer (facing the TV... dangerous) is more encompassing than ever, it seems. And so it goes.
Tomorrow night's Writing Group, possibly preceded by a quick meeting with Jon (if not then, then soon!) about the music video project, which time is escaping us on. He's out of town all June! Shit. And Open, for fuck's fucking sake. Oh, and since I did submit TWOMP to Sundance Institute, looks like I have two scripts to rush done. Good thing I have no social life nor any prospects for one. Or so I tell myself, so as to stave off crying myself to sleep every night.
I'll save that for my wedding night.
In other news, Ellipsis is banned from my room for at least two weeks, as per Jeff (as per the internet)'s advice that this will help the pissing stop. Yeah, she did it again, ruining my old book bag (the gift last birthday from mom and dad, now reeking and living in the trash... could have been worse... it could have been my new $200 timbuk2 replacement bag).
I haven't written or edited recently. I've been devoting a lot of time to dismantling and reconstructing a bedroom, a project which is only like 75% done now and has left me a little broker than I'm admitting to myself for the next two weeks. I rewatched all four Futurama movies, four or so original Star Trek episodes, The Squid and the Whale, and all three Lost episodes I was behind on.
So my catless little all-white room with its more shelves and its new computer (facing the TV... dangerous) is more encompassing than ever, it seems. And so it goes.
Tomorrow night's Writing Group, possibly preceded by a quick meeting with Jon (if not then, then soon!) about the music video project, which time is escaping us on. He's out of town all June! Shit. And Open, for fuck's fucking sake. Oh, and since I did submit TWOMP to Sundance Institute, looks like I have two scripts to rush done. Good thing I have no social life nor any prospects for one. Or so I tell myself, so as to stave off crying myself to sleep every night.
I'll save that for my wedding night.