destination unknown
Long email from Snow about her meeting with Neill. Reading it made me itchy. It made me want to go out and take a long walk. Or maybe what I really want is a long talk with him myself. I want to talk about....well, about everything. He'd know in about ten seconds that I have no idea what I'm doing with Crichton, with the bar, with any of it. It's like I threw a rock in a pond and now I'm supposed to orchestrate the ripples. It's not like managing projects. In a project, we always know what the goal is. We have an idea of what the end will look like, so we know it when we get there. But I don't know how to do that with all these people's lives that are rippling because I was trying to save myself and threw a rock.
The word is getting out about MindScape and about me. What I can do, what I will be doing. The watchers don't really get it, they just know that Aftershock Is Bad. But the solos get it. Having those particular folks paying attention to me is not the most comfortable experience. Last night, Jeanne Gordineau came into Solitaire--it's pretty impressive in a weird way how tense she can make a room just by walking into it--and I was making sandwiches, and she came up to the counter and stared at me until I said, "What?" If she'd been someone else I would have put down my knife, just to be polite, but with Gordineau it's important to send obvious messages. And she said, "What do you drink, petite soeur? I wish to buy it for you."
I couldn't have been more surprised if she'd turned into a giant blue cockatiel and started singing La Marseillaise. I drew myself a Redhook, and one for her, and she clinked my glass with a significant look and then wandered off to scare someone.
I don't know whether to like this or run screaming. If I ran, I'd probably just keep going right now.
The thing I would want to talk to Neill about is how it is that even if you have skills you just end up making things up all the time. Throwing rocks. So how do you know where you're going?
The word is getting out about MindScape and about me. What I can do, what I will be doing. The watchers don't really get it, they just know that Aftershock Is Bad. But the solos get it. Having those particular folks paying attention to me is not the most comfortable experience. Last night, Jeanne Gordineau came into Solitaire--it's pretty impressive in a weird way how tense she can make a room just by walking into it--and I was making sandwiches, and she came up to the counter and stared at me until I said, "What?" If she'd been someone else I would have put down my knife, just to be polite, but with Gordineau it's important to send obvious messages. And she said, "What do you drink, petite soeur? I wish to buy it for you."
I couldn't have been more surprised if she'd turned into a giant blue cockatiel and started singing La Marseillaise. I drew myself a Redhook, and one for her, and she clinked my glass with a significant look and then wandered off to scare someone.
I don't know whether to like this or run screaming. If I ran, I'd probably just keep going right now.
The thing I would want to talk to Neill about is how it is that even if you have skills you just end up making things up all the time. Throwing rocks. So how do you know where you're going?