You don't mind if we fight for you, do you?
I went to bed at 5 am to the words of two people I admire very much, and slept deeply until my father called, four hours later. At this rate, my mother will soon be short one husband. I cleaned up my inbox, stopped by then, checked on the chatroom and the various boards. I don't have time to blog-hop anymore.
I really needed to unwind. My back is so cramped from hours spent on the computer, my muscles have begun to seize. I went over to Neil's for (decaffeinated) coffee, and he insisted that I take a nap, but I couldn't seem to turn off. Back massage (Neil is very well trained), warm drink, hot bath, nothing would do it. In the end, I lied down on the couch in front of the Hallmark channel, and was out like a light in under a minute. I should have thought of that straight away. I got three full hours, and I feel ready to tackle tonight's strategy session.
I told R that I missed writing; I just want to go back to writing. And I told Max that writing was like sinking to the bottom of a lake, and discovering that you can breathe. I haven't been breathing too well all week. John is patient, lingering on the side-lines, supportive. I haven't lost the feel of him, despite the tiredness, the stress and the distraction. I worried about that. Still, at times I just want to say 'The Hell with all this, I'm just a writer,' grab John, and take the level risers to the very bottom of Tesaris to curl up in the dark. Wait out the storm. Be selfish.
Then I receive thanks, and I don't deserve them. It's not about thanks. I was given John, and this universe; I give this little bit in return.
I went to bed at 5 am to the words of two people I admire very much, and slept deeply until my father called, four hours later. At this rate, my mother will soon be short one husband. I cleaned up my inbox, stopped by then, checked on the chatroom and the various boards. I don't have time to blog-hop anymore.
I really needed to unwind. My back is so cramped from hours spent on the computer, my muscles have begun to seize. I went over to Neil's for (decaffeinated) coffee, and he insisted that I take a nap, but I couldn't seem to turn off. Back massage (Neil is very well trained), warm drink, hot bath, nothing would do it. In the end, I lied down on the couch in front of the Hallmark channel, and was out like a light in under a minute. I should have thought of that straight away. I got three full hours, and I feel ready to tackle tonight's strategy session.
I told R that I missed writing; I just want to go back to writing. And I told Max that writing was like sinking to the bottom of a lake, and discovering that you can breathe. I haven't been breathing too well all week. John is patient, lingering on the side-lines, supportive. I haven't lost the feel of him, despite the tiredness, the stress and the distraction. I worried about that. Still, at times I just want to say 'The Hell with all this, I'm just a writer,' grab John, and take the level risers to the very bottom of Tesaris to curl up in the dark. Wait out the storm. Be selfish.
Then I receive thanks, and I don't deserve them. It's not about thanks. I was given John, and this universe; I give this little bit in return.
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