Today is one of those Fake Tuesdays: the ones after a three-day weekend that pretends it’s a Monday. And it feels that way. It feels long, slow, and tiring. It feels like one of those days where you want to stay in bed and sleep the day away.
It was a little like that yesterday as I returned to The Undisclosed Location. The traffic wasn’t bad, but the time felt way off. It was alternately sunny and gloomy, and when I stepped out of the car, it felt like I’d entered a steam bath.
Then I drifted off to sleep–and woke up at 3 AM. Lay in bed until the alarm went off, hoping against hope that I’d doze off and get a little dream time in. Nope, not a chance. The motto of The Undisclosed Location is, “Never Give a Sucker An Even Break,” and guess who is playing the role of The Sucker?
Needless to say, keeping my mind focused on something for long is a bit of a struggle. The mind feels like swiss cheese, and the body feels a little cold–probably caused by, as someone mentioned, a combination of low blood pressure and stress. It doesn’t matter: the brain is feeling like it needs a road trip, and the body is saying, “Wait . . . I thought you were flying?”
As usually happens when I get bored or tired, my mind starts wandering to different things, different stories, different ideas. I haven’t been all over the place as I often am, but the mind keeps slipping away to another place–
Somewhere about thirty thousand light years distant, to be exact.
For some reason, I’m going over the plight–well, sort of semi-life–of a character I once made for an aborted Star Trek role playing game–one that I’ve often referred to as the worst game I’ve ever played. I loved the character, and the history I created for him, but if I were given the choice of going back in time and gaming with the same bunch, or having a body part gnawed off by a rabid squirrel, I’d take the latter option.
There was a time, however, when I wasn’t doing anything between sessions of dealing with idiots and munchkins, and given that time I wrote. I don’t want to say what I was doing was fanfic, but it was. Or maybe I was just writing history, since my fanfic didn’t involve my character getting involved with any green women.
But I’ve been drawn back to this limited story, not just yesterday, but today. I think it was because I was looking up something that ended up in a scene, and it got me thinking about what I’d written a couple of years back. I know that nothing I wrote back then was worth a damn, but it gave me a little bit of peace, because it helped me deal with the fact that I was gaming with hyper-spacial doucherockets.
Will I do anything with this work? Probably not. Maybe take it out and read it, cringing here and there when I come across a bad line or three.
Still . . . it’s on my mind. Can’t tell you if that’s good or bad.