There was something goofy with the computer last night, because I’m trying to edit and it’s making everything on the system drag. Not to mention I was in one of those, “I do everything at once!” modes last night. And my hair was driving me nuts, too. What is causing this? It’s not a full moon, that’s for sure. The aftermath of a blue moon? A change in the weather? The impending end of Breaking Bad and the downfall of the Heisenberg Meth Empire?
Don’t want to say it’s aliens, but . . .
I realized yesterday that this coming Monday is Labor Day, and I’ll be spending it in The Burg alone. In the past I was always around family during holidays, even when working in The Undisclosed Location. This time–no. Too far to drive. I suppose if I were crazy enough I could leave out Friday night, spend ten hours in the dark driving, and arrive home about one in the morning–only to turn around and come back on Monday. But that’s not how you do it. That’s a waste of time and money.
I suppose I’ll get through Maybe it’s time to explore . . .
I haven’t started writing anything new yet, but I think this weekend could be the time to start. I’m getting to where I want to do something, but I don’t want to start on a novel or novella. I don’t want to spend a month putting another thirty thousand words down, because I’m going to turn around and do that in November. I’ve decided I will attempt NaNo, but I’m concerned I’ll actually “win” it this year. Anymore it’s not about winning or losing: it’s about writing a good story. It’s about doing something you can publish–
Which, speaking of publishing, I need to get on my own stuff. I need to do one last edit, then hand out my story and see about getting a cover. I’m slacking there, but it’s not as if I haven’t had a lot keeping my busy of late. The last month seems to have gone on and on with non-stop fun, though with September coming in things are starting to settle. I think the next few weeks will see everything getting into a normal swing. And once that happens, then I can start doing something else.
But I want that short story written. And with it an article or two I’ve been sitting upon. It need to be done. And soon.
There was something in my dreams last night that I found unusual. I was standing on the edge of something–building, hill, don’t know. And there were thousands of people in an area below me, all of them mumbling something. I looked out over them, then waved my hand and told them, “Go. Leave.” And they turned and started walking away, still mumbling, making their sounds.
I have no idea what that’s suppose to mean. Was I looking over the past and telling it to leave me the hell alone? Was it the present? Were they the people I knew or know? Or was it, you know, just a dream, one of those things where strange things happen–
‘Cause I was also stripping in the dream, too.
I didn’t look half bad.