I'm sick like a monster. (Do monsters get sick?) Crying makes my throat raw, and therefore makes me sick.
Maybe I'm so sick it feels like a monster is ravaging my poor little body. Not that it's particularly poor or little. Huh.
I'm hoping to get a call back on several things, including a potential car, my settlement woman on word of how exactly I'm going to pay thus mentioned new car... etc. Mostly car stuff.
I watched Julie and Julia this weekend and it made me want to be a professional writer more than any craving I've recently had. I studied rather voraciously last night and about every five minutes found myself asking God if I could just go pro (writer) and stop everything else. I think he probably just smiled at me and told me to keep at it.
It's time to get back to "the schedule." I have a little spreadsheet of all the times and places and things that I need to accomplish. That sentence didn't make any sense.
Why is it that some days I feel inspired to write something brilliant, and others I feel like a nerd-ball and that I have nothing funny or particularly interesting to say? That's frustrating. I don't like to hear the danglings of anyone's thoughts any more than I can imagine they'd want to read mine.
Although today is Monday, I'm not particularly exhausted (which is a big deal). However, I don't particularly want to do anything, which isn't so rare. My mind is other places. I'm thinking of good things, but I'd rather be sitting in a coffee shop and writing about them than sitting in my office and wondering about them.
A funny story about Joanna and I shall follow later in the day, or perhaps the week. I can't do it justice at this moment.
To the few of you that actually read this, I love, neigh, adore you.
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