Wednesday, January 12, 2005
( 10:23 PM ) Rebecca
This is much too late for me to be up writing. I am not one of those writers who gets their best work done late at night. Nope, my brain shuts down at 10 p.m. I am more of a morning-type-writer. Say 11 am to 2 pm.
But today I was forced to be at work at the ungodly hour of 9:30 a.m.. Good Lord, you’d think I had a real job or something! Of course, there was no time for me to get any writing done seeing as I had to leave for work at 8:30 because to make sure I wasn’t late and with the hellish traffic around here, you just NEVER KNOW.
Not only that, I narrowly avoided having to be in at the even-more-ungodly-hour of 9 a.m. tomorrow! But the Thing I was supposed to do got cancelled. Phew! I am still required to be there by 11:30, but I can almost handle that.
In any case, that is a long-winded explanation for why I’m up writing so “late.” Another thing, I’m just plain lonely and sad tonight. And words are my solace. Like they have been over and OVER these last 2.5 years.
Speaking of which, I love my editor. You know why? ‘Cause she loved my first five chapters! Now that’s my kind of editor! Twenty five more chapters and we’re there, baby!
Let’s see, what else can I talk about to avoid talking about my love life?
Well, the weather. A perennially interesting topic – don’t you think? It has not snowed, to my great chagrin. OK – it did snow on Sunday, but it was over and melted (mostly) before I woke up. At noon. Now what kind of wimpy-ass snowfall is THAT?
The sky won’t even do me the favor of a good rainstorm. It just sits there. Silent. Gray. Sullen.
Kind of like me. Wait! I’m not sullen!
I’m the perkiest little Celexified writer chick there is, but SOME people lately (names shall not be named) have termed me “cranky.” “Moody.”
CRANKY? Who, ME?
Can I just say I know A LOT OF PEOPLE WHO ARE WAY MORE EFFIN’ MOODY THAN ME???
But that aside. Granted, I can be moody. In a mercurial sort of way. My moods come and go like swirly little gusts of wind, but they don’t last. Beneath it all, I’m a drug-fortified rock. Mostly happy. Mostly content. Mostly optimistic and people-loving.
So gee whiz. My feelings are hurt, OK? I’m an artiste! Aren’t we allowed to be just a little bit moody?
And isn’t someone going to love us anyway?
Tonight I’m not so sure about that. Which is why, as always in times like these, I turn to you my dear readers. Because you love me, I know you do. Even when, ESPECIALLY when, I’m in a bad mood.
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