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As usual, it’s taking me a while to adjust to being "on break". To some degree, this may well be because while I’m excited at the prospect of having time to get actual work done, I know damn well that the most I’ll probably do is chase a tiny man around and do a lot of laundry. Self-fulfilling prophecy? Maybe. I’ll definitely try to keep to my pattern of last week, which involved me getting up before 6:00 A.M. and working on stuff until Steve was ready to leave…on good days, I did anywhere between 400 and 1,000 words per session, which allowed me to (for example) finish an entire new section of "Niemand"; I’d also like to step up my exercise program, which—while it hasn’t been any less strenuous—definitely did become a bit more sporadic as we reached the end of the week. But there’s just so much more I want to get stuck into, from novel outlines to new scripts, and I can’t help resenting the way Cal’s, um, entire current processs of existence apparently can’t help cutting into that process. Crappy human life-cycle! Somebody really should do something.;)
Oh yeah, and it didn’t help that I had a big bag of stress fall on me unexpectedly from above on Thursday (my new Hell-day), when I stupidly lent one of the other teachers my DVD player, and he then lent it out to somebody else without telling me—a person whose name and room-number, it later ensued, no one could even remember. I came back once, to find it gone; came back again, to find it still not back yet; checked the room Rick thought it "might" have gone to, only to find it occupied by nothing but A) a student saluting Mecca ands B) a broken TV monitor lying abandoned, disconsolate, on the ground. For a whole night, I therefore faced the possibility of both not being able to turn up with the right equipment for Visual Presentations the Thursday after next, but also having to buy another DVD player and try and charge it to the school, for all the good that’d do me. Luckily, by lunchtime on Friday, it had mysteriously returned. And this explains why I will never, never do that again, under any circumstances…not ‘till they fix the equipment situation, at any rate. Ha ha ha ha ha.
Other than that? Well, I finished Lincoln Childs and Douglas Preston’s new thriller, Dance of Death, in which their mutual obsession with made-to-be-played-by-Vincent-D’Onofrio Agent Prendergast reaches brave new heights of freak-freak. Today, Steve and I took Cal out to the Eaton’s Centre Indigo during what turned out to be a rather amazing freezing rain-storm; we kept to the PATH system for most of it, but it was a close thing. We used a discount coupon and his Christmas gift-card to take a bite out of our expenses, and ended up with nice new copies of R. Scott Baker’s The Thousand-Fold Thought, Elizabeth Hand’s Mortal Love and Lisa Tuttle’s The Mysteries. On our return, I worked out, while Cal made Steve read him twenty books in quick succession. Then we watched Down With Love, a film whose highly 1960s-artificial ass is truly, truly silly. Not a bad day.
Now, I need to switch over to my "real" writing, so I’ll bid you adieu. Still in the roster of things to talk about later: Jonathan Strange… and 13th Gen, which![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
agincourtgirl lent me her copy of—an oddly sad book, particularly as I and everybody else I know approach our forties. But that’ll have to wait: I'm tired. 'Night.
Oh yeah, and it didn’t help that I had a big bag of stress fall on me unexpectedly from above on Thursday (my new Hell-day), when I stupidly lent one of the other teachers my DVD player, and he then lent it out to somebody else without telling me—a person whose name and room-number, it later ensued, no one could even remember. I came back once, to find it gone; came back again, to find it still not back yet; checked the room Rick thought it "might" have gone to, only to find it occupied by nothing but A) a student saluting Mecca ands B) a broken TV monitor lying abandoned, disconsolate, on the ground. For a whole night, I therefore faced the possibility of both not being able to turn up with the right equipment for Visual Presentations the Thursday after next, but also having to buy another DVD player and try and charge it to the school, for all the good that’d do me. Luckily, by lunchtime on Friday, it had mysteriously returned. And this explains why I will never, never do that again, under any circumstances…not ‘till they fix the equipment situation, at any rate. Ha ha ha ha ha.
Other than that? Well, I finished Lincoln Childs and Douglas Preston’s new thriller, Dance of Death, in which their mutual obsession with made-to-be-played-by-Vincent-D’Onofrio Agent Prendergast reaches brave new heights of freak-freak. Today, Steve and I took Cal out to the Eaton’s Centre Indigo during what turned out to be a rather amazing freezing rain-storm; we kept to the PATH system for most of it, but it was a close thing. We used a discount coupon and his Christmas gift-card to take a bite out of our expenses, and ended up with nice new copies of R. Scott Baker’s The Thousand-Fold Thought, Elizabeth Hand’s Mortal Love and Lisa Tuttle’s The Mysteries. On our return, I worked out, while Cal made Steve read him twenty books in quick succession. Then we watched Down With Love, a film whose highly 1960s-artificial ass is truly, truly silly. Not a bad day.
Now, I need to switch over to my "real" writing, so I’ll bid you adieu. Still in the roster of things to talk about later: Jonathan Strange… and 13th Gen, which
agincourtgirl lent me her copy of—an oddly sad book, particularly as I and everybody else I know approach our forties. But that’ll have to wait: I'm tired. 'Night.
