i don't know why i feel this way
Sep. 2nd, 2005 09:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7I don't quite know why I chose that phrase-- it's not very true. I mean, I don't want to go to work, and that's just it. Work is inoffensive, work is at times satisfying, work is relatively lucrative (I've been making over six hundred dollars a week for the past two months now, which is more than I've any right to expect. I cannot legitimately complain about that), work is minimally stressful (frustrating at times, but not along the lines of CEO-type stress), work is work. And I don't want to go. Why? Because I'd rather be at home. Why? What will I do there?
Well, what did I do for the past two days?
Not a whole lot.
Never mind that I'm just beginning to get into a mood where I could be productive. Whether I really am is dubious. If I didn't have to work today, would I feel like great things are just around the corner of my possibility and I will be utterly stricken unproductive by being forced to go to work, and if I don't write Now I will Never Write Again?
I don't know. I think it's just the Muses being twats, as usual.
That said, it's a gorgeous day and I want to spend it on the couch on the sunporch with a cup of iced tea and the iPod on the computer speakers and Chapter Five of the Vikings Novel. (Actually bit-lets of the Barbarians Novel have been assailing me as I lay near sleep, these last couple unproductive weeks. I really really want to write that one. But I think my instinct in this case is correct: Finish the Vikings one's edits, make it a reasonable book, shop it around, and then, only then, write the Barbarians novel. I don't think Vikings will ever actually be published; I just don't think it's got anything really unique and good going for it. I don't think I'm capable of making it into anything great. But I am capable of Finishing it and shopping it around, and perhaps someday it will have its day. In the meantime, it will serve as a very important and discipline-building warmup for the I Care Too Much fiasco that is the Barbarians Novel, and thus will always have its own little special place in my heart. And also, it will be thoroughly readable and with any luck will get editors to say "Not right for me, but send me your next one maybe." Something like that. So there's your insight for the moment into the fantasy that is my thoroughly un-reality-connected brain.)
Oddly enough I feel like I haven't been on Livejournal in a while. And yet, I posted like eight entries yesterday, none of them very interesting.
I think it's because I dreamed a lot last night. I slept in Z's bed, which is supremely comfortable. I really love sleeping not-alone in any case, and his bed is just so comfortable that i always sleep well there, and i dream. This morning's dream, I don't remember as I never remember them, but it was very involved, had a sense of urgency-- some sort of disaster or emergency situation, but not apocalyptic disaster or anything like that; perhaps an involved conspiracy plot adventure? I was thoroughly caught up in it, and so when Z awoke and got out of bed, I felt I had to do likewise, but I have never quite emerged from the detached sense of being involved in that dream. I feel like I've been away, and that I'm not really back yet, and don't feel the need to be.
Which is a perfect state of mind in which to be in order to get a lot of writing done-- or in which to waste a hell of a lot of time. I spent nearly an hour reading![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
docbrite's journal this morning-- she is an author, a friend of Neil Gaiman, and an emergency evacuee of New Orleans, and I was reading her thoughts on restaurants in Chicago like my life depended on knowing what she thought. So while I am thoroughly convinced that if only I had today off, I could get Chapter 5 and possibly Chapter 6 revised (might I mention, I posted chapter 4 almost a month ago and haven't finished a paragraph since, which is a ridiculously long drought for me), or possibly get important groundwork laid for yet another novel I'm considering in the future,, I can also certainly console myself with the thought that I will probably make $120 today, and if I were at home it is highly likely I would waste at least four hours reading or watching something that would contribute very little to my intellectual improvement.
On that note, I should go and put my shoes on and go to work.
(A niggling thought strikes me, that if Z's making $100 more a week, maybe I can afford to cut my hours and only work 4 days a week. But only if they're 4 8-hour days, and I can't count on that. I don't have enough seniority. Note to self: Stop thinking about it.)
Well, what did I do for the past two days?
Not a whole lot.
Never mind that I'm just beginning to get into a mood where I could be productive. Whether I really am is dubious. If I didn't have to work today, would I feel like great things are just around the corner of my possibility and I will be utterly stricken unproductive by being forced to go to work, and if I don't write Now I will Never Write Again?
I don't know. I think it's just the Muses being twats, as usual.
That said, it's a gorgeous day and I want to spend it on the couch on the sunporch with a cup of iced tea and the iPod on the computer speakers and Chapter Five of the Vikings Novel. (Actually bit-lets of the Barbarians Novel have been assailing me as I lay near sleep, these last couple unproductive weeks. I really really want to write that one. But I think my instinct in this case is correct: Finish the Vikings one's edits, make it a reasonable book, shop it around, and then, only then, write the Barbarians novel. I don't think Vikings will ever actually be published; I just don't think it's got anything really unique and good going for it. I don't think I'm capable of making it into anything great. But I am capable of Finishing it and shopping it around, and perhaps someday it will have its day. In the meantime, it will serve as a very important and discipline-building warmup for the I Care Too Much fiasco that is the Barbarians Novel, and thus will always have its own little special place in my heart. And also, it will be thoroughly readable and with any luck will get editors to say "Not right for me, but send me your next one maybe." Something like that. So there's your insight for the moment into the fantasy that is my thoroughly un-reality-connected brain.)
Oddly enough I feel like I haven't been on Livejournal in a while. And yet, I posted like eight entries yesterday, none of them very interesting.
I think it's because I dreamed a lot last night. I slept in Z's bed, which is supremely comfortable. I really love sleeping not-alone in any case, and his bed is just so comfortable that i always sleep well there, and i dream. This morning's dream, I don't remember as I never remember them, but it was very involved, had a sense of urgency-- some sort of disaster or emergency situation, but not apocalyptic disaster or anything like that; perhaps an involved conspiracy plot adventure? I was thoroughly caught up in it, and so when Z awoke and got out of bed, I felt I had to do likewise, but I have never quite emerged from the detached sense of being involved in that dream. I feel like I've been away, and that I'm not really back yet, and don't feel the need to be.
Which is a perfect state of mind in which to be in order to get a lot of writing done-- or in which to waste a hell of a lot of time. I spent nearly an hour reading
docbrite's journal this morning-- she is an author, a friend of Neil Gaiman, and an emergency evacuee of New Orleans, and I was reading her thoughts on restaurants in Chicago like my life depended on knowing what she thought. So while I am thoroughly convinced that if only I had today off, I could get Chapter 5 and possibly Chapter 6 revised (might I mention, I posted chapter 4 almost a month ago and haven't finished a paragraph since, which is a ridiculously long drought for me), or possibly get important groundwork laid for yet another novel I'm considering in the future,, I can also certainly console myself with the thought that I will probably make $120 today, and if I were at home it is highly likely I would waste at least four hours reading or watching something that would contribute very little to my intellectual improvement. On that note, I should go and put my shoes on and go to work.
(A niggling thought strikes me, that if Z's making $100 more a week, maybe I can afford to cut my hours and only work 4 days a week. But only if they're 4 8-hour days, and I can't count on that. I don't have enough seniority. Note to self: Stop thinking about it.)
