opaque stockings
Oct. 12th, 2005 10:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7I'm wearing a pair of opaque nylon stockings, and feeling somewhat librarianish. (Z said I looked like a librarian, and when I asked him to clarify that, he said "kinda schoolteacherish but younger and somewhat more sexy. Aren't librarians usually sexier than teachers?")
I'm at Z's office with him again. I'm here ostensibly to work on the story, but mostly just because I thought I'd waste less time if I were here than at home. Because today's Last Minute Freakout Day at his job, given that the paper goes to the printer in two batches at 1 and 3 pm, so everything is an absolute rush all morning and then everyone collapses dead. The Artistic Director is less than a week away from her scheduled cesarean section and is now totally insomniac, and despite just having banged her knee painfully on her desk and bursting quietly into tears while in conversation with an ad rep (said conversation is how I know that she can no longer sleep at night and dreads going to bed), is getting a truly fearsome amount of work done, two desks over from me. So I'm actually totally motivated, largely out of guilt. Also she's playing good music on her computer.
Just this minute she said, "Is anyone else crashing?" A graphic designer across the room said, "Yes, I can't save files. I thought it was just me." Z sighed, and stood up from the computer he was trying to fix and went down to the basement to fix the file server. From what he says, this is his life.
I have 1700 words. The story is supposed to be 1400-2000, so this is good, but I still have a few things to say, and I am absolutely terrible at cutting things. I'm wondering if I could pull out things to make a bulleted list, if that would be more effective, but I don't know. And I can't get in touch with the one guy I really want to talk to until tomorrow, so I can't write that. And I should find somebody with an old house I can interview about how they save energy. Hmm. I wish I actually knew people, in this city in which I've lived for over a year now. (Perhaps I ought to have left my house at some point during my residency thusfar?)
But there's a big poster of Rosie the Riveter on the wall just across from me, and she's rolling up her sleeve and says We Can Do It, so I guess I'm motivated. Yes!
I'm at Z's office with him again. I'm here ostensibly to work on the story, but mostly just because I thought I'd waste less time if I were here than at home. Because today's Last Minute Freakout Day at his job, given that the paper goes to the printer in two batches at 1 and 3 pm, so everything is an absolute rush all morning and then everyone collapses dead. The Artistic Director is less than a week away from her scheduled cesarean section and is now totally insomniac, and despite just having banged her knee painfully on her desk and bursting quietly into tears while in conversation with an ad rep (said conversation is how I know that she can no longer sleep at night and dreads going to bed), is getting a truly fearsome amount of work done, two desks over from me. So I'm actually totally motivated, largely out of guilt. Also she's playing good music on her computer.
Just this minute she said, "Is anyone else crashing?" A graphic designer across the room said, "Yes, I can't save files. I thought it was just me." Z sighed, and stood up from the computer he was trying to fix and went down to the basement to fix the file server. From what he says, this is his life.
I have 1700 words. The story is supposed to be 1400-2000, so this is good, but I still have a few things to say, and I am absolutely terrible at cutting things. I'm wondering if I could pull out things to make a bulleted list, if that would be more effective, but I don't know. And I can't get in touch with the one guy I really want to talk to until tomorrow, so I can't write that. And I should find somebody with an old house I can interview about how they save energy. Hmm. I wish I actually knew people, in this city in which I've lived for over a year now. (Perhaps I ought to have left my house at some point during my residency thusfar?)
But there's a big poster of Rosie the Riveter on the wall just across from me, and she's rolling up her sleeve and says We Can Do It, so I guess I'm motivated. Yes!
