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lagilmanIt is cold, bright, and utterly snowless. The plan is - after a breakfast of coffee and toasted cornbread, which I am gleefully consuming Right Now - to settle on the sofa and write and read and possibly nap until the Grammys come on, first to watch Bruce, second to see if I can spot a friend in the audience (hey, I've seen friends at the Emmys, so why not?) and then to continue watching as boredom levels allow.
There are not only three books working in my brain right now, but two short stories and an essay, as well. If I start to bleed from my eyes and ears, it will be no less than I deserve.
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In the pre-dawn hours, I dreamed of being in an apartment not-my-own-but-familiar, watching a giant preying mantis and tiny zebras chase each other (playfully) around, with bonus! kittens, while someone showed me video of a friend on a gurney, high as a kite post-treatment (for what I don't know), and giggling madly while waving at the camera and telling the person filming not to set off the smoke alarm. The dream ended with me looking up and noting an exposed light fixture. Then I woke up
WTF, brain?
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Last night, I was trying to describe to someone (a non-writer) how it feels to see another (peer-level) writer succeed:
"You're happy for them, of course, especially if you think they totally deserve it, but you're also a little grumpy and - a little voice inside your head whinges "why not me?" And then you feel bad about thinking that, and you feel bad for feeling bad about what's a perfectly naturally feeling, being proud of your own work, and then you wonder if maybe you aren't really happy for them but you are, of course, it's just that there's also this feeling that maybe there's not enough room for all of you and what if you're the one there's no room for?"
And then I stopped, looked at the other person, and said "basically, it's reasonably healthy sibling rivalry, with a dose of job-related over-introspection thrown in."
It's not accurate, not entirely, but it comes close enough. And they seemed to get it.
There are not only three books working in my brain right now, but two short stories and an essay, as well. If I start to bleed from my eyes and ears, it will be no less than I deserve.
----------------
In the pre-dawn hours, I dreamed of being in an apartment not-my-own-but-familiar, watching a giant preying mantis and tiny zebras chase each other (playfully) around, with bonus! kittens, while someone showed me video of a friend on a gurney, high as a kite post-treatment (for what I don't know), and giggling madly while waving at the camera and telling the person filming not to set off the smoke alarm. The dream ended with me looking up and noting an exposed light fixture. Then I woke up
WTF, brain?
----------------------
Last night, I was trying to describe to someone (a non-writer) how it feels to see another (peer-level) writer succeed:
"You're happy for them, of course, especially if you think they totally deserve it, but you're also a little grumpy and - a little voice inside your head whinges "why not me?" And then you feel bad about thinking that, and you feel bad for feeling bad about what's a perfectly naturally feeling, being proud of your own work, and then you wonder if maybe you aren't really happy for them but you are, of course, it's just that there's also this feeling that maybe there's not enough room for all of you and what if you're the one there's no room for?"
And then I stopped, looked at the other person, and said "basically, it's reasonably healthy sibling rivalry, with a dose of job-related over-introspection thrown in."
It's not accurate, not entirely, but it comes close enough. And they seemed to get it.
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no subject
Date: 2012-02-12 02:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-12 02:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-12 04:32 pm (UTC)It comes darn close. No wait, it's accurate. Really accurate. :-)
no subject
Date: 2012-02-12 06:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-12 06:45 pm (UTC)