Have You Any Dreams You'd Like to Sell?

So counting down, again. If I had a penny for everything I've counted down to. Right now, with only a bit over a week until NaNoWriMo begins again, I think it's totally fine for me to be looking forward to it, stocking the fridge with food I eat when stressed and exhausted, and yes, panicking about lack of plot. Unfortunately, I've been watching far too many Joss Whedon TV shows to feel confident in the originality of my ideas. Erp. Oh well, as usual, jump in and see. There may well be vampires involved. Because I loved them before Stephanie Meyer brought them into the spotlight.

Oh dear, I just looked at the calendar, guess what's exactly two months away today. Oh dear. And the crisis begins... now? More like continues. It's not like I haven't been wondering what I'm doing with my life for the past, oh, let's just say several years. And really, I've never felt more secure in the knowledge that it'll all work out. And it's not like I'm the first of my friends to cross this threshold, in fact, close to the last. So why does this feeling of dread fall on me like so many bricks?

On the other hand, that means I only have about 2 months until my sunny warm Christmas. There's something strangely appealing about wearing shorts (shut up, Loud, I mean comfortably and not for the purpose of jumping into snowbanks) around Christmastime.

I got off the ground today!!!! Even if I was partially lifted. Progress!

Keep Dreaming
Daydream Believer

London Calling

So I've been counting wrong all this time. I should've started at 16, not 15, which puts me at 12 tomorrow, rather than 11. But one may be cut off the end from my previous figuring. Which would put me in exactly the right place. Happy thoughts.

I started working out again today, even though I'm still sore from that yoga thing on Thursday. Ow. I'm bored. Although somehow this doesn't stop me from wanting to shirk my responsibilities. Even when I hardly have anything to do, doing the things I have to do sucks.

It's worst when I'm at home alone. I'm bored and want to go home. It always passes, but while it grips me, it's got me. I don't want to do anything but go to sleep and hope it's over when I wake up. I'm trying to keep myself busy, but I can't shake this feeling of stagnating, the holding pattern, waiting for the real thing. I really need to stop doing that to myself. Waiting. I'm not going to wait anymore, I'm going to do something. Maybe take a ferry ride to start. In three weeks, I'll be writing a book. I better have some material.

Dream On
Daydream Believer

Touchdown 0094

Well, I have space. At least at home. And I do feel at home here, even if everything's different, even if everything's wrong. Even if my room's too big, my bed's too big, the streets are too small, the clothes in the shops are too small, and I had to work way too hard to find a bottle of salad dressing. I'm happy. I'm adjusting. There's a lot to adjust to, the greatest of which is that he's not here. 3 down, 12 to go. I'm gonna be okay. We're gonna be okay. I just don't know what I'll do if this trial proves to be too much.
I don't know why those guys put me in such a foul mood. Maybe it's because I know that if I lose him, that's all I'll have left. It's a depressing thought. That and I suppose my fight or flight instincts are changing gears a bit. Here, I'm a fighter. I have to be. I have to fight for everything. I have to fight my way into an already established group. I have to fight for myself, my work, my sanity. Yes to cream teas. Sometimes it's hard to figure out what's important. Sometimes it's crystal clear. It's easier to fight for what you believe in when you know what you believe in. I've been to defensive, too tired, too hungry. I'm homesick. With varying degrees of literalism. Maybe I will become one of those beauties, but I'd probably have to give up chips to do it.
I love the post-bar food, and the fact that I can go for a night out for about half what I used to pay. I love the view from the end of my street. I love that my accent is sexy here. That which is rare is prized. I love that picture.
I wish I'd brought more posters, my walls feel oppressively beige. There have been lots of things I've wanted to say, and I can't remember most of them.

I'm here, I better get used to it.

Dreaming of home (a little).
Daydream Believer