(no subject)

I had a fabulously exciting night, full of nightmares and other curious events. Some of this turned out to be seasonal change. We have the first of the Spring rains, outside, right now. I don't know if I brought them on with the acid-vein hours, but it certainly felt as if I did. No wonder certain pantheons are full of grump and misbehaviour of exercising their powers bears such consequences. "I can rule the universe and hurt, or I can sit on a beach and drink margaritas. Hmm, let me think."

What I did (since the beach and margaritas was out) was make sure I finished the editing of the novel and I did a really, really bad draft of my conclusion. I also have a list of everything that has to be somewhere else (including bedlinen in my washing machine) by 10 am on Saturday. I'm allowed to whinge all I like, just as long as that list diminishes. My reward is almost the full weekend off, so it's worth diminishing my list. It's going to be a not-good day no matter what I do, and it's the sort of pain that actually feels worse when one is in bed (hence the nightmares) so I'm going to do some entirely amazing finishing-of-projects.

It's not a long list, but the items are mostly quite substantial. It's already diminished from nineteen items to seventeen, although I'm tempted to make it up to eighteen, for I keep worrying about next week's work.

By the end of next week, I want clean and close-to-passable versions of totally everything I need for my doctorate. This may not happen, but it's my aim. I also have two pieces for BiblioBuffet, one article for elsewhere, sorting my CV (which I keep putting off, for it's the hardest thing on the list - I really do loathe CVs) and the other things for this week are really just everything-else stuff. In fact, more everything-else stuff will appear as I get this lot finished, for there is work hiding in the interstices of my life. The pain will disappear (it generally does) but the work won't. Just as well I enjoy work as much as I don't enjoy pain. (What I want to do today is play with Chapter Five of my dissertation, for there are things I don't like about it, but that has to wait until next week, for other things are more urgent.)

(no subject)

The rain means I can't teach world building tonight. That's the trouble with being a bus-catcher - on wet nights I have to teach using less vulnerable materials. The relationship of the writer with their inner editor (and other tools for improving manuscripts) is much easier, especially as it's what I've been doing all week. I don't need fancy equipment for it, nor do I need easily-sodden butchers' paper. I do, however, need my brain and the white board markers. I have the latter, but need to hunt for the former, right now.