(no subject)
Apr. 14th, 2005 07:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rmToday's been strange and long, and I think ultimately positive. There's something for being sick, as it completely limits my ability to freak out about things. Also, I actually did my taxes and it was a little less grim than I thought and this small joy cascaded through my entire day.
I suspect my cold is retreating but the allergies are coming on. This is unattractive, both aesthetically, and in a deeper state of being way. I also cannot take allergy medication, and so the arrival of allergies in my life in the last five years has sucked pretty hard.
I wrote a follow up to a story I wrote yesterday, but am choosing to do nothing with it, as it has utterly succumbed to my eternal problem with fiction, which is I can make two characters talk FOREVER about NOTHING. That's okay though. They did what I wanted them to yesterday, and I find a comfort in that. Even if I did use a word twice in a way that just isn't clever.
I'm quite tired, but must now bring fabric swatches to client.
Oh man... I went to this upholstery fabric store today, and the woman who lives in my head who would like to make a living sticking people with pins had about eight billion orgasms. All this cream and burgundy silk brocade -- I just wanted to spin all the fabric out and roll around in it for a while. I think I love design so much because it will never, ever be what I do, but I come at it with just enough knowledge to really enjoy and revere it while also appreciating the mechanics. Guh guh guh.
I suspect my cold is retreating but the allergies are coming on. This is unattractive, both aesthetically, and in a deeper state of being way. I also cannot take allergy medication, and so the arrival of allergies in my life in the last five years has sucked pretty hard.
I wrote a follow up to a story I wrote yesterday, but am choosing to do nothing with it, as it has utterly succumbed to my eternal problem with fiction, which is I can make two characters talk FOREVER about NOTHING. That's okay though. They did what I wanted them to yesterday, and I find a comfort in that. Even if I did use a word twice in a way that just isn't clever.
I'm quite tired, but must now bring fabric swatches to client.
Oh man... I went to this upholstery fabric store today, and the woman who lives in my head who would like to make a living sticking people with pins had about eight billion orgasms. All this cream and burgundy silk brocade -- I just wanted to spin all the fabric out and roll around in it for a while. I think I love design so much because it will never, ever be what I do, but I come at it with just enough knowledge to really enjoy and revere it while also appreciating the mechanics. Guh guh guh.
