developing a habit

Writing every day. Seems simple, but to a professional procrastinator like myself, it amounts to a far more insidious task than in originally appears.

OK, here we go with excuse number one. I've also been getting these wild bursts of crazy energy in the evenings, which I've been using to propel my NaNoWriMo outline. It also means I've rarely been getting into bed before midnight; while that seems almost meek by my old standards, it really is an hour or so later than my usual over the past year. Add a little bit of freelance work on the side and the NaNoWriMo forums, and you've got the makings of a not terribly productive, or even prolific, writer. Oh, and wars to increase our value on facebook's Friends For Sale application receive far more attention than they should. I'm beginning to think that the best way for me to reach 50,000 words come November 30 is to turn off the internet as a whole. Luckily, on my laptop, that's just a flick of the switch away.

To add to the various things floating around in my head, my best office buddy has quit, and will be leaving on Halloween. I'm surprised she's lasted this long; lord knows a number of us have been asking how she manages to cope with her boss for a while now. She has this beautiful zen-like quality I admire tremendously, but it would appear even it has run out of steam. I can only wish her the best and insist on keeping in touch. This is one of those times when you actually say those words and mean them. She's planning on taking a good break from work, and she's aware I'm doing NaNoWriMo (in fact, she may be one of the maybe three people who might get to read my novel), so we know contact will be sparse at first. I am sincere in saying that I will not let her fade away into that "yeah, we used to be close coworkers" category: I think of her as a friend, and where she works, if she works, should have no bearing whatsoever on that fact. It is only as I wrote this last paragraph that I realize her last day will be All Hallows' Eve; I wonder if she realizes the marvelous symbolism behind it all. Note to self: discuss Celtic mythology with her. The only upside I can see is that it will free up most of my lunch breaks: if I bring my laptop to work, or even just a flash key, I can eat at my desk and type with my free hand! 50,000, here I come.

So what's my excuse this evening? Don't have one really, unless you consider my eldest dog (a seven year-old pug, or should I say simply Droz from my previous post) looked really lethargic this evening, not even bothering to fight with his sons for food. So that's been on my mind for the past few hours, although now it looks like he's had some sleep and feels a little better; he lapped up kibble from my hand without being asked twice. That's my boy. Dudley pulled the same kind of stunt a few months back; I'm thinking they may have picked something up the floor that wasn't entirely edible, much to the dismay of their digestive systems. It's certainly a trait that runs in the family. We'll see what tomorrow brings, I guess.

Man, it's past midnight again, and I have to wash my hair tomorrow; although it's nowhere near as long as it once was, it's still thick enough that it takes forever to dry, and by that time, I've lost all feeling in my fingers. Off to bed, where I will probably look at the drawing I purchased as part of the Art Montreal Tattoo convention and think it could be an incredible starting point for some funky pirate story. I gotta take a picture of it (oh shoot, I still haven't taken the pictures for the Trois choses blog, for the prompt that I put up. Nice going, there, champ.) and post it here. Then I'll have to write about it. But not tonight. My dreams beckon.

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