![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
schmericaI have seen more news programs in the last day and a half than in all the rest of the last few months combined -- and thus heard more about the war, since I was actively avoiding it at school.
It's quite confusing. And sort of depressing.
So,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dammitcarl, are you one of the enemies now?
I only managed like one of my goals for today; I'll have to try for the library and laundry again tomorrow. And writing would be easier if I actually went and got my notebooks and school stuff out of the carBut I did get up to LaneCo! Which, um. Hasn't been LaneCo since the last millennium. (It's so difficult remember that sort of things; my grandparents have lived in the same house since before I was born. Many of my blurry pre-elementary memories are at this house, since we were here constantly then -- but then I've only been a dozen, dozen and a half times in the last thirteen years.)
I think I shall go scourge for dinner and reread Connie Willis"s Impossible Things. I was reading one of her stories yesterday, actually, and I think she might be one of those writers (along with Neil Gaiman, other people I can't remember at the moment) whose style -- like at the sentence or paragraph level, not the story, really -- has influenced me a great deal. There's this wonderful page or two out of Spice Pogrom that I'll type up eventually that I can see and be like, "Ah. Maybe that's what my subconscious is trying to do."
Man, I'm tired. This is what I get for staying up and trying to talk to people for a few minutes. As nice as it was to say hi toseperis, I don't think I'll try that again.
It's quite confusing. And sort of depressing.
So,
dammitcarl, are you one of the enemies now?I only managed like one of my goals for today; I'll have to try for the library and laundry again tomorrow. And writing would be easier if I actually went and got my notebooks and school stuff out of the carBut I did get up to LaneCo! Which, um. Hasn't been LaneCo since the last millennium. (It's so difficult remember that sort of things; my grandparents have lived in the same house since before I was born. Many of my blurry pre-elementary memories are at this house, since we were here constantly then -- but then I've only been a dozen, dozen and a half times in the last thirteen years.)
I think I shall go scourge for dinner and reread Connie Willis"s Impossible Things. I was reading one of her stories yesterday, actually, and I think she might be one of those writers (along with Neil Gaiman, other people I can't remember at the moment) whose style -- like at the sentence or paragraph level, not the story, really -- has influenced me a great deal. There's this wonderful page or two out of Spice Pogrom that I'll type up eventually that I can see and be like, "Ah. Maybe that's what my subconscious is trying to do."
Man, I'm tired. This is what I get for staying up and trying to talk to people for a few minutes. As nice as it was to say hi to
seperis, I don't think I'll try that again.