fucking nanowrimo. right... or, write, I should say. I balk, I hesitate, and then I remember the story about the single mom with two jobs and three kids that got published. she said something funny, like, that they ate a lot of cheerios.

last year I wrote about 20,000 words, and was on track to finish just fine, and it just fizzled out. I fizzled out. but some funny stuff came true, like tom brosseau saying one night in new york, come tour with me for a few days and take pictures. I wonder if we would have wound up in a hotel room with the long winters. heh. anyways, I have two weeks to figure it out. I'm going to table it for now, challenges duly noted (kristin).

I am very tired, but it's building character, all this hard work. I'm bringing the trash out at work tonight, and the flaming lips are on inside, and as I sort out the recycling, it drifts out the window, echoing:

suddenly... everything has changed...

and it was perfect, and I knew it was coming, and then it was there, and I just took it in. I was told recently by a wise woman that when I'm not quite sure where I'm headed, that I have to look at what's going on currently and the decisions that I'm making, and decide if that's getting me towards my goals. extra job = paying off bills = yes. paying off bills = more school = yes. so coffee shop questionnaire settles. and it flares back up, and I think about it again, and then I remember that we figured that part out already.

we. thank goodness I'm not alone.

and and and... and so it echoed out there into the alley, and my hands are cut up and my feet hurt and between tips and hourly I made... close to $100 in an eight hour shift. not too bad. at this rate, I'll be out of debt and well towards my master's in about... five years.

right.

write.

that's about all I can do at the moment. love ya.

vvb.