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Three shiny apples in the big blue bowl by the window at sunset.

Green and pink and blue and pink and green

I have been watching way too much Intervention, and at the end of every episode I always think I'm an alcoholic too (even when the episode is about heroin addiction or what have you.) This is sort of like when authors research different mental illnesses for their characters and then self-diagnose bi-polar or sociopathic behavior. Except I'm just sitting on my ass watching tv. Not working on my book.

By the way, I'll save you some time: ALL writers are sociopaths. No need to read a book to figure that business out.

Still kind of doing some freelance work over here, not getting any novel writing done. I'm just thinking some. Doing yoga. Taking care of the cats. Going for walks. I feel pretty strong and solid though. One year ago tomorrow I sprained my ankle, thus convening the worst year of my life, and that includes freshman year of college. (Holy moly, was that a rough year. Some day I'll write about it. Or not.) I have been writing in my journal pretty furiously about it all, trying to channel good thoughts and personal power, releasing the past, looking forward to the future, and all that hippie dippie shit I came to Los Angeles to contemplate/do/enact/etc. I am feeling humbled and I am feeling empowered and I am ready to take on the challenges of the next year.

So this is not me saying, "Get the fuck out of my way."

This is me saying, "Could you move over ever so slightly as I pass by you?"

But I am going to be moving. Onward, upward, and on and on.

(11/11/08)