For the first time ever in writing Cedar Falls, today I wrote a page and then discarded it entirely.  Closed microsoft word without saving.  Adios.  Fuck you, and, good-bye.

I don't know how to feel about it. 

I've been kinda toying with the idea of giving the hobby up, anyway, though I'm not actually sure I could do so, even if I wanted to.  Well.  Probably I could... I have been a vegetarian for over a year now.  So it turns out I do actually posess some will power and determination, contrary to the popularly and previously held belief that such a trait was, in fact, absent from my genetic make-up.

We shall see.  No decisions yet, just forming my own little exploratory committee.  Just puttin feelers out into my psyche and my soul, you know?  Like:  Is this something that I NEED to be devoting time & energy to?  It this an endeavor worthy of so much attention?  Is this a thing that truly makes me happy\fulfills me\ challenges me\ improves me as a person?

Just putting the questions out there and picking at them for now.

I will admit that I think about these characters ALOT.  Not an obsessive amount.  I know a thing or two about obsessive preoccupations with fictional characters, and we're not there this time, not yet.  But I do think about them a great deal, think about the story, think about the plot, the events, the eventuality.  And I LIKE doing this.  It is a past time that pleases me. 

Sadly it is a past time that I cannot really share with anyone, which feels lonesome, but what can you do?  There is no internet forum devoted to my characters, as my characters languish in cold obscurity!  They are hardly one degree separated from just plain nonexistant!  They are the best kept secret on the web, I think!  lol.  Hell, even those who know about them can't be bothered to get into them. heeheehee.  shrugs and oh wellz.

But.  What I cannot wrap my mind around is anything past this hobby stage.  The re-structuring it into a 'real book' thing, or the endless editing thing, or the approaching an agent or a publisher thing.  Yick.  I mean, as much as one dreams of somehow becoming a successful little writer of stories that people actually want to read, and moreover pay money to read (can you imagaine?!), as much as one imagines how nice it would be to make a living in that way, can one really imagine all the big hairy bullshit that goes along with it?

I sometimes wonder if there exists a career that isn't horribly marred by all that big hairy bullshit.  God knows I left the theatre because of it.  And I despise teaching because of it.  And I'm terrified of even approaching real writing because of it.  Maybe I have a fundamental problem with my bullshit tolerance filter.  Like Aaron, for instance, has an almost inhuman bullshit tolerator hardwired in his personality.  He can deal with all sorts of lame-ass-bullshit for any job, and for a job he actually likes?  Forget it; he would tolerate all but the most extreme instances of hairyass bullhonkey.

Me?  It gets under my skin.  Pollutes my spirit.  Weighs me down and depresses me and turns me resentful and cynnical.  You may not have noticed this about me... lol.  Somehow, I guess I have to learn to process the BS, process it and sift through it for the nuggets, and basically muddle through the rest of it.

Bah. Don't listen to me.  I'm just grumpy because I have to do chores at my mother's today.  AND chores at my apartment today.  I'm beginning to hate sundays.  I used to like them so much....

Oh wellz.  At least I had a fabulous time at the Cock-in-Hand party last evening!  I wish I could meet up with my bestie for milkshakes, but alas, there just aren't enough hours in the day. 

How's this for a weird and sad realization:  In talking last night, she was trying to help me sort through all my tangled emotions about my career and my plans for the future and she asked, well if you don't want to be a teacher, what DO you want to do?

And.  Well.  I answered the first and most fundamental truth that sprang from my heart:  A Mother.

Yeah.  And this after I'd just got done reiterating the refrain that I didn't think it was ever going to happen for me.

And I love Danielle, because she absorbs what I've said, takes it in with only a blink at the sudden and unreasonable 180, and says:  "Yeah.  Doesn't pay well, unfortunately..."

I heart her.  She subsequently helped me reconsider options I'd sort of forgotten about, options outside of teaching and theatre.  I might look into them.  We don't have the money now, but maybe, down the road just a little...  we'll see.

Now I just wish the fabulous sex I had last night and this morning was enough to make me happy thorughout all the icky chores I have to complete today.  Alas, i learned long ago that an afterglow isn't a cure-all for all of life's unpalatable realities!

It was really fucking awesome sex though. All my favorite things ;)

Oh goodness, I should write my own lyrics and sing it all Julie Andrews style some time... it'd be a hit!