The third of my placements is over. It was unexpectedly nice. No burns, no bites, no electrocution. I have a cut, granted, but I can handle that. It’s also nice to be clumsy when there’s someone to laugh it off or worry about you when you fall. (Placements make so much more sense with friends.)
I’m enjoying my Saturday, lazily. Writing in between reading and thinking. A scone draped in honey and a nectarine. Also, Crunchy Nut cereal just because I love the stuff.
I read old messages I’ve sent. I remembered old posts I’ve written. I realised mid-message that I was blaming my brain for something I wanted to say.
It seems that I often refer to my brain as a separate entity, as if the unpleasant things I do are imposed on me by an unknown force I can blame. The problem is that my brain is very much part of me. In that sense, my compulsions are very much part of me.
I will stop now and write. I need to get reorganised. The plot isn’t actually moving in the middle and the subplots are scattered throughout the document. I’m not sure what the characters are doing either, which is frustrating since I’m the one who wrote them into existence. All they want to do is sit together and talk. All. The. Time.
So, yes, stopping. Fingers crossed that I manage to put down five thousand salvageable words on paper today.