I get a visual effect sometimes with caffeine. I think it happens when I hit some sort of critical mass in my bloodstream. I start seeing things clearer and brighter. That might just be because I was peering at the world with half-squinted eyes, bleary and groggy, before, and the caffeine stimulates my foggy brain to sit up straight and pay attention. But I had a very pronounced effect this morning.
I’m still off the Clonazepam. Trying to wean myself off one burgeoning chemical dependency at a time. Didn’t sleep well last night. Wanted to bash my alarm clock for having the temerity to wake me up when it went off. Refrained from committing violence upon an innocent electronic device and dragged myself out of bed. Stumbled in to work with the rain pouring down, an apt counterpoint to how I was feeling–gray, blurry, and cold–chugged a cup of java, and suddenly it seemed like a film had lifted from my eyes. Weird. But welcome.
I like coffee. I think I shall have a torrid love affair with it, then spurn it most callously when I realize the relationship has become abusive and dysfunctional, and then punctuate my years with brief but passionate reconciliations with it. Yes.
Writing stuff:
1000 words on novel2. Although some of that is the mythos I cut and pasted into dialogue. Is that cheating? Having the characters read the mythos to each other? Argh. Well, it’s better than trying to fit passages at the beginning of each chapter, I suppose.
Good lord. I got zero critiques on the story I have up at Critters yesterday, but this morning when I opened up my email, I had eight. Still trying to absorb the deluge of comments. Also, one Critter suggested I write novels, a suggestion I have received before (most notably from Norm, a favorite regular Critter of mine–I think we’d be great friends if he didn’t live across the country somewhere). But it’s most aggravating right now as I am feeling rather frightened by the magnitude of novel2. I guess that’s what NaNoWriMo is about, just getting the words on the page so you can get over the hurdle of writing a full novel-length work. Eep. Maybe more coffee . . .
