nano update & other stuff
I’ve managed at least NNWM wordcount on Project 1 for 7/8 days, putting my overall wordcount for the month around…29.5K, and done the first pass of revisions on Project 3.
Tomorrow I theoretically start Project 4, although in practice I might put the shoulder to the grindstone for a couple days with P1, and do some research for P4.
In the meantime, I have tried three times this week to go to the gym. The first two days I missed the bus, which was running unusually early. Today I hustled my ass down to the bus stop and the bus was, of course, TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES LATE. By the time I got to the gym, I was too cold and too entropic to actually exercise, and only had about 20 minutes to do so, too, so I didn’t bother.
I may have to start walking my bike to school with Indy in the morning and cycling from there to the gym. The bus is so unreliable and it’s very frustrating. And catching it, on a day that works out perfectly, is only…very slightly…faster than cycling would be. And of course most days do not work out perfectly. :p
Walking the bike, though, introduces a host of other problems, none of which I am asking for solutions for, namely that Indy will want HIS bike, or to try to ride mine, or…I’m sure there are many other variations I’m not insightful enough to think of. but I know that if I just bring him and come back home to get the bike I’ll never actually get the bike and go to the gym, I’ll just come in and get started on work/showering/breakfast/etc. *sigh*
Yesterday I went to a local writer’s group of very nice people. We did a free write. Here’s my bit from it (the prompt was ‘the way she looked’):
The way she looked said she’d seen it all before, and hadn’t been impressed the first time. That was the price of immortality without childish wonder to balance it: living forever became unbearable, if all one wanted to see in it was the tedium of repeated notes. He preferred being astonished time and again at the variety of ways those notes could be played, but she stood to the side, cool and aloof in a way that could be mistaken for beauty. He could hardly be mistaken for beautiful himself–there were too many lines and creases in his face, too much age carried in sloped shoulders and watery eyes…but perhaps that was why she was jaded, and he was not. He had been old already when the curse hit him, and no one cared to impress him. She had been young, and for three hundred years, eager fools had been trying to bring a smile to her face with old tricks.
They’d have been better off trying with him. He laughed every time.
And last of all, I’ve come down with a cold, so I’m a grumpy-butt. Oh, but the elections in America have heartened me, so that’s something. :)