I had a dream this morning that I was at a very small convention sort of like the Writer’s Weekend, except there were some comic book people there too, like Terry Moore, and I was supposed to do a panel on being /un/published and what the whole state of the industry looked like from that side, and there was some chick there who was trying to pitch a B&W comic to Terry, and he was being polite but was bored, and Anna Genoese was there, as well as PNH, and…
bah.
Yesterday was just a complete wash. Let’s move on.
grr.
Wretched mood. Wretched work. Tired, grumpy, frustrated, bored. Know I should bike, walk, yoga, *something*, but right now I feel emotionally scarred and crabby and I both want to just get this damned stuff done and to never look at it again. I will walk, or bike, or something, in another hour, by which time if my coworkers have any sense they will have gone home/quit working. :P
“…and bring me the horizon.”
We went to see Pirates of the Carribean last night, and it just totally rocked. Johnny Depp was hysterical. Orlando Bloom was adorable. Geoffrey Rusch chewed the scenery. The chick, whose name I have forgotten — Kiera something — kicked ass. Every single scene in the ride was re-created in the film, which delighted me. I will go see it again, even at full price. I *entirely* enjoyed the film. I also went on a 13 mile bike ride last night. Yay! I broke 500 miles! Yay! miles to Mordor:…
noooo berries
Nooooooo berry picking tonight. Instead I’m getting myself together to go biking, which I’m not very enthusiastic about at the moment, but I know I’ll feel better later if I go now. Stupid endorphins. :)