I should be writing about something. I should be writing about #Eleven-Books Club, where Liz picked Nevada not knowing that I knew Imogen in real life because of Livejournal, & that Kerry knew her even way-er back. Except, I'm not supposed to focus on "shoulds" so much, especially when I'm supposed to be relaxing. So I'm just going to blah blah blah about whatever I want. If I want to talk about how Imogen video chatted with us & how she & I are going to go see 10 Cloverfield Lane together, I will, but only if I want to. There were folks who thought the ending of Nevada was unfulfilling, but I think that's the point, kind of like the last episode of Angel.
Work has been good. Has been great, actually. It's still really challenging & I'm often scrambling, but that's good, right? Since we hired a counterpart for me, it's been much more manageable. There's an almost confirmed rumor we'll be moving offices-- like, it's true but no one has told us yet-- & I'm trepidatious. Our current situation isn't ideal, but it isn't the worst, either: me, my twin Katharine, & the art director Christine share a bullpen office without any windows. We've used cork & bookshelves to make the space cozy, & it lets us chatter back & forth. We're already on an inconvenient floor, but we'll be on an even more annoying one, soon. Then again, I'll probably get a window! I'm not complaining, I just don't like anticipation or liminal spaces.
There's been a lot of other stuff going on: lately I've felt like my schedule is jam packed, day & night. Partly I've been trying to come out of my deep antisocial funk, & partly it's just a busy month for whatever reason. Either way, you know my memory is terrible about things like "what happened." Give me a hook & I can dredge up details from a book I read decades ago, but what did I do yesterday? That escapes me. Hence: I should be better at blogging. That's the point of this thing, right? Well, that & working out interior stuff, but frankly I feel like that's all I discuss lately & I'm a little bored of it. I hate talking about feelings.