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Blue Socks

You can either listen to or read today’s journal entry. The details on listening to it are below, and if you’d rather read it instead you can saunter on down the page. Here are the details on listening to the Real Audio file:

This is the sort of Real Audio file that you download entirely, and then it plays via your Real Audio player. If you know what you’re doing and don’t need any more help, then go ahead and download the Real Audio file now. (size: approximately 205 K) [link broken]

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You’re never going to believe what happened. Yesterday I walked down to the library to return an overdue video and when I got back I unlocked the front door, walked in, and there they were. All the Rotted Monsters standing in a semicircle around the computer desk, with the biggest and meanest one sitting in my desk chair typing away and cackling. I tried to stop them before they could upload yesterday’s journal entry, but I couldn’t, they were too fast for me. Today they’ve been banished to the basement along with the drecky old bags of used cat litter and other garbage.

No…I didn’t think you’d believe it.

I’d like to start by saying, “What a difference a day makes,” except I can’t remember which ad campaign it’s from, which is fine if it’s cereal or motor oil but what if it’s laxatives or condoms or something equally icky?

But the point is that this morning I woke up excited and inspired about writing a new journal entry for the first time in weeks. It took me two months of hoping and wishing the feelings I talked about yesterday would go away before I wrote about them, and one day for my attitude to change completely. I only wish I’d talked about it sooner. An amazing number of people wrote (thank you thank you thank you) to say I should keep a better eye on the Rotted Monsters and not to be a fool, but there were four specific points people made that made a very big difference in the way I think about the whole issue of being “unoriginal”.

there are hundreds of books in any given bookstore — no one’s giving up writing because of it

the first person who put a reed to a clay tablet and started to write didn’t give up when their neighbors tried it too

writing every day can do nothing but help your writing skills

if people thought my site was boring/unoriginal they wouldn’t spend the little free time they have visiting it

my coffee tastes like Play-Doh

(That was five points and the last one hasn’t got anything to do with writing at all, I was just enjoying listing things. It does taste like Play-Doh, though. I should know. I used to eat it all the time in daycare. And if I really am drinking coffee made from Play-Doh it could have everything to do with my mental well-being.)

I woke up this morning from a dream that I was a teenager again, and had been chosen from a large group of children for a trip to France to expand my horizons because I lived in some big US city and didn’t see trees or grass much. It didn’t look one bit like the France I remember from my short trip there as an actual teenager, it looked a lot more like I’d imagine Montana looks in early winter, but I was glad to be there and it was a fascinating place. I wanted to visit what looked like a small snow and ice covered mountain with a video arcade inside it, which sounds like I have Quite The Imagination until you realize that Todd and I watched a Nova video from the library this weekend all about roller coasters that had a whole segment on The Matterhorn in Disneyland. Anyway, when I found my way into the small mountain I found a video game based on all of the online journalists. I only wish I remembered more about it, because as I recall it was extremely fun to play. (Ha ha, very funny. No, it wasn’t a shoot-em-up game.)

From the silliness file:

(Over the past few days Sage and Todd have been discussing the concept of “romance” because Todd’s a hopeless romantic and Sage isn’t.)

Sage: See that? On my finger. That’s the finger I chew on while I’m working on my web site, and the scaly bit sort of opened up. It really hurts.
Todd: (after kissing Sage’s finger) Aww, poor thing. I hope it feels better.
Sage: Aha! Now that’s romantic, kissing your sweetie’s infected open sores.
Todd: Ooo. You scare me.