Oatmeal Brain
I am officially crazy.
Why? Because I’m trying to get five thousand words a day out of my head–two on the NaNoWriMo book and three on the Valentine book since the deadline’s been moved up. (I know you’re curious. Please, as you love me, don’t ask.) My brain has turned into that particular type of putty you only find in your cereal bowl after it’s had a long time to get good and soggy.
The DHM jokes that I’m like angular ball bearings–there’s a bit of chatter unless it’s preloaded, which means I function best with a certain amount of pressure. Ramping up to that preloading is an interesting psychological process for me; when it’s finished, I’ll take off like a rocket into the stories in my head. Then it will be pizza time–because that’s the only food that slides under the door of the space where I’m in. Because it’s flat.
Ha ha. That’s a DHM joke too. You get the idea that the man is pretty funny. Like I told the Sullen Teenager when he flinched (I had just made some remark about Robin Williams being ultra-hawt), “Chicks dig guys who make them laugh. Like, we really dig them.”
He didn’t get it. But the DHM does. It’s part of why I stopped dating bad boys and pretty boys and started dating geeks. As the Selkie says, geeks try harder.
Anyway, digression. There’s a certain amount of pressure that, unless I’m under it, I’m just not comfortable. I get the bends. When the situation changes and I suddenly have a load of work land in my lap, it becomes necessary to undergo this compression. Not comfortable, but necessary. And comforting, if not comfortable.
So I’m listening to Blue October’s Hate Me (off the Foiled album) over and over again. I heard it in the car on the way home from taking the Sullen Teenager to school, and had to REMEMBER THOSE LYRICS because of course, the radio didn’t tell me who it was. (Dammit.) For some reason the song is feeding my Muse like nobody’s business. Especially since both Dante and Dru (the YA heroine) are in a Very Angsty Place.
What about the rest of the album, you ask? I don’t know yet. The Teenager might like it. For now I just like the one song. Maybe I’ll branch out into the rest of it while I’m writing today.
Oatmeal brain. I just hope there’s enough lumps in there to feed the ravenous work.
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