wildcat

Alternately between homework and season two of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. So far, Buffy's winning. But things aren't too bad, mellow, collapsed and quiet. I need to focus my mind on tasks and achieve zen-like concentration on a single task at hand. I wish it wasn't so easy to get distracted by multi-tasking. Really. Maybe I should try ritalin.

Upside, I feel like I'm starting to make a dent in my collection of unread books. About halfway through Life of Pi, by Yann Martel. The slow pacing of the ocean sequence isn't nearly as painful as it was the first time, which tends to make me suspect that I wasn't mature enough or something when I read it the first time. Ugh. Realizing your own personal growth is irritating. I want to have always been perfect. But change is good or something.

I didn't go anywhere last night for wild parties because I didn't have any ideas for a costume beyond - say - my own lack of self-respect (go as trashy as possible). And because of the homework, which piles on up. And sometimes I just don't feel like going out into the world. I wish I could not go out into the world and sit at home and meditate or read weird short stories, but not write now. At least one of the option is to write weird short stories. I remember remarking that Joy was going to be one of those masters of the short story form, but I suspect I'm just going to end up toiling away at them and maybe having a small following of readers who shrink away from the light. You know, I'll be an interesting writer and people won't say it's terrible but people will comment that those stories are kind of weird - you know, in that tone of voice. Weird.

I'm sorry, I seem to have swayed into Wuthering Heights. I'm trapped on the moors! Heathcliff? Oh, Heathcliff - are you there?

(and why am I always Catherine?)