January 20, 2005

Let them eat cake...

A few observations about inauguration day: you can throw a party for a hell of a lot less than $30 million, and use the rest to feed, house, and give health care to a lot of people who need it. Or raise the pay for soldiers who are long overdue to come home. If this is life during wartime, how much would a party cost during a peaceful interval? The Logic Lady(tm) now understands that if you need that much money to throw a party, obviously the biggest trade deficit in history looks reasonable by comparison.

(off of soapbox and back inside, where it's warm)

There's nothing like a negative wind-chill factor to freeze my brain. The weather is "blisteringly cold," according to the local weatherman. Frightening to realize that this is either the largest or second-largest TV market in the U.S., and no station can find a weather person who has any control over his/her use of the English language. It's one thing to fail to predict weather accurately; it's another thing entirely to use oxymorons with a smile.

As the temperature plummeted, so did my ability to think. What I have done best these past few days is sleep, and sleep some more, not completed unaided by the wide world of Western pharmaceuticals. Bunny has been properly fed and medicated, but I can't say the same for me.

Today, when I woke up, I was so groggy that I took my nighttime pills instead of my pick-me-up-and-focus morning complement. Result? I didn't figure out my error until 8:30 tonight, and so I still haven't gotten any work done. Note to self: try not to commit to more hours than you can actually manage. Other note to self: you'll feel better when the work is done and you can bill for it.

Yet, 20+ years out, I still have the collegiate mentality of wait-until-near-deadline to start any project that is for someone else's eyes. As a child and teenager, I was more concerned with doing schoolwork in advance of the deadline, and I think I used up all my do-it-early points on that little exercise.

Then, too, I've been pondering what one of my oldest friends, more overeducated than I (B.A., M.B.A, J.D. vs. B.A., one complete M.A., and one partial M.F.A.) said: "I have a great future behind me." I think that sums it up for me. Too old to be "precocious" or "promising," where is the adjective to describe me if I do successfully publish any of my fiction?

I don't know; my brain has returned to deep freeze status, and this is where words and I part company.


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