A paragraph a day keeps the editors away, or at least reminds me that I do have a journal that I desperately wish I was writing in. Well, not desperately -- if I was really desperate I'd make the time for it. As it is I code madly all day, and then go home to nurse sore wrists and spend not ever enough time with Jim, or occasionally to gaming or social dinnerish things. And the journal sits neglected.

I'm continuing to get lots of work done, though. I'm earning my keep. I'm proving myself as a programmer. That's nice. I just wish it left time for anything else.

Here Come the Warm Jets is pretty good. I don't like it as much as the other two Eno albums I've listened to (Before and After Science and Wrong Way Up), but it has some lovely moments. I haven't listened to the airports one yet, mostly due to having accidentally left it at home.

I'm close to the end of the second volume of the extremely long Chinese novel. I still really like it; it's relaxing in a way that most things I read aren't. I've also been rereading a lot of Norma Johnston, who wrote tons of YA books during the 70's, and does teen angst in a way very sympathetic to teenagers. These are probably good books for actual adolescent girls who feel misunderstood, even if they're a bit intense.

I haven't read any sf lately. No energy for it.