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July 30, 1999
a year ago
two years ago

Pouring Rain

Of course, not having gotten to sleep until 2 a.m., I didn't get up until late today. John got up at the ungodly hour of 6 a.m. and went zooming out to get some estimates for fixing the dent in Borax, I think. I got up when I darned well wanted to, made myself a little breakfast and took my Passat into work.

Lunch was with Cary, Jenny and John and wasn't until after 1 p.m. 'cause John was in a meeting until late, and we went to the Mexican place that Peter had pointed out and everyone had good food and a Mexican Coke, which was made in Mexico and packed in the re-usable Coke bottles. They were really nice, thick glass that was well worn from the washings they'd been through. I thought they'd be perfect for root beer, so I asked the waitress if they recycled the bottles or threw them away? She said that they sometimes shipped some of the bottles back to Mexico to be reused, but there were always some that they just recycled, so I was welcome to any bottles I wanted! So we got ten of them and that was perfect for a gallon of root beer.

Just before 4 p.m. the skies opened up and it just poured. Sheets and sheets of water just fell from the sky and lightning struck right over the building and the clap of thunder was nearly instantaneous. It was just amazing to watch the water just pour from the sky.

Later in the afternoon, after I'd done most of my list, I talked with the Fiat folks for a bit, asked Genevieve questions about the British school system, the naming of the 'grades' or years in school and then told her that I'd been reading Margaret Mahy's The Changeover and she said that she'd loved that book. Nigh immediately after that, on the MUSH, she said, "I put my mark on you." and I was startled.

I guess I had invited her in many of my more literary creative ways. In my rp that I get with her, which I ask less of from the Horde because I have my supply from her, and in the thoughts nd dreams of my two characters there, Sephar and Faber. In many ways she really has become a deep part of my life and how I do things and what I do. While it's not as overtly passionate as some of the things I've done in the past, it really is a passion for creation in many ways. The mark of her feelings and desires is on much that I do, and in some ways her game has kept me sane through situations and pressures that I would have had no other outlet for and in those ways she is, very much, within my thoughts and my actions of each day.

Looked at in those lights, I guess I haven't been neglecting my emotional life. Some, however, might say that I've just been playing with it. Daimonique got a bit... verbally abusive one might say in play yesterday and I finally used the reaction that I'd had to real emotional abuse and just stepped away. I don't need to have that in rp any more than I need it in real life. Sure, they might say that it's just how they're built, but I don't have to suffer it gladly.

I stayed late, got a lot of things done, did my cute little lists from my Covey Franklin book and when I finally got home again, both John and I were completely exhausted. It had been a week where both of us felt like we had been working our butts completely off, but we hadn't gotten anywhere. I even felt like I was going backwards because of all the problems that I'd uncovered with the prototype in the last week. It's good to get the problems wrung out earlier rather than later, but it's still discouraging. I know, I know, I still have like nine months before it has to get out, but there's a lot of little milestones I wanted to hit before then.

The evening was pretty quiet. It was cool and marvelous as the rain was falling fairly steadily and it felt like Seattle again. Fezzik was all bouncy and we took him for a walk in the slow drizzle. We both got to sleep at a reasonable time, though I played with a few journals to see how they'd work, and the Stanley journal from Levenger disappointed me a bit by not working at all well with my quill pens. There was just too much ink from the quills and the darned paper blotted it up and spidered badly. The Clairfontaine journals that I'd gotten from Bryant worked beautifully, still. So I might just use the Stanley journal for dream journalling, where I usually just grab whatever pen I'm using by my bed side that's usually no more complicated than a felt tip or ball point. It should work out okay there.

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