Spent the late bits of Friday afternoon playing in Genevieve's game and finishing off a triumphant bit of work at work. Interfaces and inheritance of interfaces is *kewl* stuff. I'm really enjoying both the game and the work that I'm doing and it's really funny and kinda keen to be able to do both at once.
Also did all the slides in the morning, so I didn't feel back at all concentrating on Fiat Justica while I could.
Amusingly enough I dreamed of Sephar patiently going over computer stuff with Daimon, eventhough Daimon's player is likely at least as versed as I am in the ways of how silicon dreams.
I also got some perplexing email from Marklford that made me think a lot and talk with Raven some. It also made me think through a lot of assumptions I'd been making about myself and about my abilities and about what was stopping me from doing the things that I used to do. Especially the writing.
I mean... why did I believe that Mark and my breakup with him had killed my writing ability? I now look at it and know that the whole emotional drain pulled my energy from *everything* that was part of my life. That the breakup killed everything, not just my writing. I had to heal before I could create again. But now that I'm healed, what's stopping me?
Some of it is my hands. They hurt today. Ache badly because of MUSH'ing and training materials and documentation and, to be honest, these journal entries. But I can always use the dictation software. I can write. It's not really up to Mark or up to anything he did or didn't do. It's my own ability and my own desire and my own will that's going to get words down or not. I need to write. So a lot of it comes out here.
So, this morning, while John was out, I sat down and dictated the first two parts of the Monster Truck writeup. I'd done half the first part, already.
To do without doing. Or worrying about the doing. Just getting it done. It feels very good.© 1998 by Liralen Li.
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