solace
I feel sad today. Sad but good underneath it all. That's pretty much how I've been feeling these last few weeks-- shitty on a surface level but pretty happy underneath the tired, worn out exterior. The winter is really getting to me... I'm totally blase, unmotivated, uninspired, and bored. I just want to sleep, curled up in front of the fireplace, with my boy and my cat. That would make me content. There's a heaviness to my body that makes me exhausted. It takes effort just to force enough introspection to write these words; there's a calm in this sadness that makes me completely indifferent. It's a time for cocooning and healing-- for things that my body and mind save all their energy.

Thankfully, the people in my fiction writing class liked my twenty-five dollar story. I was worried that they would be hard on me since I'm so infinitely (yet constructively) critical of everyone else's work. But even the professor thought the story worked well. There are still some major elements that need fixing and developing but I don't need to change the whole thing around. I have something to turn in on Friday without much worry. I just don't have the motivation to do any quality work. At least writing fiction is sort of an escape. At least I got back most of the copies I made so I can recycle them and think about my $25 going back into the environment. Fucking kinkos.

Oh, and when my story was being reviewed, I looked out the window and watched a redheaded woodpecker vehemently pecking a tree. He stayed there the whole hour... I wonder if he has a killer headache.