I'm sitting in the living room; the rest of the family has gone to sleep after watcing Wall-E (to Kevin from Santa), while tomorrow's dinner boils and bubbles away on the stove (I was bored and overambitious -- yes, it is past eleven here). I have at least an hour's worth of cook time left, and not much of anything to do. I cleaned up the living room (all wrapping paper is gone); I even got my brother to help. And now I'm back to my standard state this break: boredom.
I have not been posting largely because I have not felt like I had anything to write; I have been trying to write this break and have not had much success at all (2 pages of beginning to nothing in particular doesn't count). I think the creative deficit is finally hitting me (last night and this afternoon especially), which spurred the decision to cook, certainly. It was something to do, at least, but it didn't really make me feel like I had brought anything new into the world -- except a batch of pasta sauce that is still incomplete and could have been done hours ago if I had done it the way mom always does it instead of adding too much liquid. And a loaf of cornbread which turned out nicely.
It's been forever since I had an idea for a story, basically, and I'm really beginning to feel it. The drabble below is my attempt at forcing myself to re-enter the fray, even if I feel like I'm rusty and out of shape and have run out of any unique ideas. Honestly, I'm not; I'm burned out intelletcually after finals week and out of practice with writing after my Nano-inspired break. I just need to get back into it. Which is, perhaps, easier said than done.
Perhaps that can be a New Year's resolution. That and a few other things, like "Excersize outside of Silks class" and "Ask more questions" (this is my favorite).
On NPR today a TV critic listed his top 10 TV shows of 2008. Making the list was Pushing Daisies (ABC, I hate you for cancelling one of the few good shows on television) and Doctor Horrible (Yes, even though it was not on television -- it was so awesome they bent the rules).
Drabble: Made Up, inspired by the word "Narcissism"
Juliette primped for the mirror. She smiled at it winningly. Her mother called something from downstairs, but she disregarded it, adjusting her hair infinitesimally.On a completely unrelated note, I am glad the Doctor Who Christmas Special shows in the UK tomorrow; this means I might be able to see it sometime in the next century. (Boo to BBC America for showing the last three Christmas Specials here tomorrow, and not the new one!) And you know you've gone into Doctor Who withdrawal when you start dreaming about the Doctor. I was Martha (I was not "his companion", I was specifically Martha). There were plant-people. I woke up before discovering what their intentions were, but the Doctor was not the least bit afraid. Last night was a big night for dreaming; there was also something about Chicago, but much more of that has faded away since waking.
She looked lovely.
Her date was, of course, waiting. She checked her appearance one last time, making sure nothing had gone awry. No, still beautiful. She almost cried at the beauty of her own visage, but she stopped for the sake of her mascara. She stood, carefully, and turned for the steps.
When she got to the front door, he was gone.
“Where is he?”
“It’s been two hours. Did you expect him to wait forever?”