Man. I shouldn't be at work today. I was originally trying to get today off--instead I traded yesterday to come into work tomorrow. Not by choice, but I have a second big order coming in. I should probably spend today putting together another, really. Fuck. At least then I could dick around at a computer. Until all the children on spring break show up, that is. I really need a different job. Or like, a career? "lol."

Point is, Thursday is standing group for writing/scotch adventures. The last few times I've gone have been after working late, so scotch only. Which is cool--I'm 30 now, so I do things like comment on the particular experience of different scotches--but I haven't been to the writing/coffee shop portion of the outing in quite awhile. I don't think my writing is suffering because of it--we don't write much and I suffer other reasons--but I prefer to keep up the illusion of writing by attending outings with other illusionists.

Recently I decided--making sweeping decisions about things I am not doing, as I do--to work on a few comic projects I've been stewing on, which should satisfy my desire for short stories and working within constraints. So--easy, fun--but I have to sit down and do it god damn it, and therein is the trouble, always.

So I know wht I should be doing, what I would like to be doing, and instead I am huddled in a bathroom stall with this damn contraption, babbling to my Internet diary. Cool.