5 May 2005
I am lost in my Wednesday.
Which is even more confusing now that it's Thursday.
Also I'm feeling unsure of what year it is, with revising The Grey Road and all.
I'm cutting three characters from The Grey Road. DDB was musing about how much worse than being laid off it must be to be cut from the novel you're in, because what do you do after that? And I realized that the answer, in one of the cases involved, is to go on to feature in a different novel in an entirely different genre. That your author has already written and didn't notice it was you. Even though you had the same name. (In my defense, there is a sixteen-year age difference, and I started the first chapter of the later book years before working on The Grey Road and had no idea it would become a book.) Silly, silly M'ris brain.
Do you know what the worst thing is with people like me? When we are most unreasonable and horrific to deal with? It's when we think we don't want so very much. If you ever hear a people-like-me saying, "Is it too much to ask," be advised that it most likely is, or if not too much, at least quite a lot. "All I want" is another danger sign. "All I want is the same shampoo I used for five years, acting and smelling the same." Well, tough luck, there, kiddo. Theory is not matching up with practice on the question of how hard it should be.
Difficulty is almost never a matter of should. It's almost always a matter of is.
On the up side, a major lack in Auntie Mrissa's house has been remedied: we have a big box of crayons again. 96 of them. So if certain people were to come over, we could keep them happy indefinitely. Also kids might like them.
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Or the next one.
Or even send me email.