So I’m in California at this conference thingy and I’m all jumpy and wired. I was sitting in the hottub at the hotel and finished the book I was reading and had this desperate need to write. Then I realized that unless I wanted to write in longhand, I wasn’t going to be able to write anything. That made me even more stir crazy. It was like knowing I couldn’t do it was enough to make me jump out a window. Then of course I realized it is 2008 so it is likely the hotel has a computer for use, it is almost 11, and no one would be on it if there were such a computer available for guest use. I was right so here I am.
Problem is I have this urge to spill but a lot of what I want to spill is stuff I don’t really want to write about in a public forum. Maybe it’s because I can’t get to my private journal at home I’m all antsy? Maybe, maybe not. I’ve been this way all day. Up and down. I’m lucky because I found a book at the airport by an author I adore. It isn’t serious writing, just a good story that keeps me entertained and makes me laugh. It kept me occupied most of the day, kept me from letting the brain take over as it is wont to do on occasion. I’m not like this so much since a lot of stress has alleviated in my life, but I have my moments and I’m having one today. Maybe I’ll settle in tomorrow.
Anyway, they have a fifteen minute limit here and I still need to check email and my other blog so I’m off to it. At least I could pour out these few meaningless words.