stalking:
the beat
bookslut blog
cashmilliondollars
dude. man. phat.
defamer
jane espenson
josh friedman
neil gaiman
tim goodman
molly ivins
listen, lady...
lj friends
mastodon city
pc petri dish
theo's gift
warm your thoughts
wil wheaton
xoverboard

doing:
SMRT-TV
los angeles
knitting
web design

writing:
bookslut
ostrich ink
HEARTtaker
screenplays

reading:
John Bowe (ed):
Gig: Americans Talk About Their Jobs
Gail Simone:
Birds of Prey
Sarah Vowell:
Take the Cannoli
Howard Zinn:
People's History of the U.S.

listening:
kcrw
woxy

watching:
The Daily Show
Prison Break
The Office (US)
Lost
Kitchen Confidential
Veronica Mars

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Monday, February 09, 2004

I'm not a particularly good sleeper -- I'm restless often, have a hard time settling into dreams. But I don't usually have a huge problem with insomnia -- it doesn't usually take me longer than an hour to get to sleep, and that's if I've been indulging in caffeine. I've been surprised, of late, as to how regular my rhythms have become. My body's been settling into this life fairly well. I'm sleeping more than I ever did in college, at least.

This morning, though, I woke up dying of thirst around 4 AM, and just couldn't get back to sleep. Not even a really bad Star Trek novel (brought down to LA during the Great Book Nostalgia Fest of Christmas 2003) could conk me out. So instead, I lay in bed, worked on my scarf, and watched an episode of Homicide: Life on the Streets, which I've borrowed on DVD. (Holy crap, that's a good show.) Watching the sun come up through my window, all the while. I was the first one into the office this morning, made it past lunchtime without even indulging in caffeine... Until around 4 PM, when I nearly collapsed from withdrawal and exhaustion. Strong tea and Advil helped get me home, but now I'm limp as a rag, the faint buzz of sleep deprivation a tangible presence on my brow.

Early to bed for me, I think.

But first, I'm going to write two pages today. Since Friday, this has been my mantra. It's easy to write two pages of something, after all. Easiest thing in the world. Sometimes, when the rhythm's good, it means three or four or five pages instead. And that's a good thing too. But two pages is all I need to do. Two pages are all I'm going for.

Since I started repeating "just two pages" to myself, I've reworked twenty pages to smooth along a second act, outlined the next twenty pages of the screenplay, and gotten a few key scenes done. Not to mention a page of comic book script, a page of character descriptions for another screenplay idea, a page of a short story in progress, and some brainstorming for a play.

Since Friday.

Plus, I saw a movie and the George Sarah concert, enjoyed a night of bar-hopping, bought new pants, hung out with friends I hadn't seen in a while, went to the gym, and finally, finally finished Conversations with Wilder and started one of my new books about graphic design.

Since Friday.

This is pretty good for me.

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