Wednesday, July 4, 2007
I am however much better. Finally decided to take some ibuprofen (sp?) yesterday, made the pounding stop. I also stopped trying to do things, and watched Nicholos Nickelby (sp? again too lazy to go look it up)
ate white nectarine, fuji apple, cheese and crackers, and vanilla ice cream, so much for healthy eating.
Didn't improve upon it today.
I now want to read Nicholas N, and I Capture the Castle (borrowed both DVDs from Library this week), plenty of odd characters in both. I want to see how it is written compared to how it was in the movie. But for the same reason I am already reading The Bridge to Terabithia, and though it is a short book, the closer I get to what I don't want to have to read, happening, the slower I go. They just painted the room gold.
I pay more attention now, when I read, and when I watch, not on purpose, for I could never make myself do so, even though I know it is the way to learn, but rather I find myself there unwilled, asking how did they do this, or that. Of course so far, it tends to happen more with the stuff that isn't so good, as I am more easily pulled out of the story then, and wonder how it has gotten so muddled; while reading or watching better, I forget that it was created, because it feels as, an always was, and therefore is simply just the way it is, or was, and continues to be. No questions of choice then arise within me.
Not doing anything for the 4th, went grocery shopping and to Target, surprised to see so many other people there. It is raining right now. I wonder if they will still have the fireworks tonight? Usually cancelled fireworks would upset me, I am rather fond of them, but...desire is groggy within me today, so I don't care.
I got a line from the story today, just a sentence really, but it will extend out to influence a paragraph, a little thing, but one it was important that I caught.
Stopped raining already. Suppose it will go on so, off and on.
I have fallen off, and not been working on my writing again. I am still jotting stuff down in the notebook, but not typing anything up. It is all the bother with the weeding and mulching, and digging, and still a world of work to do.
There are a lot more birds about in the yard now. They like all the planting and digging.
I find the world out the window interesting. So many creatures scurrying about, paths crossing, all day long, their world, and mine, overlap, yet are separate. Dramas, desires, battles, births, deaths, I know them not, though they take place all around me, in a space I call my own.
I should read or write, or at least watch the third movie full of odd characters.