These are your notes, seriously?

(Okay so this post is actually hours later than the one on top of it. I like pretending I can manipulate time.)

I am behind in typing up my notebook notes into my computer. I'm using my cold as an excuse, but having such an excuse wont make me feel any better, as I get farther, and farther behind. So I just grabbed my notebook and some receipts I have written stuff down on. And I found I had to ask myself for the umpteenth time, "Why why why do you do this? Why do you write notes on these teeny tiny pieces of paper? Can you seriously not stop what you are doing and go get a real piece of paper? And what is with this handwriting?" Even in the notebook I have to sit here and read, and reread it, because I can't read words, and sometimes whole sentences, and I have to guess, or not bother knowing what it was I was trying to say. If this is important to me, if this matters, why do I treat my ideas, and my words this way?
I know part of it is, it is really hard for me to write neatly unless I write extremely slowly, and I am in a hurry when the ideas and words come, trying to capture them before they disappear. And sometimes I do write while driving, so it can't help but be messy. The receipts however, I did those while I was at home, they were just the closest paper. That is stupid. Really I need to stop doing that. "Seriously woman, stop doing that!" It is going to take me an hour to type in a paragraph with all the necessity of deciphering. Ugh. Typing up notes should be an easy process, not a challenging stressful one.

Such a procrastinator, I think I need an assistant, no not someone to type stuff up for me, I know I need to do that myself, as the work tends to expand during the process, but rather someone with a lot of Nerf stuff, they can threaten me with whenever I get up out of my seat, or wander over to the blogosphere, or decide I just need one more song to help me write, like Sway, I was thinking of getting it last week, now it has been mentioned at Vanilla's so surely I need to go get it from itunes before I start. Now the looking at tons of Legos on ebay, that wasn't my fault, I was guite forced to that against my will. type type type, now now now
typed in 1,200 words. It hurts, that always surpises me. That it burns that it rips me apart, these simple little words, and ideas. And I must tell myself again and again, you will survive it, yes it will hurt, you will burn, but so too will you glow.
If, I mean when, I truly work on this, on manuscript next month, there might be a bit of swearing here. It is quite lovely really, I sit here typing it in, sighing and sighing, a story of a thousand sighs, and saying shit shit shit over and over to myself.
Just finished typing in receipts, only part one I really missed parts of was the one with poem, which has nothing to do with story so no big deal. Just popped back in here, because I feel weird using term burning when so much of CA around San Diego is on fire. I can't imagine, I can see it, but still. And losing one's home.