Random Editorial Sidenote: Look, I'm the first to admit that I don't know anything about Phil Spector, or trials, or how "the law" works, but, judging strictly from the pics of him I've seen, I'm 100% sure he's guilty of whatever he's being accused of. In the book Blink, Malcolm Gladwell extolls the virtues of going with your gut instinct and my gut instinct is that I probably shouldn't be on a jury. Yet I digress...
One other thing: I just literally made a baby cry by looking at her and smiling and waving. Although the mother assured me "she tends to do this with boys" I can't help but feel like this doesn't bode well for my future. Lesson: Avoid eye contact with children?
Feelings: Wanderlust, Confusion about what exactly Wanderlust is, Alertness due to an unsolicited espresso, Nausea (see espresso)
I'm sorry, I don't want to spend the whole time writing about this, but I literally had to get up and move seats to avoid the terrified stare of this little girl, whose name i've learned is Sienna. She cries every time I look up from my computer. I even went as far as going into the bathroom and looking in the mirror to see if I had something on my face, which I did, but wiping it off hasn't seemed to help.
Sins: Superbia (pride), an urge to write the word Avarice again, Gluttony (the re-mix featuring Avocado)
Fears: That something definitely happened in my childhood to explain why I'm putting off writing the big scenes, that the protagonist is kind of a whiner, that I induce crying in random children.
Thoughts: I'm back, friends. Sooo f-ing back. After a shaky start to the day, I ripped through 1400 words by lunch and rewarded myself by drinking just under half a bottle of grenadine with my BBQ Chicken Salad (captialized for emphasis). The word count was good, but it was mostly back story, adding scenes here and there, as, again, I managed to avoid writing a controversial, climatic, potentially life changing scene. What is my problem? Brandie, one of my friends who works at my dad's club, seems to feel that it's because I spend most of my time "looking up Raven-Symone Pearman pics on Google images" and "giving children night terrors" but I strenuously object to that interpretation. First of all, I desperately needed to change the background on my computer and second, I think my main problem is I just need to get over the paralyzing fear that I'll choke on such an important, vital scene and just write it, dammit.
I'm sorry, I didn't mean to swear at you. It's all this grenadine.
Anyway, post lunch it was a slower go, and at one point I did fall asleep with my head on the table as "Kiss from a Rose" by Seal was piped in over the sound system, but I still got my words. I may remain 700 and some odd words behind, but, like George Michael assured us, you've got to have faith.
Until tomorrow, when I attempt to write all 2000 words lying down.
Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now,
PS- Pictured Below: A clearly innocent Phil Spector during a failed attempt to pick his nose and the natural reaction children seem to have when I enter a room.