(no subject)

So sleepy. Should not be up. Why am I up on a day when I have no work?

Actually I've been totally slacking the past two. Three days? I said I'd have the novel submitted by Monday. I totally lied.

Actually I was also awaiting the arrival of my own copy of the Chicago manual of style. Which is no excuse; I could have gotten it from the library like I usually do. Figured I'd get my own copy now. But still. I'm all out of excuses now. And I'm almost frikkin' done. Which is why I'm coming up with all these last minute excuses. Which I really should stop. It's still so bloody terrifying. I have this fear, now, the latest in the series, of being that annoying person at the conference who's submitted to every publisher there and they just can't get rid of her but still no one wants...

I really need a smack upside the head don't I? Yes. Shut up, Jag. Write the damn book. It'll be fine. If it's not, you'll edit it till it is. Write the damn book. And stop staying up till 2 in the morning and eating cookies for breakfast. Those are the ways of the old Jag. This is the new Jag. Who exercises and eats healthy and drinks plenty of water and writes when she's supposed to. Remember?

Right.

First on the order of business is definitely a little more sleep, though. And then some breakfast. Tag comments and posts while I'm eating. And then a glass of water and some writing. And then a break for a little RP. I don't have work today, only have work a little while tomorrow. And even if I'm working almost full shifts the next two weeks, I'm not working more than four days a week. Money dictates I should work most to all of my scheduled hours. But that doesn't mean I should stop writing, not if I can work full hours and still write.

Oogh. Still sleepy though. Back to bed for a little while. If I don't see y'all before you leave or disappear for whatever family oriented thing you're going to, or friend-oriented, or just away, Merry Christmas. Or whatever. You know what I mean. Yawn. Back to bed.

(no subject)

I'm trying to sew at the speed of light and it just occurred to me that I'm pinning the wrong sides together. Or rather, not the wrong side of the fabric, but the wrong edge of the piece. Crap. At least I realized it before I'd actually sewn it, otherwise I'd've had a very long seam to pick out from very small stitches at a very fast clip. And this lining fabric seems like it's about to tear at any second, despite how sturdy it is. Feh. Also, no costume is complete without having stabbed yourself in some fleshy part with a pin. At least once.

I love sewing. I do. It's something I can do and do well, after the four years of training, and it's something I enjoy doing. In no small part because when you're done you have something that you can see and hold, something that you've made out of pieces. Something that's useful and pretty and yours. And unlike writing or painting, I know I can do it well. I'm not sure why that knowledge is different from the other skills I have, but it is. I'm going to start sewing myself some new outfits for Maui possibly in May or June. A couple of blouses, a couple of pairs of slacks, maybe a suit jacket. Lightweight stuff. On a ritualistic aspect, because it's empowering and armoring. On a personal, psychological aspect, beacause it's empowering. This is something I've done. I don't completely suck.

I'm going to stick myself twenty dozen times till I have more holes than Bush's stay-the-course speeches, but I'm going to look damn good when I'm done.

I'm listening to Cirque du Soleil still and reminding myself to take the pins out before I sew over them at warp speed. I've already bent one needle today; thank the Goddess it didn't snap and sent a needle point flying across the room. I never would have found it till Christmas morning and then it would have gotten embedded in somoene's hand or foot. Merry Christmas. No, it's only bent, and I can throw it away later.

I'd forgotten how good it feels to be sewing. Brisk, efficient, competent. Then I'll stretch and do some weights and then I'll write, supported by this feeling of capability.