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Mar. 11th, 2010 09:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeI just transferred all my writing-related files from Soren (my laptop) to Guerrero (my pocket ninja netbook, shaddup) via chip. I could have done it over the home intranet but the connection's being wonky right now. But I transferred files via chip. A small, flat device half to at most two thirds the length of my thumb. And I have small thumbs. When the hell did we get to the future? This is Shadowrun tech, dammit, not real life tech! I grew up booting computers that had eight colors if you were lucky and black-amber or black-white or black-green screens with floppy disks! That were actually floppy! And weren't discs at all till you cut the plastic casing off, but hey.
Seriously, when did we get into the future? This is so... weird.
No more sentences, I lied. Considering I only made one mistake and that, regarding potatoes, I think we'll let it slide.
Что ты ешь на завтрак? With a partner, complete the following sentences.
1. Что ты ешь на завтрак?
На завтрак я ем (хлопья к завтраку?) тост с джемом и молоко. На второй завтрак я ем фрукты.
2. Что ты ешь на обед?
На обед я ем пиццу с сыром и шпинатом.
3. Что ты ешь на ужин?
На ужин я ем курица терияки.
And that's about enough of that, since the next part is the instrumental case.
I got eight solid hours of sleep last night. I can't even remember the last time that's happened, without being punctuated by nightmares or anything of the sort, or woken up at fuck o'clock in the morning by the cat. The sad part is, I only feel sort of rested. The better part is, I felt good enough to do all my exercises and less irritable. I probably need more of this, but ah well. Early bed again tonight, same cat time, same cat channel. But, hey. One night of more sleep is a start?
I'm talking with my baby brother again, via email. Apparently he's been mentioning me enough to Mom that she got the impression she should nudge me to talk to him, so I've been trying to do better about that. It's... very, very odd. He's grown up. When the hell did he grow up? Actually, this whole morning has been one long stream of cognitive when the hell did time go by that fast dissonance. I'm not sure I like it. Definitely don't like being this discombobulated. Need to find my footing again. ... need to stop talking like Rorschach.
Right. And.. heh. Yeah. I got NOTHING done yesterday, writing wise. This needs to stop. I need to stop letting depressive fits or general emotional upheaval prevent me from getting in at least some writing or editing time. Getting things done does help, and even if it's just doing it little by little, being able to cross things off my list will feel good.
Seriously, when did we get into the future? This is so... weird.
No more sentences, I lied. Considering I only made one mistake and that, regarding potatoes, I think we'll let it slide.
Что ты ешь на завтрак? With a partner, complete the following sentences.
1. Что ты ешь на завтрак?
На завтрак я ем (хлопья к завтраку?) тост с джемом и молоко. На второй завтрак я ем фрукты.
2. Что ты ешь на обед?
На обед я ем пиццу с сыром и шпинатом.
3. Что ты ешь на ужин?
На ужин я ем курица терияки.
And that's about enough of that, since the next part is the instrumental case.
I got eight solid hours of sleep last night. I can't even remember the last time that's happened, without being punctuated by nightmares or anything of the sort, or woken up at fuck o'clock in the morning by the cat. The sad part is, I only feel sort of rested. The better part is, I felt good enough to do all my exercises and less irritable. I probably need more of this, but ah well. Early bed again tonight, same cat time, same cat channel. But, hey. One night of more sleep is a start?
I'm talking with my baby brother again, via email. Apparently he's been mentioning me enough to Mom that she got the impression she should nudge me to talk to him, so I've been trying to do better about that. It's... very, very odd. He's grown up. When the hell did he grow up? Actually, this whole morning has been one long stream of cognitive when the hell did time go by that fast dissonance. I'm not sure I like it. Definitely don't like being this discombobulated. Need to find my footing again. ... need to stop talking like Rorschach.
Right. And.. heh. Yeah. I got NOTHING done yesterday, writing wise. This needs to stop. I need to stop letting depressive fits or general emotional upheaval prevent me from getting in at least some writing or editing time. Getting things done does help, and even if it's just doing it little by little, being able to cross things off my list will feel good.