Mystical words? Trust me, it means I worked out very well. I'm hoping it will begin to compensate for the 2.2 pounds I apparently gained in the past week. I'll lay off the sangria for a while and focus on vegetables and Luna bars. ...I'm still hitting the scotch tasting tomorrow, however. Nothing gets in the way of that.
I did some Christmas/Hannukah shopping this morning, picked up some really cool things, and knocked $10 off my bill. Try Googling the name of where you're ordering from along with discount or promotion code, see what you come up with. It's that easy!
Monday was my final 1000 Words or Less class but tonight is my penultimate Writing for Publication and Profit class, in which I design a promotional brochure for a company and submit the final draft of my book query. Rather than promoting my dark fantasy The Rise of Night, I created a second novel concept, The Battle-Hymnal, which combines dark future sci-fi with dreamlike surrealism. I hope. Will either of these ever get written? The Rise of Night has the best chance, as my Independent Study was approved and I'll be taking Advanced Creative Writing for my capstone next semester, in which I will produce the next two chapters. Maybe three! Why not? Now I see why novel writing is such a slow grind: it's awfully sophisticated work.
In other news, I'm trying to decide whether I actually do not have a friend close enough to confide in, or that I just don't feel comfortable complaining about the more perceived personal ills of my life to anyone. Even that phrase, "perceived personal ills," I had to rewrite that five times just now because I didn't want to imply my life is hell at all. It's good, everything's good, but sometimes I need to vent and I don't have a receptacle for that kind of steam. It may be parts of columns A and B: I haven't engendered that kind of friendship (certainly, most or all of my friendships have tapered off and dwindled in the last year), or I do tend to handle these things on my own. Or other factors I haven't considered in the midst of my irrationality. As time goes on I question my judgment more and more. No one has been shy about pointing out the flaws in my perception or deriding my "logic" and values, and I find it very hard to trust myself.
That's a large reason why I'm unwilling to complain: I'm probably wrong. Things aren't the way I see them, and I'm unjustified in feeling about them the way I do. It's easier to shut up and let these things pass.