I am a pathetic sick person. I usually just lay around in bed and watch netflix, perhaps switch to a book once in a while. Most of the time I don’t even want to get out of bed to go get food, or a drink, or anything. Its kind of sad really.
So why am I writing a post while I cough all over the keyboard? Because I need to do something! I’m one of those people who must be doing something at all times (when I’m not sick) and being sick makes me a little bit crazy! I get to feeling cagey which doesn’t help my sneezing fits. To demonstrate, so far today I’ve:
watched a documentary on James Town (I’m a geek I know)
colored a picture in my dusty sketchbook (gee when was the last time I drew anything?)
watched Astro Boy (God, what am I 5? haha) I’m a sucker for Disney
Started feeling cagey
Ate some toast with jelly.
Drew a picture of Pascal from Tangled (That lizard is too cute)
Checked my WordPress (five times)
Checked my email (twice even though I know there won’t be anything new)
felt more cagey
Drank some vitamin water
stared at ceiling
get even more cagey
Decided to write this post before I exploded.
And so after this I fear I will have nothing to do. I’m debating whether writing while sneezing is conducive to the creative processes or if I will just end up with:
she walked down the *sneeze* block and then saw *sneeze* her *sneeze* *sneeze* brother was *ACHHOOOO*
and then give up.
So, since I’m useless today I decided to review my writing from yesterday. My little pause is over, and I’ve decided to start “A Light That Shatters”. For your viewing pleasure I give you a little snippet from the first chapter! Enjoy…. or not (if you’re not enjoying it, I don’t want to know about it. Tell me when I won’t go into a sneezing fit):
I wonder what it’s like to hug someone. I don’t know what that feels like. What it’s like for someone to squeeze you so tightly that you can almost quantify their love in the circle of their arms. I’ve seen a thousand embraces, but I don’t ever remember having the feeling myself. Perhaps I did, before I was taken, but I was so young, if anyone’s arms had looped around me I won’t have remembered even the ghost of the feeling. Maybe it’s better that way. I won’t have the feeling to miss. Or maybe no one had ever loved me at all. There is no way of knowing.
(c) Ally Sestito at http://www.novelideaslifeofateenwriter.wordpress.com/copyright
I suppose I’m off to try to write something. How are your projects going?