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elfsI shouldn't be writing this. My wrists have hurt for the past four days. Some kind of tendonitis, probably caused by my holding my hands in a bad position again. I've re-arranged my desk to make yet more ergonomic, tried to swap the CTRL and CAPSLOCK keys but couldn't survive it (sorry, Jamie, but some habits are hard to kill, even when they've supplanted an older, better habit you're trying to revive), and optimized my macro collection to make typing easier.
But nothing beats the beast called Write, that demands its 3,000 words a day whether my wrists ache or not. And so I write on, trying to get the stories done, get them out the door. I haven't decided if I'm going to kill off Pali Nintendo (who?) yet. Probably not. It would make a point, but so would her long-term survival. Ah, well. I did do three thousand words. Typing doesn't seem to bother the wrists nearly as much as mousing, and that kinda pisses me off because I'd like to play some games this weekend if I have the time. Oh, well.
Went to Third Place last night and ran into![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jenkitty, jenk, gloriajn, taxqueen, technoshaman, and a few others whose names I can't remember. I'm afraid that with a crowd that big I flaked and retreated to the bookstore with the kids, where I bought Dorothy Dunnett's Niccolo Rising. I've only read the first two chapters so far, but the writing is absolutely first rate, the kind of suck-you-in storytelling that I only wish I could aspire to. Jen Kitty was absolutely adorable, as always, and the kids weren't nearly as great sources of chaos in the past. I like having them together; it means each has a good companion, someone close in age, in a household geared for their age, and they've learned to be, well, age-appropriate.
Had a great lunch with Omaha at Floyd's Place. We haven't gone there in a while. The service was atrocious but the food was wonderful, if a bit on the grealy side-- just what you want from that kind of place anyway. Gotta admit, she looks hot in a shirt just two sizes too small for her.
I've been meaning to meander on about something that's been bugging me recently. My libido seems to have disappeared. I'm sure it's around here somewhere. I suspect that part of it is the ongoing strain of meeting all of my existing responsibilities, as a father, as an employee, as a homeowner, as a husband: Omaha and I go to bed each night so exhausted we barely have the strength to nuzzle, much less fuck. I can write because writing takes no energy-- it's something that happens as naturally as breathing and happens in the interstices between events, in the time when I literally cannot do anything else except maybe read.
nbarnes recently said, "I've see you be completely oblivious to some very hot people throwing themselves at you." I'm not completely oblivious. I am aware, if only because Omaha points it out to me afterwards, that there are some very lovely people who've made passes I missed the first time. I have one lover with whom I've consistently had great sex with for the past few years, and two others have recently come into my life and come right to say, "I'd like to fuck you." And I took them up on the offer. But cautiously.
Because it's not just that I have no time. Really, it's true that I have no time. But, and I hope nobody takes this the wrong, I also have so very little trust left. Once upon a time I could let down my guard and just fuck, knowing that I was being defensive against the insensate, y'know, germs that don't care. But now I know in the most visceral manner possible, in a way of which I am reminded every day, that there are people out there who view me not as a friend and a companion and a possible source of pleasure, but as prey.
Some days, staying in the cocoon feels like the very best idea.
I wrote 1,200 words today.
But nothing beats the beast called Write, that demands its 3,000 words a day whether my wrists ache or not. And so I write on, trying to get the stories done, get them out the door. I haven't decided if I'm going to kill off Pali Nintendo (who?) yet. Probably not. It would make a point, but so would her long-term survival. Ah, well. I did do three thousand words. Typing doesn't seem to bother the wrists nearly as much as mousing, and that kinda pisses me off because I'd like to play some games this weekend if I have the time. Oh, well.
Went to Third Place last night and ran into
jenkitty, jenk, gloriajn, taxqueen, technoshaman, and a few others whose names I can't remember. I'm afraid that with a crowd that big I flaked and retreated to the bookstore with the kids, where I bought Dorothy Dunnett's Niccolo Rising. I've only read the first two chapters so far, but the writing is absolutely first rate, the kind of suck-you-in storytelling that I only wish I could aspire to. Jen Kitty was absolutely adorable, as always, and the kids weren't nearly as great sources of chaos in the past. I like having them together; it means each has a good companion, someone close in age, in a household geared for their age, and they've learned to be, well, age-appropriate.Had a great lunch with Omaha at Floyd's Place. We haven't gone there in a while. The service was atrocious but the food was wonderful, if a bit on the grealy side-- just what you want from that kind of place anyway. Gotta admit, she looks hot in a shirt just two sizes too small for her.
I've been meaning to meander on about something that's been bugging me recently. My libido seems to have disappeared. I'm sure it's around here somewhere. I suspect that part of it is the ongoing strain of meeting all of my existing responsibilities, as a father, as an employee, as a homeowner, as a husband: Omaha and I go to bed each night so exhausted we barely have the strength to nuzzle, much less fuck. I can write because writing takes no energy-- it's something that happens as naturally as breathing and happens in the interstices between events, in the time when I literally cannot do anything else except maybe read.
nbarnes recently said, "I've see you be completely oblivious to some very hot people throwing themselves at you." I'm not completely oblivious. I am aware, if only because Omaha points it out to me afterwards, that there are some very lovely people who've made passes I missed the first time. I have one lover with whom I've consistently had great sex with for the past few years, and two others have recently come into my life and come right to say, "I'd like to fuck you." And I took them up on the offer. But cautiously.Because it's not just that I have no time. Really, it's true that I have no time. But, and I hope nobody takes this the wrong, I also have so very little trust left. Once upon a time I could let down my guard and just fuck, knowing that I was being defensive against the insensate, y'know, germs that don't care. But now I know in the most visceral manner possible, in a way of which I am reminded every day, that there are people out there who view me not as a friend and a companion and a possible source of pleasure, but as prey.
Some days, staying in the cocoon feels like the very best idea.
I wrote 1,200 words today.
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Date: 2003-08-21 03:15 pm (UTC)As for the wrists, definitely get an ergo keyboard. I use a Kinesis Contoured, which has the added amusement of watching anybody else try to do work on my system. And get a pair of wrist braces. My husband has a pair that have cushions for the heel of the hand and wrist plus stabilizers to straighten the wrist properly. He uses them while working on the laptop, says they make life hugely easier.