Pugilism, B.O. and the danger of solitude

The last few days have been really busy. Work has been stressful and crazy. Lots of projects that seemed simple and straightforward on the outset, are in fact complicated, time-consuming, and are requiring quite a bit of midnight oil to be burned.

I have been working on some writing, too, when I have free time, which has been rare, but I find that it helps my process for work as well. I am now even toying with an idea for a short story, something to keep the creative gears moving when I'm working things out on my larger projects. I haven't written a short story since college, and it is sort of intimidating, particularly when you start reading short stories again, and are reminded why the Flannery O'Connors and Kafkas of the world...are, well, Flannery O'Connor and Kafka.

I am loving the whole process of it all...even the failure...but it can make you act a little anti-social/weird. I'll get up from writing and to me I've have just spent five hours of my Saturday hanging out with friends, working out problems/differences, going crazy, falling in love, breaking up, losing my hair, getting the stomach flu, but in real life, I haven't spoken to a single person all day...and didn't notice the difference. I know. I sound, cuckoo, right?

And sometimes, I feel like I'm going to bump into my characters at Milk & Honey, or at the Jewel. In fact, when I was finishing the first book, I found I would sort of look for them in crowds, as if they could actually be there. But, as interesting, or funny, or as flawed as they are...their biggest flaw is that...um...they don't actually exist. I can't go to grab coffee with them, or see a movie.

Brendan worries because I constantly read and re-read the first book, and continually rewrite it, because he thinks I will never be done. I think he should be more concerned that I read it over and over because I miss my peeps.

So, in the interest of not turning into a crazy-eyed bearded hermit, I've decided to start forcing myself to get out there, and circulate among the breathing...and in this case the heavy breathing.

I'm volunteering tonight for the AIBA Championships. AIBA is Amateur International Boxing Association, and I'm working at the training facility. And...I have NO idea what I'm doing. But, I'm signed up for the same thing tomorrow night and working with my friend Jen then, so hopefully it isn't miserable.

I picture sitting at a table checking people in and handing them towels, and I'm working 6-11:30. I can't imagine anyone is going in to train at 10 at night. But, maybe? I just don't want to be handling mucus, spit or blood. Anything else, I think I can sort of handle.

Watch, I'll be working the mucus, spit, blood jar...on standby for eyeball collecting.

Perfect!

I also signed up for an online class on getting published...focusing on navigating the publishing process. (It's very nebulous.) It should be particularly interesting because the teacher happens to be an agent who turned my original query down. I mean, how often do you have the opportunity to go back and figure out why? It's already worth the class fee as he's provided us with some great literary resources/insights that I knew nothing about. I'm really looking forward to the rest of the class.

Other than that, the other major topic in our house is that Brendan's computer at work is causing him some distress. Apparently it's about six years old and it freezes at the most inopportune times, but since he's a copywriter, he doesn't really need a 'fancy' computer. I can see that...but also...it sort of needs to work. So, he requested a laptop so that when he's collaborating in other offices, he can get his ideas down.

So, someone stepped up and offered him an older Mac laptop...but the downside? It apparently smells like B.O. (There was a problem a few years back with the glue on the keyboards, and as it heats up it smells like body odor.) Isn't that awesome?

I say, Febreze it...which is frankly, my solution to everything from compound fractures to dirty diapers. But, Brendan just says, no thanks...and then he looks a little like he's going to cry and makes a face like he can already smell it.