Stream of Consciousness Sunday: A Desk

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I met Jana at the NonCon in Atlanta in October and am not sure how I'd never crossed paths with her before then. I'm glad that the blogging fates brought us together though because I need more people with whom I can discuss candy and the evil intentions of the Keebler elves. Jana does a thing called Stream of Consciousness Sunday which seems tailor made for my little gerbil brain. So, I decided to give it a go today. The basic idea is that you write for 5 minutes and do not proof or edit. Here is what came of my very first SOC Sunday.

I have a desk now, a writing place. I've never really had one. I usually write while lying on the couch which makes me feel kinda lazy if I'm honest. It makes me feel like I am just doing a little something instead of the big something that I really hope to do which is to put meaningful words down in print.  So, we finished moving Luisa's workspace down to the family room and cleared out her old, small desk and now it is mine. If you open the door that was originally supposed to hold a giant CPU, you will find paper and printed copies of a very old manuscript. My expandable file folder is in there now - it contains all the printed drafts of the essays that I hope will make up this book that I am writing. It makes me feel a little bit more like a writer, even thought it shouldn't matter at all. But I have a desk. And piles of my writing. And a new chair. And it makes me feel something...something that is just out of my reach to explain. This is the first thing I have written in this new space but I hope it won't be the last.

5 Minutes Inside My Head

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I love it when a gauntlet is thrown. My twitter/blogging buddy Stephanie threw down on twitter and challenged me to write a post in 5 minutes and I said, in my typical mature fashion, "I will you if you will." And she did. This means that you can blame her for the following 5 minute post: So, I am watching a couple of birds outside the window. They aren't fancy birds - they are brown birds. I don't think that is the technical name for them though. Maybe there are "brown birds" in the world but these are just your run of the mill pudgy Minnesota birds. One of them has some fluff in its mouth and I think that's sweet because it's probably going to make a little nest somewhere to keep its babies warm except that I don't think this is actually bird baby season. Now, I suspect that the bird is building a bomb shelter in my gutters which is less sweet and more evil. I just paid to have those gutters cleaned. Also, I don't want to alarm anyone but recently the cat and I heard some scuttling in the wall. I mention the cat because I'll take any kind of witness when I need one. I was sitting on the couch doing Very Important Things on the computer and the cat was lying on my lap and, in the wall behind the couch, we heard a noise. I turned and began silently pleading...please...be...the...wind. Then, the cat jumped off my lap and stared at the wall and I freaked out a little. So, I banged on the wall because that's what you do when you think something is trapped in there, right? Then, I went upstairs to do Very Important Things in bed (no, not those kind of things) because I was afraid of hearing the sound again. But I haven't heard it. The banging solved that! So, I am now mad at the bird with the fluff. Bad bird. BAD BAD BIRD.