09.03.04

Thank you dicentrah and hissandtell for your generous kindness. Kind generousness? Gah. Simply put, because that's the best way, thank you.

Yesterday's gentleman poked a hole in my defenses in a big way. I didn't even realize that my deflector shields were getting that powerful. It's easier to not let myself feel, than to risk being hurt.

Between looking for work, worrying about the future, fearing rejection, getting rejected again and again...augh! While I chewed the lines of confidence, I didn't really swallow them--not for me. It's easier to believe in everyone else, than to believe in myself. Y'know, in that quiet way--not the shouting and banging way that I'm partial to.

In all the reading that I've been doing, something leapt out at me. The piece described writers who are always talking about their next thing; the novel-in-progress, the screenplay, the short story, whatever. But those people never seem to finish their novel, story, play, whatever. Now there's a swift kick in the shin of ego. Lately I've done a lot of yapping, and not much producing. Oh shit! I've become one of those. Augh! Well, we can't have that.

In other, more pedestrian, news:

A squirrel has spent all morning trying to get into Mater's super-duper, extra, ultra, deluxe, pan-dimensionally squirrel-proof birdfeeder.

The feeder lives up to its claims. Every 15 minutes the squirrel leaps onto the metal birdfeeder with a *whump* and a clatter of claws. It clambers down to the perch which, triggered by weight, *clunks* down, and closes the feeding windows. The squirrel tries the other side. The same thing happens. A few minutes later, defeated, it slides down the pole horizontally--claws scraping all the way.

Fifteen minutes later, it starts again.

Got to give the beastie credit. Don't know that I'd act any different if taunted by easy pickin's.

Back one. ||||| Forward one.