the methods and means of procrastination

[& now for some] DREK!
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There is no mood there is only Zool.
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What do you write in a diary or journal?
What kernals of wisdom must daily be laid down into the blank field?
What is the benefit of looking back at yourself through time?
Why do you need to see growth?
What difference is it to you?
Are you the same person tomorrow?

So I've been reading Victor Hugo, C.S. Lewis, and watching a variation on Tolkien. My brain is now full of silliness and turns of phrase. I'm not listening to music. I have no patience for it today. I've been sucked into one of my projects and can't get it off my mind, because it isn't right yet (but it is oh so tasty.) I just really want to take a walk in the woods near my house. That is all that i really care about. I have an urge to walk away from my job into a career.

My company laid off 1/4 of my office (about 1/4 of the company actually) and I'm still getting over it. I've had to exit 9 people and it doesn't really bother me, but it does, ya know? It bothers me more that this is less a sign of pruning, and more a sign of what is to come. I expect to recieve the fabled order "shoot everyone in the company, then shoot yourself." or "turn the light out when you leave." bah. I stay because I have no other income. I dream because I stay.

Til We Have Faces was an extremely yummy book (says the classist) and it really did put my heart at ease. I'm terribly annoyed that the New Christian Order has taken Lewis up as an example of good christian writing, but it is true. [this is the same group that keeps supporting the Left Behind books, and buying Carmen tapes. *shutter* ] I think I see him as one of the last good christian fiction writers. I'd really like someone to prove me wrong.

The Hunchback of Notre Dame was a lot better than I thought. I figured we were going to have a good old Thomas Hardy roasting, but in fact Hugo was elequent, funny, well timed, and only spent a tad too much time on the fascade of Notre Dame. I guess it is important to describe the gargoles that Juhan de Mulin is going to dash his brains on. The devil is in the details.

I'm also reading Anthills of the Savannah, which is confusing, and not as entertianing as Things Fall Apart. It's about a petty dictator, and i need no convincing that he is petty. I don't really know what the novel is trying to tell me. I am hopeful that it will become clear eventually.

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