Hiding.

[icarus]

I have cocoa, cookies, and some leftover cookie batter.

I have an overdue paper I'm picking away at by proposing my zaniest theory (the theory is called "pure dumb luck" or "delimited options" -- historians, how mad am I?). It's guaranteed to get completely shot apart by my professor, but after the shitty week I've had, I don't care.

I have the next chapter of Out Of Bounds rewritten and (probably) ready for reposting. I have WG here reading the Watchman. (I figured he'd better read the novel first or he'd be bewildered and frustrated by the movie.) I'm making minor edits to the epilogue. The music for the short program is queued up.

I have two movies on hand. I am fully equipped to ignore all RL disasters for the weekend. If all this doesn't work, there is also popcorn.

And oh, look, this quiz result surprised me with a writer that I...

a) know, and
b) respect.

How unexpected.

I am: Ursula K. LeGuin Perhaps the most admired writing talent in the science fiction field.

Which science fiction writer are you?

And now... dive! *The yellow Icarus submarine burbles beneath the surface of reality*

Comments

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

Oh, I know what you mean. My dad is one of those cool-hand Luke types. He gets so... calm... when he's angry. I always wanted to be calm and devastatingly sarcastic like him.

Instead I get all riled up and I see myself shout-y and chair-throw-y and can't stop, even when the cat's run under the bed. The guys in high school used to deliberately piss me off, just because they enjoyed the show.

I wish I could offer you some methods of distraction, but I don't know what helps.

I'm going to watch Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid tonight.

Also, writing fic helps a lot. A kind of immersion therapy. :)