Things I’m thinking about right now

My leg is still twitching.  It’s the muscle on the front of my right thigh, a little to the left above the knee.  It’s like having the hiccups for two days in a row, except much less embarrassing.  Last night, Justin and I curled up to watch SG:1 together and I could feel it twitching against his leg.

I can’t access LiveJournal today.  The network filter at work is blocking it out now.  It’s not entirely unexpected—when I was working in another building, I couldn’t access it either.  It’s just frustrating because I enjoy knowing what’s happening with people I’m friends with on there.  Also, I was finally going to start up “Wake up the Muse” again.  I guess I’m just going to have to write up posts in a document that I’ll access from home and then post from there.  That’s fine, really.  If I take the time to actually work up a handful of ideas, it should help me actually get the whole thing off the ground for the first time in . . . months.  I don’t know how long because I can’t open the silly site!  (Stupid web filter.)  Since before the wedding, I’m pretty sure.

I’m wearing a necklace today that I bought at the Renaissance Festival this year.  I saw it at the beginning of the day and then couldn’t remember where I’d seen it.  We spent hours looking for the stupid thing before looking toward the very entrance of the fair.  Seems obvious now that we should have looked there right away, but that place is enormous!  And my memory—not so much.  The necklace, anyway, is a small orb at the end of a cord with a piece of smelly wood inside of it.  The orb is made of a thin metal with a patterned texture, with gaps so the scent can get out.  They had about a dozen different scents, lavender and myrrh and a bunch of others.  Apparently about half of them are scents that druggies use to cover up the scent of their . . . hobby.  I had no clue, so I’m standing there at the counter asking if I can smell these different necklaces, all of which have a questionable history.  And the guy behind the counter and Justin are just standing there, laughing a little, because I obviously am totally clueless.  I didn’t ask about the more innocent scents because I already know what they smell like!  Lavender, sage, pine, I’m good on all those.  Sandalwood, rosewood, some German name I couldn’t pronounce, not a clue.  Anyway, I ended up choosing rosewood.  It’s a little bit strong, but I like it.  I don’t generally wear perfumes or scents of any kind, so having this accessory that had a distinct scent amuses me.  Plus, I think it’s really pretty.

I’ve been thinking more about my website and ways that I could make it more interesting.  I could take more pictures and post them.  Pictures are interesting and I like taking them, I just having taken the time lately to do anything like that.  So I probably should try that.  Also, maybe I should get a pet!  Pets, unlike people, don’t mind when you tell embarrassing stories about them on the internet.  I was reading something yesterday about how mommy/daddy bloggers sometimes worry about how their children will react once they’re older and realize that their whole childhood is posted on the internet for the world to see.  I don’t have children to embarrass, so I could either write about me, which, okay, that’s not a problem, or Justin, but I’m pretty sure he’d not be too fond of that.  Besides, we don’t actually do much that’s actually interesting or cute or silly.  Mushy and lovey-dovey, got that.  Willing to write about it all the time, don’t got that.  So a pet!  Something cute to take pictures of and lots of ideas for content!  Totally solves my problem.  Right?  I’m thinking maybe a fish.

Last night at about 9:00, I stepped outside to stand on our porch.  That’s one of the things I’m really going to miss about our place right now.  When I go stand on our porch, it’s like an extension of the house.  Because the only access to it is from the inside of the apartment, I feel safe and comfortable there.  I’ll walk out in my pajamas and slippers and sit at the table and I’m as happy and relaxed as can be.  We’re up on the third floor so the sand gnats that live in the grass don’t tend to bother us—their tiny little irritating bodies can’t fly high enough to get us.  The same holds true for pets and children and strange neighbors; I’m up far enough away that I’m not bothered.  I like that a lot.  I like having my sanctuary there, with my fountain and my garden and the view of the lawn and the lagoon.

So I stepped out there last night.  It had been a warm day when the sun was out, and now that it was dark, it was starting to cool down, but not terribly.  The humidity in the air made it soft and it smelled like dried grass and summer breezes.  A few of my neighbors were enjoying the weather, too, standing on their own porch and chatting with friends or down on the lawn walking the dog with their kids.  The sky was clear and I could see the moon over the end of my building.  It wasn’t terribly calm, with cars driving in and out of the parking lot and people chattering away.  But it was relaxing standing there and watching, enjoying the evening air.

And I thought, “I’m writing this.  I’m already thinking about how things look and smell and how I’m going to write it all down.  Instead of just thinking about how nice this is, I’m thinking about how I’m going to write about how nice this is.”  And it reminded me of a quote I found a while back by Eugene Ionesco.  I have no idea who he is, but he once said, “A writer never has a vacation.  For a writer, life consists of either writing or thinking about writing.”

So does that make me a writer, then?  Or just a huge dork?