Why are there no decent coffee shops here? All I wanted tonight was a reasonably funky-looking joint with a cool atmosphere where I wouldn't have to navigate through 25,681 pseudo-intellectuals with $200 emo-wannabe haircuts clutching their Grande Non-Fat Half-Caff Iced Mochaccinos With No Foam, A Shot Of Espresso, A Twist Of Lemon, And Dressing On The Side, Please. Apparently, such a place simply does not exist! And what's a girl got to do to find a good Sugar-Free White Chocolate Steamer in this town, anyway? You'd think a place with this many Mormons would be capitalizing on the non-caffeinated market and offer you more than just hot chocolate or - ooooooh - peppermint hot chocolate (but only for the holiday season). But no. I settled for the Barnes & Noble Cafe because at least their hot chocolate is made with Godiva chocolate, and if I'm going to drink something too sugary, it might as well be made with the good stuff. I sat down and, coffee shop (sort of) found, I pulled out my laptop and began to work.
First I wrote an overdue online post for my English class about The Role of Writing in Preserving the Arts and Humanities. I didn't post it, since I didn't feel like paying for internet for a two-second discussion post, but at least I saved it and got it done. Then I pulled out the last draft of my play and re-read it, taking care to connect with the tone and pillage nice-sounding lines at will. I have NO idea why I hadn't thought to do this before. And then, tired of being stared at by some older dude who also had a laptop and maybe thought because of this that we were kindred spirits, I actually relocated to the library. For the first time in my life, I actually stayed until the library closed. I've more or less been working on rewrites and nothing but rewrites for the past 6 hours, and I must say I'm very happy about that. You would not believe how the script is improving! I can hardly believe it myself. It's really quite liberating.
It's times like these when I remember that I actually do enjoy writing - the process of writing, not just the finished product. In fact, I think I enjoy the process better than the finished product. Maybe that's why I get so angsty when I feel like my process is blocked, as it has been for the past, oh, year. But now, oh! I wasn't sure about this when I decided to really get back into it, because for some reason I thought it wasn't good that I "lose" hours and hours when I'm really writing. A six-hour writing binge (or would it be a writing purge?) is not all that uncommon for me when I'm really working on something. And I think I was afraid of something I can't define. But I was sitting in my Doctrine & Covenants class on Monday, thinking about my future and next Summer, and I swear it just popped into my mind that I needed to write. Now. And now that I have my power cord back and I'm not in complete shock over my dad's health issues, I understand that that was a very wise impression I had. I'm happy about it.
Quick update on last post: they discovered today that most of my dad's intense symptoms were in fact caused by a virus inhabiting the tissue around his heart (who knew you could even get those?) - or rather, that he did have a minor heart attack and some issues causing it, but that the virus was intensifying them. Which alerted them to the heart problems, allowing him to get a needed angioplasty before any major damage was done. One of those "blessing in disguise" situations. So he went home from the hospital yesterday, very tired but well on the road to recovery. He should spend the next week or so sleeping and doing puzzles, and then he'll slowly return to normal. Hurray!
And now, the day-dawn has risen and it's back to work!
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