Friday, February 02, 2007

Jelly Belly Beans, Dr. Who, Hakuna Matata and a Sigh.

I'm a fan of Jelly Belly Beans. Buttered popcorn, pina colada, tangerine, strawberry cheesecake and very cherry are my favorite flavors. I'm not sure why a pocketful of Jelly Bellies makes it easier to think but really they do. I feel very Doctor Who when I'm walking around pondering complex problems of the universe while keeping the destructive powers of our planet at bay (mostly laundry, dishes and teenagers) and all the while nibbling jelly babies (that's English for jelly beans).

I've been a Doctor Who fan for most of my life. I remember being grounded more than once for staying up and catching the late night reruns of Doctor Who on PBS (Fourth Doctor). I'm watching the new series. I loved the Girl in the Fireplace episode. What, a spaceship with multiple doors that lead into the life of Madame de Pompadour in 16th century France? I watched the whole thing three times. Woo, hoo clockwork robots. Thank goodness the CBC is on my baby cable line-up.

On the writing life, very little forward movement on the 2007 Novel Push. I sent in my synopses for my new easy readers for Picture Window Books. I continue to peck at my rewrite. I'm sending happy thoughts toward the Netherlands and I'm striving to not worry. An editor mentioned I've done a yeoman's duty on my current project. I think that means that I can manage 1001 details to keep a project afloat. That was a shot in arm for my writer self. I'm not going to worry this week. That's my main goal. Every time I start worrying about the current project, I simply reassign myself the task to not worry. Hakuna Matata!

New York is very soon now. Before that, I must cast myself into the rough seas of creativity wrenching scoring for two days. That not-to-be-named test would have caused William Shakespeare to lose his creative spark. I also have taxes to do over the next couple of weeks. Sigh.

You need chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star.
Nietzsche

If my doctor told me I had only six minutes to live, I wouldn't brood. I'd type a little faster.
Isaac Asimov

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