In which I write Lovecraftian fanfiction.

The food. It was good the first week, edible the second week…in the third week, the repetition becomes unbearable. I’ve been eating Trader Joe’s snack-food in my dorm room to get by, but I’m nearly out. Three more weeks. If I eat fruit in the morning, that’s one meal down, and I can usually manage a salad for either dinner or lunch. But wow am I tired of tofu stirfry slathered in Sriracha.
Bear is beyond awesome. Wound up in the common room with four or five other Clarionauts plus Bear singing “Landslide” en masse, while she accompanied us on guitar. Was too much fun, and made me homesick for Flagstaff jam nights.
Parents totally rented their house, finally, so now they’re officially on sabbatical–and of course I wish they’d just visit San Diego! We have ocean.
The Cthulhu story is revised to the extent I’m able. It is…weird. Unsaleable, bizarre, SFhorrorWTF. It’s 8,000 words long (no market would buy it at that length), and…I don’t even know. I think I may have accidentally written fanfiction. But it does have a narrative arc, and I tried to stick to the standard formula, and I tried to do immersive worldview and pace, and oh eff it. I learned as much as I could, and if it gets savaged, I’m not particularly invested in this one, so hopefully my heart can’t get broken in crit session.
I need to hit the gym tomorrow, though. I missed my gym time so I could bust out this draft, and I feel all squicky and sleepy and manic all at once. I need to actually get out of bed when my alarm goes off at 6:30 tomorrow. No more slackin’!
Other people’s stories are rocking my world this week, though. I need to up my game for Durham week, or these peeps are going to pass me right by!

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