Today is my last day of work for the present. With any bit of luck and wind in the winged boots of the USPS, the several checks I am waiting for will arrive soon and I just might feel financially stable enough to buy a computer.
Setting aside the frustration over a hard-drive the size of a peanut and processing capacity to rival an abacus, part of the reason my need desire for a new computer has ratched up to something nearing (but only nearing) an obsession is the impending arrival of NaNoWriMo. I suppose Word processing hardly takes the most processing effort from my machine – but it would be nice if, upon lighting-bolt of inspiration, the computer would yield to my instantaneous desire to transcribe said genius. Instead, I suppose, I will return to the tried-and-true pen and paper, because let’s face it…that will get the job done faster than waiting for the beast to wake up and come to some semblance of a functional state.
I really just wish November would hurry up and arrive so I could start writing. In the interest of maintaining interest in the work of craptastic brilliance I am going to create, I haven’t allowed myself the pleasure of planning, outlining or preparing in any way, shape or form since that inevitably prompts the desire to commence writing. At this point, however, I think I have decided on a starting place and three characters (well, two potential characters – certain friends upon discovery of my upcoming quest have requested to be included…we’ll see how that works out). There is currently no plot, but in the interest of keeping this month as painless as possible, I have decided on a genre and that being Humor (slash utter ridiculousness), hopefully a la Douglas Adams. We’ll see.
The uncertainty and proximate insanity of my impending adventure is a nice distraction from the well-phrased question of life, the universe, and everything. Because really, the answer makes about as much sense to me right now as 42 does. Who knows where I’m going – in just about any sense. In some ways I suppose it’s good for me to have to keep chillaxing and flowing with the proverbial river of life, but ambiguity is hardly my state of preference.
So, even if no epiphanies arise out of the 50,000 words I am going to shape into a novel, the break from stressing about life will be nice. 🙂