Feeling: sleep-deprived
Listening to: Queen - Show Must Go On
Reading/Watching: legal jargon, in *very* squirrely cursive

Had fun on Friday, choosing which things to submit to the litmag.

If you're curious, what I sent in was four poems (A Night Out There, Bitch, The Hypocrite (not posted online), and Tinkerbell), two short stories (Stains & The Bayou), and two "personal essays" a.k.a. journal entries, and after much hemming and hawing, I settled on Darling One and The Ugliest Christmas Tree in the World.

I always say I am borrowing my time against the weekends, when I can sleep endlessly. But no. Friday night, was up until after three, woke up at 10:30 to scramble to a practice with a pianist. Tonight, here I am, typing up law cases for my part-part-part time job (since I need to bring them to my "employer" at church tomorrow morning), and my alarm is set for 8. I am some kind of idiot.

And I need to be looking at my lines for the play. We're off book on Tuesday. This is all your fault, Miller; I hope you know this. "Ye-no, yeah... maybe?" "And now... diiiiie!"

And to think: I was thisclose to seeing Burt Bacharach, if only my luck had been better. ::wistful sigh:: (okay, I'll stop being a smartass)

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