Writer's Block, Early Sunday Morning

There are only a few people that can make me angry just by showing up, who annoy me every time they open their accursed mouths. Or maybe there's just one. In any case, he shouldn't stop by when I'm trying to write and failing.

Note to self: Don't try to write this much in this little time, ever again. I have ten pages left to write for Monday, and I keep hitting my head against that wall Prof Dintenfass was warning us about all term.

(And I keep complaining about hitting my head against that wall Prof Dintenfass was warning us about all term. I apologize in advance.)

I've met the wall before, the wall and I are good friends, but the wall has never decided to try and muck up my grades. It's just not like the wall, to be this callous.

But my characters can walk and talk, this time! They can sing and dance and climb and I may just make two of them have sex, because now my characters are capable of action, pardon the horrible pun! I can write something besides setting and blogish exposition, and that's progress!

So I've grown as a writer, and it will all be worth it, etc. I just need to finish. And that, as they say, is the tricky part. Between the wall and the many tempting forms of media only two clicks away from my story, I haven't been ever-so-productive.

Yesterday night I watched Winter Sleepers, which was good and German. I've watched hours of The Simpsons already this weekend; I'll be glad when I can burn all those episodes onto CDs because they're destroying my productivity and I think I might be addicted to watching them.