What's up with me?

I haven't posted in a week. What have I been up to?

The answer: a big fat nothing.

I've been making snail progress editing my finished ms. 'Working' on two new projects. And trying to work on my blog story. All with limited success.

The problem: the internet. It's a horrible, horrible thing. I get lost in it for hours upon hours. And the bad part is that I don't do anything all that interesting. I surf the same spots, read the same blogs, read the same e-mails. I think I could do more if I had a faster connection, but I'm working on dial-up. It's free so I don't complain. Much.

So, here I am, 11 at night and instead of working, I'm surfing, trying to think if anything interesting happened in the past week.

It hasn't.

I'm actually a really boring person with a really boring life. I'm a watcher not a doer. I watch entirely too much television (it's on right now. I'm watching a documentary about Wal-Mart, an entirely different conversation) and spend entirely too much time with my family. Why do I do it? I'm young, I'm in the prime of my life, I'm single. Toxically single (a whole other issue).

It's all very sad. Pity me.

What I do have are a sharp tongue and a keen intellect. My powers can be used for good or evil. Lately, they've been doing more evil than good. But, I'm always funny. Well, mostly funny.

I like that about myself. I like the unique perspective that I have on the world. Once, I was considering writing a book full of my opinions. It was going to be semi-autobiographical. It was titled 'Confessions of an Unknown Fat Girl: or Everyone is entitled to my opinion.'

Writer's are generally observers of the world. We see, we interpret, we skew to our own POV. Hey, we're fiction writers, not reporters. At least not the CNN kind, maybe more in the realm of Fox News. But way better. At least we can be believeable.

Ciao bellas