Prepare for the Ides of March!

The playwriting workshop starts again Sunday and I'm not ready. I'm not sure I'll ever be ready. The idea of writing a full-length play is too monolithic for words. It's just one big block of stone and my hands are covered in petroleum jelly.

BF and I are off to Yosemite at May's end. I'm entering the next and longest stage of the vacation process: planning mode. I bought a second Camelbak last week so BF won't die of dehydration on the purple mountains majesty. (Translation: I don't plan on sharing my water.) And then I bought hiking shoes sight-unseen -- that is, if you count buying over the internet as sight-unseen. They have Vibram rubber soles that I'm assured "apply torque on rough terrain." (Translation: they were half-off and I didn't do any research.) Speaking of roughin' it, I'm looking to make dinner reservations while we're there. Some place nice. Preferably a place that BF has to wear pants -- that's my barometer of quality. By night, we'll sleep on cots in tent cabins and by day we'll dine on fine cuts of meat. Ah, paradise -- now with communal showers!

I said to BF, "I'm starting to think of our Yosemite trip as a live-action World of Warcraft adventure without all the killing."

I got a tsk, tsk out of him.

I'm going to see a play tonight in Carpinteria called, "Habeas Corpus." The actor who played the monster in my play has a featured role, and I told him I'd go. It's not that I don't mind breaking promises, because I do it all the time, it's just that I prefer to think of it as a low-level quest that'll net me easy experience points. And maybe the act of dunking myself in theater will generate some much-needed inspiration. Try as I might, I'm not finding what I need inspiration-wise in the delightful fantasy that is World of Warcraft. Although I make a mean linen bag...

It's been over a month since LASIK and I can still see. I can't rub my eyes 'til May, but I can read fine print on my television set. Operation: success!

After a month long break (and an inconsistent use of hyphens), I've started sweating on schedule again. By that I mean, going to the stupid gym. If I don't go regularly I get all these weird random shooting pains, but if I do go regularly I get all these slow, dull, persistent aches. Ask me in the middle of my workout which is better and I'll just kick you in the face. That is, I'll push the stop/pause button on the treadmill, calmly step to the floor, and deliver a round-house kick to your chin. Blood will fly out your nose. And you will probably cry. So don't ask.