Whatever Hole I Crawled Into

I'm recovering from an enforced internet hiatus. It's odd, but after an involuntary hiatus, I'm usually loathe to return to this computer thingie. It feels like I've got better things to do than obsessively read LJ or something.... Beats me what that is.

The one good thing about said hiatus is the sheer amount of reading that I've done in the past week. I've finally finished (and started, for that matter) Tigana, The Sparrow, and Children of God. I've started into Ringworld, though after Tigana it feels a bit odd, and I may put it off until I've taken a stroll through The Gilded Chamber.

My thoughts on TV have been, in contrast, pared down to the barest human consciousness. "Glactica good. Atlantis pretty." It's a sad state of affairs, as I do want to write, but it seems my poetic soul *coughhack* has been consumed by proteins and synthetic hormones. And this journal is supposed to be my creative outlet.

At least I can still edit. It's odd, but whenever I get into a creative rut, editing other people will get me out of it. (If one doesn't count the Rut of Evil when only blackholly's wonderful Tithe was the only thing to do the trick.)

Or, you never know, I could start drawing again...

...I have the attention span of a three-year-old.