Watts (chipotle) wrote,

Yesterday I'd had very tentative plans to meet with John N. if he drove over from Orlando to visit the Apple Store here, but while he was waking up, someone I'd worked with at NetPoodles about a year ago called and said he and another ex-Poodler were getting together for dinner at Panera. By this point John thought it might be too late to head out, so that plan got shelved, and I met Chris and Clerley around 5:30 for an early dinner and talked with them until 10:00 or so.

Chris left NetPoodles to take a job with a startup that made NetPoodles look dazzlingly competent by comparison, and that company ended up effectively folding at the end of last year. He's been out of work for eight months now. I made a joke when I got my sandwich at Panera that it was difficult not to think of the food's cost in terms of a percentage of how much money I had left; he replied cheerfully, "Oh, after a while you don't notice. When you're having a limb cut off, nicks and scrapes don't even register."

After getting home, I found myself roleplaying online until 3:00 in the morning, which is pretty rare for me these days. I'd been intending to just "archive" a character I play there I so I can use that character object for a new character concept I have, but for some reason I was inspired to bring the old one out and she promptly commandeered the keyboard.

No, really. Roleplaying well requires a mental shift similar to writing stories: dialogue and scenes that read like Watts thinking about what Revar or Mika would do isn't good enough. What I want is to effectively be Revar or Mika, letting them speak through me. Online roleplaying is rarely the stuff of deep stories--particularly on FurryMUCK--but making that shift in real-time is still hard, and the more divergent the character is from me the harder it is. Some (in writing or roleplaying) just won't come to life at all if I'm not in the right frame of mind. Last night, though (and in the afternoon before I left for dinner), this character was on, in that way that makes me think, "Wow, did I really type that?" with the impression of her looking over my shoulder and giggling.

As fun as that was, I'm still left with a feeling of being unproductive, but I'm not in the mood to produce. A distressing combination. I'm going to try to force myself to take another garbage bag to my bedroom, and start going through the old, decrepit school desk there--not to mention the boxes of accumulated junk lining one wall. I suspect the desk is destined for the garbage. It occurs to me I have a long way to go in cruft-clearing before I can get rid of any of the furniture. I still have to try to determine what's salable, for that matter, and take used books and CDs about to see if anyone's interested in them.

Last but not least, I have to take my car to the dealer's, too: on Friday the "SRS" indicator on the dashboard came on, to tell me that something may be wrong with an airbag, or a side airbag, or the seat belt, or maybe just the indicator light on the dashboard. Hopefully this is under warranty.

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