The State of SLS

The knee is still sore, though a little better. My poor roomie has been carrying me to the loo for the past day and a half, bless him, but I've got class tomorrow, so I'm going to have to brave the shower whether I want to or not. The only reeking vapors coming from that classroom will be courtesy of my professor, please and thank you.

I so need to get off the stick with my ficcing. I used to be so disciplined, so focused, and now, I'm a lackadaisical doughgirl. I sit and stare at the screen and get distracted from my word-weaving by wank wars and rumors of wank wars and shiny Grissom Secks on the TV and food, and well, you get the picture. There is no discipline in the ranks anymore, and that needs to stop. Now.

One of the biggest problems I have is people continuing to IM me after I have told them I am ficcing. That means that, unless you are on the verge of suicide, I wish to be left alone. I don't want to meet your friends, nor do I want to play checkers/chess/mutual masturbation/guess my kink. I want to be blinkered by my creative cocoon. I would turn the messengers off and solve the problem, but my ISP has a habit of logging me off for inactivity if one isn't on.

Your Easy Field Guide to La Guera:

I am ficcing=Piss off.

Hello=amenable to natter; welcome to the show.

( The State of SLS )