Well. It seems to be working for me. I've got 2 pages of my short story done, which is a lot for one day. I feel great. Angie might come visit me in two weeks. My big 2100 word article has been published and is on newstands: http://www.sanjosemagazine.com/month/index.htm. My mom just posted photos of her trip to Berlin. There's one of her all dressed up for a gala event and she looks beautiful.
My desk is filled with things - books, papers, food, a pencil, chapstick, CD case, globe, mug with last night's tea, cookies. The floor besides me has books all over it too, Steinbeck, course readers, shoes, a ditionary. I feel like there's books all around me. I feel secure. I think of material posessions. Think of how it is that thought I've spent all of today by myself I don't feel alone, nor lonely. Though I miss Lindsey, it's true.
And I've spent enough time here. My story calls. Work. Always things to do, but I like that. Anyway, enough of these disjointed thoughts.