I've been writing. I've been writing. It feels good - it feels really freaking good. I currently have three projects in play. I'm putting the finishing touches on my screenplay. I went through today and made a round of edits and I think I'm almost ready to submit it to the contest. I'm just trying to finesse the dialogue a bit - make it believable and cover all of my bases. My second project is my novel. I finally think I've figured out how to tell the story I need to tell. It centers around three twenty-somethings, each at different points in their lives. It's mostly modeled on me and my friends, my sisters. Characters are hybrids of some of the most important women in my life. It feels good to write my truth. I think it'll be a valuable exercise. The last one is a call from BlogHer - they're looking for sex writers. I'm writing about physical desire and I'm so excited. I love writing about sex - the mechanics of it, the good/bad/ugly. I think it's going to be a good project to tackle in my (limited) downtime.
I've just finished a round of reading - down to 2 books from 5. I'm reading about Henry Miller in Paris. It all sounds so romantic. Some days, I think about just up and moving, but I know that in my heart, I am a complete homebody and San Francisco is my home. I've done a lot of moving since college; I don't think I can handle any more. Even if it was to an exotic locale. Maybe one day, when I'm older, I'll be able to just say "fuck it" and leave, but in the meantime, I'm still enjoying things here.
Today was a good day. I did lots of work and spoke to my parents. I napped a little bit and had dinner with my friends. The Yankees won and I just had an amazing glass of pinot noir. Everything is going to be okay. I'm going to be okay.