The Weekly Dump

I haven’t slept well this week.  As a result I’ve been tired and cranky.  There’s been very little to brighten the days.  My workload seems to be letting up just a bit, but that doesn’t mean there’s not more that needs to be done.  There’s always something.  And again, the lack of sleep has caused my brain to malfunction for the last couple of days.  I can’t seem to think my way through the things I can normally get through, if not easily then at least eventually.  Oh well.  Shit happens.  I’ll sleep this weekend, and with any luck, that’ll get me back on track for next week.

There was one very cool thing that happened this week.  On Wednesday, when I finally decided I needed to get out of the office for a while, I met former Carolina Hurricanes’ defenseman Glen Wesley at the coffee shop.  I recognized him instantly but kept thinking there’s no way that’s really him because what the fuck would he be doing in a coffee shop in downtown Raleigh?  Well, he does still work for the team and lives in the area.  He can get coffee downtown if he wants.  I ended up standing next to him as I waited for my brew.  I wasn’t going to say anything, just content myself with the fact that, dude! I saw Glen Wesley at a coffee shop!, but I pushed myself out of my comfort zone, spoke to him, shook his hand, got his autograph.  He was very nice and seemed genuinely pleased at the recognition.  He was always one of my favorite players, so it really was very cool to meet him like that.

For a good 36 hours afterwards, I felt like a huge fucking idiot for having said anything to the man, but whatever he thought at the time, there’s no way I made the sort of impression on him that he made on me.  So fuck it.  I did find it a little strange that no one else there seemed to know who he was, but I think that speaks volumes to the lack of hockey’s popularity even with a team in our backyard.  Then again, in this area, the competition from college basketball is pretty intense.  I like basketball quite a bit, but hockey, to me, combines a lot of what a like about basketball (speed, agility) with what I like about football (big men hitting other big men as hard as they can).  And they do it on ice.  What’s not to love?  Well, okay, culture of violence, head injuries, etc, etc.  Hockey just works for me.  Yes, I’ve been drinking, so if I ramble on about hockey, just deal with it.

Anyway, yes, Glen Wesley is a nice guy.

I’ve done just about zero writing this week, although I thought hard about finishing a story that’s been in progress since last June.  Hard enough in fact that I bothered to open the file a couple times.  It’s not that it’s bad or anything.  It’s that I’ve got so little creative energy right now.  Not to mention, I don’t have the faintest idea how the story was supposed to end.  Obviously, I’m not going to let my heroes suffer but so much, but was I really going to let them have a happy ending?  It almost looks that way.  I want them to get out of the mess they’re in right now, but then …?  I don’t know.  The things they’ve done, the things one of them in particular has done, to get out of the mess must have consequences, but I don’t think I ever had a plan for those consequences.  If I did, I don’t recall.  So I need something else.  Maybe if I can get back to working eight hours a day I’ll have time to think about that.

I’ve also wanted to go back to the supposed throw away story I was working on, which I haven’t touched in a month.  I realized that I hadn’t really earned the ending I had planned.  You’d think that, for a story that wasn’t supposed to matter, the ending could be as bad or as good as I wanted it to be with no thought to how the story actually got there.  But a funny thing happened on the way to that end.  I managed to fall for the main character, which means he’s begun to demand a more coherent story.  Bastard.  Really, I should have known better.  The moment he showed up on the page, I knew I’d have to do something more with him.  And, if I stick with the ending, he’s important enough to the history of my fictional city of Pale that I really should do what I can to get it right.

I should probably think about going to bed now, but I think I need to get one more glass of water down before I do that.  So.  Off to the kitchen and futher hands of solitaire games I can’t win.