Spent last night three hours south in Sutherlin Oregon. Graffiti weekend is all old cars, family and hundred degree weather, but we went with the cousins so it was a little more entertaining than usual. We went swimming in the pool until they shut the lights off on us and then walked to the 24 hour diner across the street and pigged out on greasy foods and desert.
Besides that everything is still boring. I've discovered that my enthusiasm for writing and the excitement I feel for my stories isn't matched by a single person I know.
That sort of sucks. I feel completely alone in all of this, but if I'm really serious with myself, I guess things could be worse. I'll just keep it entirely to myself from now on (at least as much as I can without it bursting out of my ears) and give everyone a break.
Is being an author as rewarding if nobody supports you? Is it the same experience if you have no one to share it with? Or more accurately, if no one can muster enough enthusiasm to put up with your constant yabbering?
I'd do it for them in a second, no arguments, no complaining, because I'd know how important it is to them.
So that's all. Home from the car show, had a little fun, and I'm all alone in my dreams. Two parts alright, and one part suck.
Not too bad odds...