I am in the snappy, possibly bi-polar mood of jubilant anger and elation. To quote an Italian nursery rhyme, La fiamma traballa. . . but my cow is not in her stall. Though I have been writing nonstop for days now, the work is not complete and I can't seem to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I feel overwhelmed and have no interest in food, so I've placed myself on the self-invented gelateria diet. Did you know that a carefully chosen frappe that can act as breakfast, lunch or dinner?
Like a broken record, I'm stuck on frappe al cioccolato-- it keeps me motivated and fills my caloric need. But it still doesn't quell the annoyance. I'm annoyed that babysitters don't grown on trees, that the Professor falls asleep in the middle of sentences, and that yet again it is 1:30 am, hands are swollen and the only thing I can do to turn off my brain is watch 90210 or Gossip Girl. Love Blair, love Naomi. They actually inspire my writing. Not kidding.