Five days to the Animax deadline and all I have is five pages. It isn't that I'm panicking, I think the trouble is that I'm not. I should. Early enough for me to do something about it.

I don't want to write today. No, no, no.

Oh wait, I just did. Blah.

Enough

I have a headache, but I have Biogesic, and if that doesn't work, Flanax Forte.

My room is exactly the right degree of cold, even if Andypuppy is hogging the pathway of the airconditioning.

There is exactly enough money in my wallet for a present for my mom, lunch and two coffees for tomorrow. There is enough money in my checking account for the electric bill and the credit card bill when they come, without me having to go below the minimum daily balance.

My sisters are asleep on my bed, and my dog is asleep, snoring like a train, with his head on my right foot.

My internet connection isn't in the Mbps range, but I can get my mail, and update, and download the last episode of "Gift" if I leave it on overnight.

It is enough.

One day, perhaps, it won't be. But when that day comes, I will have more.

Endless Summer

One summer, some thirty-odd years ago, long before I even knew there was such a thing as advertising, my mom made me sit down and copy the entire Disney encyclopedia. Granted, they were skinny volumes with lots of pictures, but still.

I remember now, it was the summer between first grade and second grade. See, I had really bad handwriting, and I wrote really sloooooow. It was probably because I was left-handed and they made me write with my right. I still do. But anyway. I rarely finished copying down my lessons because I'd be too embarrassed to say I wasn't done when the teacher asked if she could erase the board. Which was why the highest I ever got was second in class. (Remember, this was first grade. High school was a different thing entirely.)

But the thing that bugged my teacher so much that she called my mother in for a meeting was that I lost three spelling contests in a row. It wasn't that I couldn't spell, it was just that I wrote too slow. Never mind that my answers were always correct, I. Was. Just. Too. Slow.

So. My mom decided we should work on my writing. I have the callus on my ring finger to remember it by. And the dubious reputation of being the fastest AVP writer in the sideline circles.

I remember it well, it wasn't so bad. But I wanted to draw. I wanted to read. I wanted to ride my bike to the neighbors and play. But no. I had to write.

It's that summer all over again.

One day, I shall be a mangaka. In the meantime...

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