When everything starts breaking down, you pick the pieces off the ground.

Thank you mizo_no_oto for confirming my test post!

I'm in San Francisco. I almost feel like I went to sleep in Chicago and
woke up here, except not exactly. We tried to pull an all-nighter last
night, but just couldn't do it, so instead we got a 2 hour nap before
driving to the airport to catch an 8 am flight. I slept only half of the
flight. The other half I watched the movie Sideways which I've
seen already but it seemed more interesting than Coach Carter and I almost
almost re-watched Hotel Rwanda but figured I tend to cry during airplane
movies anyway, so no need to go there. And yeah, I got a little teary
during Sideways. During weird parts. And I liked it better the second
time, for some reason. The first time was in the beginning of hype, then
the hype got even bigger and I wondered if the movie really was that good,
but watching it this time, in the midst of writerly insufficiency and
confidence exhaustion, etc., it just got to me in a different way. Or
maybe it was just the regular exhaustion. I'll cry at anything remotely
sappy or sentimental or life-affirming when I'm tired. Hell, I got a
hallmark e-card for Cinco de Mayo from Roberto that got me a little misty.

I had a lot more to write about, but sitting in a strange computer in a
foreign office suddenly makes me feel self-conscious in my writing.

But let's try it anyway.

I'm typing this journal entry from limenal's desk and she's in a
meeting with a client. I'm shakey and woozy: from flying, from not eating
enough, from reading my intense book about vietnam soldiers, from looking
out the window from the 14th story. This is the first time of travelling
alone in San Fran. I mean, I'm staying with people and seeing people, but
I'll also be exploring some alone which I realized I've never actually
done before in this city. Of course most of this "alone" will be reading
and typing. I might go back to Grace Cathedral and sit in the park there
today or tomorrow. I could use the stillness.

I'm extremely stressed about these next two weeks and finishing up this
semester and getting these pages out of me. The freelance deadline and
the paperwork deadline stuff is annoying but do-able. I have less
confidence in my ability to pull out all my fiction writing. The
existential crises are running amok. So, speaking of, I'm going to go do
that rather than continue writing here.