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Day two of hydrating after lots of fantastic boating over the weekend has me drinking hot wellness tea that smells of peach. It sounds odd, but when I'm attached to my computer for hours and hours I like hot liquids just to make up for the lack of movement. And at some point I make myself switch over from caffeinated beverages.
So I have six pages of science research training proposal written and it occurs to me to ponder why it feels so odd to call myself a writer. What is it about the word that has such strong connotations of fiction and a publishing firm, I wonder. I have no answers, I'm just wondering.
Clearly, seeing as how it's two o'clock, my productivity window for the day is closed, obviously. Unless there's something magical in this peachy wellness tea.
I was meandering around, as one does when one is procrastinating and waiting for the water to heat in the electric kettle, and browsing through issues of Science and Nature and such. And naturally I go straight to a fanfic place when I read the planetary science headings, which proclaim the discovery of a population of comets in the main asteroid belt differing in origin and temperature from those in the outer solar system.
Well obviously, says the fanfic part of my brain, we should be alarmed about those comets (sure, maybe it's the Asgard, you know, but Maybe It's Not.)
*sips tea*
*flips page to see the artsy side note to the aging article that shows the moon goddess Chang E who apparently stole the elixir of immortality from her husband*
Anyone else immediately think that was a painful divorce in which the moon goddess came away with the beach house and the sarcophagus? No? Just me, then.
( I really think that it's highly unlikely that Sam Carter could've continued to read the big five journals; she'd have to stick to the purely theoretical physics stuff just to sleep at night. )
I should go back to work, but Katie's Wandering Blind is calling me. (In a little bitty fanfic voice. "Minx!" It says, "Miiiiiiiiiiiinx....")
So I have six pages of science research training proposal written and it occurs to me to ponder why it feels so odd to call myself a writer. What is it about the word that has such strong connotations of fiction and a publishing firm, I wonder. I have no answers, I'm just wondering.
Clearly, seeing as how it's two o'clock, my productivity window for the day is closed, obviously. Unless there's something magical in this peachy wellness tea.
I was meandering around, as one does when one is procrastinating and waiting for the water to heat in the electric kettle, and browsing through issues of Science and Nature and such. And naturally I go straight to a fanfic place when I read the planetary science headings, which proclaim the discovery of a population of comets in the main asteroid belt differing in origin and temperature from those in the outer solar system.
Well obviously, says the fanfic part of my brain, we should be alarmed about those comets (sure, maybe it's the Asgard, you know, but Maybe It's Not.)
*sips tea*
*flips page to see the artsy side note to the aging article that shows the moon goddess Chang E who apparently stole the elixir of immortality from her husband*
Anyone else immediately think that was a painful divorce in which the moon goddess came away with the beach house and the sarcophagus? No? Just me, then.
( I really think that it's highly unlikely that Sam Carter could've continued to read the big five journals; she'd have to stick to the purely theoretical physics stuff just to sleep at night. )
I should go back to work, but Katie's Wandering Blind is calling me. (In a little bitty fanfic voice. "Minx!" It says, "Miiiiiiiiiiiinx....")