I'm goin' in, people

Daily Stats:
Words: okay go
Caffeine: morning cup + midday cappuccino
Evil Calories: AMAZING chocolate chip cookies that my dear friend Jessica brought me for my birthday. I've been chain-swallowing them by the handful.

I know I said we needed time apart. We weren't getting along and we were so sick of looking at each other we had nothing but curled lips and stink-eyes to share. I vowed to stay away until at least the end of May. But I can't. Because writing a book, that, for some sick and twisted reason you were meant to write, is like being in love. Real-life love, not cliche, stereotypical, birds chirping/butterflies fluttering, fakey frosting with sprinkles love. Real-life love can make you feel sick, can give you a headache, can make you question everything about yourself. It can make you feel like a dull, talentless sub-human with fat ankles. But you can't just walk away. You have to grab it by the ear and make it work, because you've come too far; put way too much of yourself into it. And even though you may appear silly, deluded or just plain stupid, you believe, in every nook of your bones, that you can make it work.

So, starting tomorrow, I am beginning my rewrite on AC. I've got my checklist all ready:

- fridge stocked with grapefruit flavored seltzer water
- desk candy jar fully stocked with Runts
- playlist assembled on iTunes (featuring Apres Un Reve, Op 7 No 1. If you haven't tried writing to this song, you should).
- gardenia scented hand lotion
- picture of The Brain from Pinky and The Brain on bulletin board
- box of tacks ready to maim above mentioned picture of The Brain, because he represents my stinky-faced inner critic and he can go suck it as far as I'm concerned. If he gets in my way I'll go medieval on him. I'm not kidding.

So, breathe...namaste...bonsai...wax on, wax off...paint the fence...there is no spoon...yadda, yadda, yadda...here I go...