Dreaming of the ocean again.

The weather is cooling in Arizona, and for some reason it's making me yearn for the ocean, for the smell of salty air, the deep blue-green waters, and dark ribbons of kelp. I miss the rain and darkness, and fog and moss.

I miss the damp that gets into everything, a constant reminder of impermanence.

Every time I go back I wonder whether I'll stay.

NaNoWriMo

Yeah, I know, it's so last-year. But this year, the Scrabble Society and I declared that we would participate in National Novel Writing Month. The one stipulation was that a game of Scrabble must appear in our novels, a game similar to the one we play each week. Aside from that, the rest is up to us.

Suddenly, I have to remember all of the things I'd forgotten about stories--plot structure, character development, the like. But it's pretty fun, painting a verbal picture. I have a feeling that my characters are going to be slightly depressed people on the verge of mid-life crises. I just hope they know how to cook. They aren't going to do anything interesting or drastic, that's for certain. So far, 921 words out of 50,000. 1.8% there.


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Can you tell that I'm supposed to be grading lab reports?