Saturday, July 28, 2012

A Theory

… Today was an absolutely fantastic day and I'm not even certain we saw anything.

We were nearly attacked by yellow-tailed hornbills (or whateverc it is they are) at lunch (one pooped on Dad). They seem to have no fear of anything unless it's within a foot of them. Okay. We managed that.

No cheetahs, no lions, no leopards, no hyenas, no wild dogs. A few giraffes, a lot of impalas, some African buffalo, a few birds (one really cute puffy one, especially).

The room in the hotel isn't particularly great. There's a kitchen separated by glass doors, with one bed in the kitchen, a kitchen table, etc. And that leads out to a porch.

Actually, on second thought, I like this little bungalow. It's small, has everything you need (even though the 'stove' doesn't work), and it's rather spacious if you have the curtains open.  But it's not awe-inspiring or anything.

Ileana and I didn't work on the camp presentation— by the time we got around to having 'quiet time' it was 9pm, and neither of us was in the mood to bring something out and work on it only to have to put it away in the next hour. Sure, we could have gotten the hotel pictures in, but I was interested in Merica Po (my secret project… did you know that merica means pepper in Indonesian? (And probably Malaysian as well)), and Ileana had just read the Brief Guide to World Domination (a great e-book, I suggest you visit The Art of Nonconformity and download it). We typed messages to each other in Text Edit and 'talked' about the guide and plans for our lives.

But that wasn't particularly awesome or amazing, so what made this day so great?

I have a theory. The last few moments of the day (or movie, or book, or whatever) is what influences what you think about the entire day. (Or movie, or book, or whatever). It's exhibited when I slog through an entire really annoying book (or just plain pointless one), and then the last few bits are sweet and I just think, "I liked this book," regardless of the fact that, for the most part, I couldn't wait for it to be over. Wuthering Heights illustrates this for me… even though I think I'll reread it. It wasn't that bad in the beginning. And The Count of Monte Cristo's last 67% more than made up for the first 33%.

SO. The last few moments of today included… writing 300 words of the Kruger post.

THE KRUGER POST! With no problems at all!

… And… (and this is big), I'd been hung up on a certain part of CHAPTER 7 of Perfume. I had to add a scene in. I started rewriting Chapter 7, got rid of the hang-up, and 456 words into the bargain!

And on top of that, I'm just plain happy. I've got a real project! One that isn't a project so much as a life goal.

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