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I don't write much when I'm trying to gain distance in my head. Instead I lay on the bed and stare at the curtain we bought, with turns the room into an underwater cave during the day and lets us sleep later. I curl up on my side and close my eyes, head on his chest while he reads historical fiction or talks about 18th century firearms and armies. I smoke too many and not enough cigarettes and avoid being consistent in any way, shape or form.

It strikes me that all my characters are looking for something, even if they don't know what. Anna just wants away, or an answer that doesn't involve things so fantastic she has trouble believing in them even when they take shape before her eyes. Meier wants a life that's not really safer, but provides him with status enough to pretend like that doesn't matter. Lucius wants to own the world but he certainly doesn't want any more responsibility.

Finished Order of the Phoenix today, and Harry alternately frustrates me and appeals to my inner teenager. He damn well ought to be angry, and he damn well better start coming to grips with it all. Parts were just as hard to read the second time around, as Umbridge's sickening personality makes me want to throw something in frustration. I love Neville's pet plant. The twins are the only thing that keeps me from hurling the book away.

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I've always wondered why we are encouraged to celebrate Mexico's independence day, but not the Texas independence day. During my years at the university I remember the annual party sponsored by the YTC (Young Texas Conservatives) as no one else would do it. It often earned the wrath of Mexican American student groups, who railed about the racism, the suffering caused by the Texans who fought against the Mexican government. As if their quest for independence was less pure than the quest by the Mexicans against the Spanish government. I just never understood the business and frankly it irritates me. No movement has ever been pure, except perhaps for Joan of Arc. I think we should acknowledge the mistakes and faults in our histories, but move on and celebrate the idealist goals, try to carry that spirit on and improve. Is that too much to ask? Crikey.

There are dice and mellowcreme pumpkins all over the floor. Cleaning drives me crazy. I put Suicide Kings on to keep me company. Last night I started reading the second book in Cornwell's Arthur epic, Enemy of God. Alan's busy with Sharpe's Rifles and every now and then he stops to read something aloud about rum, or sargents or other interesting bit.