So I just spent two hours typing a story draft from my notebook into the computer (and in the process, performing the first revision). I've been needing to do it for sometime, and I should be really proud of myself, but this is a particularly exhausting story, written at the extreme low point of last summer, and now I just feel sad. I actually remember when I started the story I was intentionally trying to write something as removed from my real life as possible (people turn into panthers in this story, it's definitely one of my more out there efforts) and yet it pretty well captures exactly how I was feeling at the time. Fiction is such a strange medium, sometimes.

...OK, going to check the Cardinals score was not how I should have tried to cheer myself up. Although the game's not over yet, so at least I have a distraction. [sigh] It's going to be an interesting baseball season.