June 30th, 11:07 | Summer Of No Goals!

So we're here, a couple weeks into summer and I realize that over the past little while I have...

made a pattern (from scratch) and sewn myself a bonnet
started ripping up my peasant blouse so I can make a proper pattern for another one
decided that it's time to stop being scared of the skirt I started making three years ago and fucked up, and finish the damn thing
done ridiculous amounts of research into slipcover-making (Holy that girl put a LOT of work into her couch, Batman)
repotted a whole mess of my plants, and started two African violets from leaf (time will tell on the success of those projects -- I call them Thing1 and Thing2)
started on the book thing for the apartment
compiled a list in my head of Things I Need To Do This Year for my "career", as it were

What's shocking isn't really that I've been doing the craftsy stuff. Summer is always the time of year when I pile projects and craft ideas on myself. It's just that usually I actually concoct a List and Set Goals and generally make a very big deal about the Dawning Of Summer: The Time Of Projects. And then summer comes and goes, and I won't have done any of them.

This year, I didn't even pick myself a theme for summer reading (last year's was "Coupland, Summer of") and I seem to be motoring through my books at a good pace, so maybe there's something to be said for just relaxing and letting myself want to create things.

On the topic of reading, I highly recommend Bruce Campbell's If Chins Could Kill; it's frickin' hilarious. Yes, even to me, the girl who hates Ash. I had no idea he and Sam Raimi were such good friends. When I'm done, I may have to pick up his other autobiography.

Yesterday I dropped by the library to pick up the feng shui (be trendy now, say it like "fung shway") books that had come in, and also picked up Bridget Jones because it was staring at me from the "so light it's not even real reading" fiction shelf. (Look, it's been a long week, alright? I haven't placated myself by watching a shitty chickflick in months, don't judge me because I'll read the occasional shitty chickbook. My brain needs relief!)

Anyway, so over the course of the evening (about 6 hours), I finished the (approximately) 300 page novel. That puts me at a little over a minute per page. Is this good? Normal? Slow? I seriously have no idea. I also like that I can finish a fluff book in a day. I mean, 300 pages of Tolkien would take me a week to get through. You know?

Of course, now, over the course of the past five minutes, I've jinxed the whole thing, by setting mental goals for myself for the summer. What are they, you ask? One is to finish reading The Power of Focus (that my parents got me last Christmas, for crying out loud), and the other is to make soap. But I can hear my goal-setting inner-head-goblins trying to add "and get a current version of Debian installed so you can start documenting for them..." and think up new ones. Argh!

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