Being disappointing.

I have been writing this week and last. Health and a shitty pc have combined to pretty much put paid to creating recently, it's good to be back putting words down, shaping stories. My new MacBook is gorgeous, my health is bumpy but I am trying to relax about it, I'm not dying, just poorly, it's going to flare up and down and I have to learn to roll with it rather than fight it and ultimately suffer more. I need to rest when my body can't cope, and plan and manage my time accordingly.
I had 2 big things looming that I wanted to submit work to. I wasn't ready for either truthfully, but I have done my best with the time I had available to me. I just submitted the 2nd of the 2 pieces, and I thought I would feel a buzz of achievement, knowing that I managed to not let the dates slide by whilst I sat here making excuses. I don't though. I feel extremely low. Those 2 stories aren't going to do anything for me, I already know that they aren't good enough. If I haven't even the thrill of hope it's rather sad.

And that leads me to question if the small success I have had with my writing is all there is, or if perhaps I am learning more about my craft and so am more able to identify weak writing.

It's so frustrating to know that I wrote some good stuff, but some of it wasn't up to scratch, and I couldn't sustain the quality tthroughout.

blah blah blah MACBOOK blah blah blah.

My Mac Book is fucking amazing. Seriously, I am absolutely delighted with it (so far, she says, hoping not to incur the wrath of sods law.)
It is brilliant to work on and so quick and simple to use. Ahhh. Lovely Mac.
Anyway, I am hoping that now my old PC is officially dead ("You mean nothing to me," I screamed at it yesterday as I ripped the leads from it's useless body) that this will mark the beginning of a good working and playing relationship between me and my Mac. I finished a story on it yesterday, and I think it's way more conducive to writing than being stuck in the teeny room upstairs where my pc lived. It's not even a room, it was originally designed to be a walk in wardrobe, so, real small and claustrophobic. Now I can roam the house. I am getting rather backachey though, due to not using my usual chair, can't bring that downstairs, it'd play havoc with the laminated floors!

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!

I am typing this on my brand new Mac Book which I purchased, at long last, today! Having never even used a laptop before, let alone a Mac anything, I feel like a klutz with gigantic fat susage fingers jabbing away. I have no idea how to set up my email gubbins, and I'm not even sure how I have managed to connect to the internet. It all seems very mysterious!

Exercise and writing.

Hmmm, this week I have worked out that writing is, to me, very much like exercise.
I don't want to do it. It's hard work. I don't feel like it. I don't wanna. Whinge. But, when I do it, when I push through and get to it, whoo, afterwards, I. Feel. Good. When I don't write, I feel wrong (hee, didya see what I did there...)

Excuses...or life...or blether...

I'm not online much due to a mix of computer issues and ongoing health problems.
Bleurgh.
I think I have decided to buy a MacBook very soon though, and I will try to stick to this decision as I have wasted way too much time debating the pc vs Mac thang with myself and anyone who I can make join in. The upshot seems to be that Mac users become evangelical about the intuitive joys of Mac, and PC users think Maccers are suckers for buying into image. Today in despair I turned to my mum for advice (this is not something I do lightly) and she pointed out that I'd just sulk if I didn't get a Mac so i'd best just get on with it!

I saw an elderly man in falling down trousers in his front garden using a make shift catapault and aiming stones at his roof where a seagull and her babies are nesting. It seemed all kinds of wrong.