I was thinking how sweet it might be to be given a pet name as bizarrely unique as Scaramouche (à la We Will Rock You), but then I discovered that besides being the name of a French restaurant, Scaramouche was (is) the name of a roguish buffoon character and was all disappointed. But then I continued reading and learned that the novel of the same name started with a great line: "He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad" and all was redeemed.
99.8% of the nicknames people have given me are all derivatives of my actual name, either first or last.
In the last 6 months, I have almost written as much and more than I have written in entire years of my blogging career. Funny how easily you can agree to run away with your dreams when the right inspiration hits you. Also funny how what inspires me also pulls me away from my writing sometimes. You don't hear me complaining though.
Level up.
I want to read and write and perhaps do a bit of house work. While the witching hours never kept me at bay before, I suddenly find myself comfortable in my own bed, the idea of sleep winning over any of my usual nocturnal compulsions. I'm amazed at how a person's habits can change with just the right type of persuasion.
I am falling asleep pondering the notion that everything happens for a reason; every meeting has its purpose; every action causes a reaction. I will dream, wondering of what tomorrow may bring.
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