The software, specifically 3D Home Interiors and Adobe Photoshop, are an interesting contrast. There are entire books written on how to use Photoshop. I have two from the library. The one I like best teaches you to use the program in 24 hour-long lessons. The functions and features tend to be easy to use, but there's tons of them. It's like sitting down in front of a gigantic pipe organ with dozens of extra keys, stops and pedals; I want to try them all. On the other hand, 3DHI is far less complex, but it took several days before I felt I could get around in it. Features are awkward, and don't all work very well (e.g. I have yet to figure out how to put knobs on kitchen cabinets. They either attach to the top or to the floor, and can't be moved to the front. Grrr!). There's no tutorial, and the Help information isn't terribly helpful. I've been switching between them, so I don't get too overwhelmed or frustrated.
After golfing at Edgefield on Sunday, I decided to use the driving range time I paid for last fall. So for the last three mornings, I've gone first thing over to Eastmoreland and spent some time practicing. I can't wholeheartedly endorse golf. It's mostly a way for rich people to conspicuously waste time, money and resources, and I feel out of place at a "real" golf course. Still, I'm good at blending in, and nobody's going to realize that I'm exploiting their putting green so I can play better at a far more laid-back course. I think I've identified a couple bad habits in my swing, but I'm still hitting left about 15°. I'm not hooking it, it goes in a straight line. I may be turning my wrists over too soon... Hey, you read all the way through this paragraph! I'm impressed.
You're probably curious about the soldering, if you haven't been reading sanguinity's journal. She's building a set of flashing LED's to go on the lines for a tent and sun shade, and I volunteered to help solder. This may seem purely altruistic, as I'm not going on the trip for which this project is being built. However, I get a lot of soldering practice (seven joins on each of twelve strings), plus four evenings of hanging out with sanguinity and grrlpup, AND I've been fed mango sorbet (which was practically eyes-roll-back-and-mutter-incoherently GREAT!) and shown the short film Troops. A pretty good deal, actually.
But none of that is why I'm restless, exactly. It's all fun enough, but I haven't written anything since last week. And I feel a bit unsettled. Not quite agitated or anxious, but fidgety. Edgy. Dithery, even. In the sort of mood where one might look up synonyms for "restless" in the thesaurus. And it feels like that ties back to not writing, somehow.
I've usually been diplomatically quiet when other writers, especially youthful ones, announce dramatically, "I have to write! I can't help it!" Perhaps they feel an imperative, I don't know. It usually seems to me that such proclamations are more to convince others that they're Serious Writers. I don't know that I'd go so far as to make that claim, but I've been writing a LOT in the last year. And I've been absorbing the belief and conviction that I am foremost a writer. So writing is a habit, and apparently one that if I don't indulge it, makes me restless.
I usually am ambivalent about things that have such an impact on me, like my love/hate relationship with Coffee, the Life-Giving Beverage of the Gods. But this is kinda cool. I am a writer. When I'm not writing, I feel the effects. It's not life-threatening, so I can't say I Must Write Or Die, but it's as if writing has seeped from my brain into my body, into my nerves. I'm hooked. When I go without, withdrawal sets in. I must feed the craving, putting words on the page, so my proprioceptor system will know that all is right with the world. Even if it's just telling all of you about how I have to write, or suffer the consequences.
Well, I feel better. Thanks for reading!