Angela Tung Oversharing on the internet since 2005.

When will I ever learn?

I couldn’t sleep AGAIN last night, and not because of a crazy downstairs neighbor.  I stupidly had some green tea in the late afternoon.  I didn’t think it was that strong, but obviously it was.

On top of that, we have mosquitoes!  What the fuck, San Francisco?  I thought you had no mosquitoes.  I guess it’s been the very warm, followed by the very chilly weather we’ve been having these past couple of weeks.

Last weekend MB discovered a bite on his (shaved) head, and I had one on my forehead.  We thought it was from our walk out to Haight-Ashbury.  But earlier this week, I’ve had more bites: on my face, hand, feet, arms, and calf.

The bites are super tiny and disappear fast, nothing like the ones I’d get in New York which would swell to the size of a half dollar and be insanely itchy.  These are more just an annoyance, especially since I can’t find the little buggers.  I *think* I saw them yesterday, and if that was them, they are incredibly fast and tiny.  There’s no way I can hunt them down like I did back east, where the skeeters were big, slow, and stupid.

So last night not only was I wakeful because of the tea, I was paranoid about mosquitoes.  Luckily the weather has cooled down, so I could blast the ceiling fan and cover most of myself with a blanket.  But I was up for a long time brushing away every tickle on my face, whether lint, hair, or actual little pest.

Yesterday I worked on my writing, though not enough to my satisfaction.  At least I got draft pitches down, as well as a draft of an essay, and started catching up TNB reading.  Today I will probably type up/revise/focus on the essay (which is a little all over the place right now), but also want to get out of the house.  Shopping!  Haven’t done that in a while.

I discovered that Real Simple is having their annual essay contest now.  Totally entering it!  Though the deadline is coming up very soon.

The complaining comments on the page crack me up.  How dare the judges give the prize to a 10th grade English teacher?  Surely she has an up on everyone!  Um, hello, the magazine awards the best essay, and the best essay not only has to have a great story, it has to be told well.  And yes, perhaps an English teacher or professional writer will tell that story better.  Them’s the breaks.  What should they do, say, “If you get paid to write, teach people to write, teach English, were an English major, ever wrote something ever in your life, you’re not eligible”?  That makes total sense.

Idiots.

This entry was posted on Sunday, September 5th, 2010 at 11:26 am and is filed under rant and/or rave, san francisco, writing. You can follow any comments to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.