Caution: Composer Trying to Concentrate.

I never really thought I would miss the con library as much as I do right now. You see, I am composing again, and I miss my composing spot: the study carols in the con library's addition, along the southern wall. Having a spot is, in my experience, essential to actually being able to concentrate. I don't have one in my house now: the kitchen table has uncomfortable chairs, the sofa is too soft and inviting of sleep, and my TV and computer call to me wherever I am, basically. I need a place of relative quiet, where I can hear no other music, and where there is no TV. I need walls around my head that screen my peripheral vision, and a large, clean surface on which to write. Currently the closest thing I have to a spot is a too-upright green plastic chair on my front porch, where I must contend with such annoyances as bums, hoboes, idlers, scallywags, scofflaws, ne'er-do-wells, and public urinators; colonizing ants (large enough to actually wear tri-corner hats, should they choose to do so); rhythmic thumping from passing cars and revs from criminally unmuffled motorcycles; dogs that look cute until they poop on my lawn, and owners who look equally cute until they fail to pick up the poop (the fabled double-whammy of cuteness lost).

As such, it should come as no surprise that my progress in writing is less speedy than I had hoped. But fret not, my friends, for the impending nuptials of two college friends shall indeed have music. Music, I say!

Also, allow me to report on my professional development: I have officially left the realm of the temporary. Whereas I once stood with feet firmly on the ground, straining to stabilize the corporate ladder for those on their way up, I have now joined the ranks of the ladder-standers. Or something? The point is that I am now an employee at the very company that has used me on a contract basis for the past ten months. My job is basically the same, for now, but I get a little more money and health benefits, and, soon, an embossed nameplate to hang on the side of my cubicle. I've also received a company ID featuring what I believe to be the worst official photograph ever taken of me. Due to the unfortunate placement of the machine relative to my face, the light reflects off my glasses in such a way to make it seem that my left eye is lazy. Additionally, symmetrical shadows have appeared beneath my ears, giving the impression of a mullet. Thankfully, I rarely have to display my ID.

This weekend, I am traveling to Montreal with the gang to visit Manic and Pedantic, a friend from high school. I will issue a report on any international hijinks when I return.