Dark and stormy night-ish

Hello my loverlies! It's half past three in the morning and Jenn is high on dexies (OK not actually dexies, not quite anything so interesting and drug-worthy because this is Malaysia and I am a huge coward and I wanted to try all this stuff in Australia but didn't get around to it as even coffee messed with my brain to say nothing of a single glass of wine and this is the longest parenthetical aside ever)

I am high. As a kite. I just finished the second article I was contracted to do. And I did it in record time. Yeah, really, I did. And I think it's super good (fingers crossed the client thinks so too) and I have all this energy left over for some other creative activity.

Which reminds me, I have a dark and stormy night story for you. It was a dark and stormy night, winter winding its icy tresses around my fingers as I typed away in my uni's megalab. It was four in the morning and I had just finished my folio - two stories, three poems (the poems weren't really serious, just me dealing with creativity overload), the culmination of a whole semester of voracious reading, walks to figure out plots, morning pages (ala Julia Cameron), the whole creativity she-bang.

And I loved, simply loved what I wrote. It was my first ever creative high. I cycled back through icy streets to my unheated room and dropped onto the mattress on the floor. I couldn't sleep. Too buzzed. And I would have to be up by seven the next day to get to uni in time to hand up all my various pieces of work. Folio, beautiful folio.

I was up with the birds. Really. I didn't even feel sleepy. I moved slowly through this enchanted space, as if I was moving through warm amniotic fluid, the world dreamlike, magical.

I handed in my folio and got my coursework returned. The highest mark in class. He (my completely adorable red-headed former football player tres hunky tutor) used words like "excellent" and "you write very well" and "again, very good". I was in heaven.

I glided off to have a coffee and a soft warm (Mrs Fields-like) cookie (little did I know that this was the last time I would have this particular cookie, my staple, my mouthful of chocolate joy, as the vendors were moving out).

The high lasted for three days. Never, never, never, never, never (as Lear said about Cordelia coming again) have I ever felt anything close. Not even when I was in love. I decided then that this filled a deep part of me. This writing thing. Who needed men? Or love? Or sex?

Yeah right. Who indeed.

So anyway, I feel a smidgen of that now. Not who needs men (although by the bye, I had my first sort of lesbian dream last night, not that I did anything, even my dreams are censored, but there was this knowing that she was the one...it was lovely) but I feel happy with something I've done, I did it in record time and maybe the client will say, cor blimey Jenn, you always exceed expectations...we want to hire you indefinitely.

And I am OD-ing on Avemano by Era. Mark gave me the CD. I love Mark. I will always love Mark. And the music is beautiful.

Too many things to be happy for, I'd better sign off before I give you cavities or worse, diabetes.

Goodnight my loverlies!