2001-06-15 - 12:54 p.m.

Continuing my essay has really sort of prevented me from updating the diary with regular entries, which is something i really hadn't forseen. Or rather, I hadn't really forseen it being a problem. I'm not really in the habit of keeping a regular diary in addition to my writing, but now that I've started, I'm hooked. And I'm glad, I've always been told I should keep a journal of some sort, but if there's anything I'm bad at, it's taking advice, particularly of the academic, "do this for your own intellectal good" variety.

On the other hand, my rather elongated (but frequently posted) version of the bat story is prompting a lot of IMs asking about whether or not it's still in my apartment, etc., etc. So my use of the Jennoirs as both a diary and a way to save my work online is turning into a sort of botched excercise of having my cake and eating it too. Sigh.

So, to anyone who could possbly care what I'm doing today: I'm doing nothing. Work is boring as hell. And I should be doing actual (writing) work. (Note: the sooner I start considering writing to be my real profession, the sooner I will realize I'm not earning money at my job, and the sooner, hopefully, I will get off my damn ass and get some work done.)

Now, to get on to the next installment:

Safely surrounded by dated fixtures and my claw-footed tub, I tried to approach the subject with a clear head. Okay. There was a bat in the apartment, no big deal. Bats got into people's homes all the time, and it was no big deal. Of course, many of them made it a big deal, as I found out, hearing stories on baseball bleachers from my mother's friends and co-workers. Many had screamed and panicked and absolutely failed to realize that though their uninvited visitors were not attractive creatures, they were easy enough to get rid of. I tried not to hate people like this. After all, they were ignorant in the ways of luring bats outside. I was one of the privilidged few who had been told the secret of bat removal. Many years ago, my Girl Scout leader, a woman of level head and infinite gumption instructed me on how to shoo the dark beasts away: open two windows that face eachother to allow for a flow of air that spans the room. Wait for the bat to simply feel the air and and make a speedy and graceful exit.

What I'm wearing:

What I'm reading:

What I'm doing after this: