Oh crap. Started writing this tedious post about my week and how dynamic it's been, and it read like a book report, so I killed it dead and now I'm pretending I'm drunk.

A serious lack of coffee saturation in the morning is sort of like being drunk anyway.

The really best part was getting a call from an animation studio I worked for three years ago. Not the last one. A different one.

Am I dreaming?

I might have been. No coffee yet either. It was an interesting conversation. I had to keep mentally slapping myself alert; forcing myself to sound bright-eyed and work-ready, when in fact my voice had still not dragged itself out of the one octave drop into a gravel pit it always makes when I get up in the morning.

I can't believe how things work. This is the week in which the slow creep of panic really began. Not in earnest, but the edge of the tide made it under the door, and now, rather than thinking about music or girls or flowers and fresh cut grass when I wake up, I think about the expanding knot in my stomach that is directly tied to the lack of work I've got.

This is also the week in which I just got a call from a studio about possible work in January. And it wasn't even THAT studio...you know, the one I've toiled for on and off over the last four years. That is a very good sign. Especially after whining two days before about how our work is starting to disappear overseas.