Feeling very dissociated. I go work at the craziness, come home and fall down, and then I'm up at 3am when there's no one to talk to. If I could stay up a bit longer I could have more time with Zack, which would be good. And then I might sleep 'til 5:30am, which would also be good.
Okay, so some free-form fantasizing, to be presented as raw material, discussed and added to, discussed further with my sons and anyone else who wants to buy in, and then turned into a Dream, to be Planned about. The Plans will then be executed, along with any additions or edits that have crept in along the way, and we build a Reality from them.
Fantasy #1, I do well at my job. I get it organized, the bosslady gets out of the office and goes after more business, and the business gets bigger and takes off.
Fantasy #2: I get started doing research and going to grad school, studying the psychology of Asperger's Syndrome, writing the User's GUide to Aspergers for O'Reilly, and studying families and dominance.
Fantasy #3: I start doing actual *writing* on the ficton factory, and it starts selling.
Fantasy #4: I develop around me a big happy poly clan consisting of several heavily-interrelated families. I'll post about the structure of that later, if anybody noodges. If we get to build the Wonderful Big House that's nice too, but optional. Two floors of an apartment building in Co-Op City would work just as well.
Fantasy #5: My sons do well in their respective artistic careers, have happy and busy lives with lots of friends, and I interact with each of them on both a personal and a professional level.
Fantasy #6: My sons develop their own families, and I become a mulitple father-in-law and grandpa.
Fantasy #7 has something to do with kinky activity, but other than I want it to exist I haven't gotten further than that yet.
Fantasy #8: My household becomes a center of social activity for fen, gamers, musicians, political activists, filkers, and several other groups I haven't met or thought of yet.
Fantasy #9: The PolyMars ficton has turned into a project rather than a fiction, and I have a web of people doing research with me on how to make it work.
Fantasy #10: I develop a side-business working with my brother.
Fantasy #11: I get rich enough to buy a sousaphone and find or create a Dixieland band to play in. This will probably require learning to tolerate pot a lot better than I do now; I don't know of any good N'awlins bands that perform while straight.
Anybody got any other fantasies they'd like to toss in the pile? Realism not at all required, nor is internal or other consistency; if you'd like to fantasize coming up with a way to turn me into a puddle of sentient goo so you can put me in your pipe and blow bubbles with me, fantasize away. I *will* ask what's in it for me, though.
Joel. Who'll knit all that into a self-supporting structure, shortly.