And there is movement...

I have so many things going on, so many fingers in so many pies. My life would make a terrible reality show, due to the sheer number of THINGS I HAVE TO DO ALL THE TIME. My internal thought processes, on the other hand, those I could write a book or two about (which I may just do someday).

I am still writing madly, everything from exposition and articles, to children's stories in verse, to my 3 ongoing novels, to...well, a handbook on love. Why am I writing a self-help book, especially on love? Excellent question. It's the coolest thing I've ever written, and you'll just have to wait to read it to find out why.
Ok, 1 hint: I have figured out the component parts to "being in love" and thus have solved every romantic problem imagineable. (Slight hyperbole is still cute, right?)

Otherwise, writing life progresses. I am learning from mourning, learning from pain, learning from the people in my life who do and think and say miserable things. I am learning to hide cruel and callous people from my own life in pages of my books, thereby rendering them powerless.

I am learning. I am doing. I am living. I am creating.

What else is there?

:)