Meager attempt to create a semblance of a ghost of a schedule has begun. Unexpected side effect of scheduling a life is the feeling that I'm running out of time. Time for what? For reading Moby Dick on Youtube, of course. For the people. Something to leave behind, for the people in that Venn diagram of miss the sound of my voice, and haven't read Moby Dick.
One of my co-workers, Jessica, is creating a musical about intermittent urological catheters. She asked me to write a section of lyrics. I did, and it was difficult. The music is from The Little Mermaid's Part of Your World.
I see now why they have people who just do lyrics. It's hard. Maintaining rhythm, internal rhyme structures, phrasing; it's tough. Like writing a poem on the back of a salmon leaping up a waterfall to spawn.