As an early birthday present, I received a new digital camera. It's small, lightweight, has an image stabilizer, and is much faster than my old camera. For those of you who are aware of my... issues... with my old camera, this is ridiculously exciting. I am very happy.
I'm writing. I like writing. It makes me happy. On the other hand, most of what I've done today has been an information dump. It's useful, but it's just not going to fly in a story. As the old adage goes: show, don't tell -- unless you know when to shut up. On a related topic, I'm currently writing a short story (unconnected to today's information dump) titled "Mr. Android." A shiny new penny to whoever guesses the correct genre.
I find it interesting that many of my better stories result from dreams. My NaNoWriMo novel from 2004 started as a dream (and consequently turned into shit, since I overplotted like a motherfucker). Another novel I've outlined god knows how many times has its roots in a dream I had back in 2006. Just last week I had a dream that I'm ever-so-slowly writing.