You Probably Don't Remember Me, But...

...I'm still alive, I'm pretty sure!

Bunny is also an ant, lifting
things many times his own mass

So, long time no write, I know – a time of much jobsearching, interviews, unpacking, and D&D. Thankfully, Ike is way better at this 'moving' thing than I, so he's taking it on/putting it off on his own terms.

Whether it has been the soul-destroying enterprise of literally trying to sell myself to poser fatcats, or the stress of interviews, or maybe just a curse of unrest on my mattress, I have felt nothing but weary for weeks now. It’s taken its heaviest toll on my creativity; storywriting, blogging, drawing – usually an irrepressible font of ideas, both good and bad. Now I can barely doodle. I’m tired, guys; weirdly tired. It’s like I don’t have the energy to fountain ideas outwards – I’m only up to taking it in, hunkering at the bottom of a well of nightly escapism in paperbacks, telly and movies. I just can’t reciprocate. 

Grey spot on foot is where I was
stabbed by my own toes

In conjunction with this mental flat-lining and energy lull, I have also started to fall apart a little physically; a filling is missing on one of my teeth – when did THAT happen?? – and I accidentally kicked a Kirby vacuum, which has more in common with a Model T than a Dirt Devil. We think my toe is fractured, but can’t really get it professionally checked out. The dentistry is going to be expensive enough without insurance. Yaargh. Poor sucks. 'Nuff said.

So! Bitching and excuses aside, I am trying to shake off this feeling – we got a CO2 detector put in, and the toxic gasses I was half-sure were suffusing our new home and killing us slowly are simply not present, so this really is just me, and…well…I’m working on it!

1, 2, 3, 4, 5...6! 6 nerds! Ah! Ah! Ah!

On a positive note, I’ve DMed my first one-shot campaign, and am also now the proud momma of 4 little she-mice. We didn’t name them per se, but rather insult them on a case-to-case basis. The little brown one usually has shit-themed slurs, and the white one gets ice-queen allusions, but my Honeybunny called the dominant black one Ladysmith Black Mambazo, which has stuck for some unknowable reason. Lola the Fatass Kitty is more jealous than intrigued by them, although we have set up a chair for her to watch their terrarium, which we call Kitty Television. That scene of pure cute is helping me with my itis, fo' realies.

Aaawwwwwwwww

Apologies and Excuses

Sorry it's been so long...apologies, excuses and updates time!

See? Safe and sound on the peak of Mt. Holyshit

Linlah, I got your package. I'll get to it someday, in a far future where I accomplish all goals and remember all promises. Until then, I'm keeping it prominently displayed so I don't forget.

It sits in the rubble of my personal Utopia - we're moving, and crumbling brown cardboard boxes stack high like city buildings, and (with)hold everything I own. Theoretically. Someday I will know where things are again.

First, I was sick. I coughed so hard I pushed my tampon out. And remember, guys -- if that was disgusting and traumatic to read, at least you didn't have to try living it.

Then it was moving time. Five straight days of hard labor and cleaning. Short tempers, dust, and arguing about what to keep as we downsize to a smaller house, oh my. We seriously scared the poor GCI guy, who didn't know we'd been reduced to serfs of the field and tried to talk to us like we were modern homo sapiens.

We are moved, but not unpacked. And now have to return to work, remembering how to dress professionally, recall what "appropriate" means and try to confrom to it, and pretend we're not living in a canyon of boxes, which I posit is just as savage as living in a box canyon. Subtle but different. Some day soon, blogging will truly resume. Until then...a clipart pic of bugs and dandelions!