Memorial Weekend was Memorable

🙂

 

5-day camping trip.  Rain. Mud. ALL THE LAUNDRY.

Oh, and a war wound. Because it wouldn’t be me unless I bash the fuck out of my knee/leg/foot.  No worries, it doesn’t hurt much. It’s just ugly as homemade sin.

Image

 

 

ETA:   And lest someone gets the wrong idea, I had a FANTASTIC Memorial Day weekend. I’m just amused at my ability to cause damage to the chassis.

Insomnia, You Treacherous Bitch

“The night is the hardest time to be alive and 4am knows all my secrets.” 

-Poppy Z. Brite

 

 

What do we want?

COFFEE.

 

When do we want it?

 

 COFFEE.

 

This may be the only time wherein I am grateful that I am not yet working a regular job. Because no way would I, in any sort of fashion, be productive at all.

Or even just, yanno, not drooling on myself at my desk.

 

The last time I looked at the clock before I started the (seemingly) four hour hypnagogic state – where I thought I was awake but honestly was asleep – it was three-something.

And in case that run on sentence doesn’t clue you in, I am way tired and loopy today. Also, I think my coffee needs an espresso shot. Didn’t I order the large?

Oh, My

You guys?  I think I may have just had a cleaningasm.  *waves hands frantically in front of face*  Woo.

 

A little back story so that you will fully grok my excitement. My cat, Xamot, has allergies. And the allergies have been spectacularly grotesque this year. Cat snot runners. EVERYWHERE.

:::JIBBLIES:::

Anywho. One of my closest friends, upon hearing my plight, lent me his carpet cleaner. Ladies and gents, this thing cleans everything. EVERYthing?  EVERYTHING.  My couch no longer resembles the scene of an alien homicide. My floors are clean. I may do my tile in the kitchen, next.1

In the words of the great Mister Smith, “I have GOT to get me one of these!

 

 

 

1– L, if you are reading this, no worries. I will replace all the cleaning juice that I use.

A Reminder

Looking for a job?
Is hard. It is work, and it takes a lot out of a person.

I have to imagine that it is different for young college grads. But, if you are like me – a non-traditional student coming out with her undergrad degree at the ripe “old” age of 44? It can be a bit intimidating.

Especially if you haven’t worked since you started your college career.

I know I will find a job, and a good one. I am too good at what I do not to.
But the winnowing process – both on my part, as well as the potential employers’ – will be difficult.

I just have to buck up. 
We’ll beat that slope. Together.  ;D

New Paradigm is Hard

Even just a measly hundred words a day is hard. Especially after so long a silence. I wish I could say it was all navel gazing and introspection, but the truth is more benign and insidious than that.

Writing – even slapdash blog writing – is hard. Especially if you have any sort of anxiety. what if it’s wrong?  what if its stupid? what if, what if, what if????? 

You get comfortable in silence. You get complacent.

Except for that small, quiet, writery part in the back of your brain.

WHY AREN’T YOU WRITING?

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG?

OMG, DID YOU SEE THAT? WE SHOULD TOTES WRITE ABOUT THAT!!!!

 

What all those exclamation points and intentions are missing is the aftermath. Writer Brain cares *snap, double snap, triple snap with SFFFT WHATEVS BABE* about aftermath.  It is all about writing it down.
Anxiety Brain? Cares a lot. A LOT.
what if i piss someone of?
what if I do something wrong?
is this even good, anyhow? who’d read THIS garbage?

 

Dear Anxiety Brain,

 

Um. I mean no offense. But?  Could you? I mean, maybe for just a bit?
Just…um…FUCK OFF FOR A WHILE?

’cause that’d be awesome, yeah.

 

Alllllll the love
<none really>
~The Mgmt

 

 

PS

I’m trying. Bear with me?

Title, Optional

*taps mic gently*

 

~FEEDBACK WHINE~

 

*wince*

Oh, er.
Um. Hi.  As you may – or not, as the case may be – have noticed, I haven’t written on this thing for a long while. There are a plethora of reasons, but mostly it has just been a distinct lack of energy.

I am working things, again.
Anxiety, depression, losing the writing Zen, and not letting everyday life overwhelm me to the point of hermitdom (of a variety of forms).
Anywho, as part of my author-Zen reclamation, I am going to attempt to write on here, every day.
Not huge amounts. Just…a bit. A hundred words a day for a bit. Then two hundred. And so, and so forth. I’m not promising that I will always make a post, at such and thus time, every day.
But, I do promise to make the attempt.