I thought it was about time to write something here, since I really haven't made an entry worth blinking at since March. This one probably won't be worth any vigorous eyelid movements either, but what the hey.
Let's see. Bad stuff first. Work is crappy, just like usual. There's lots of emotional roller-coaster drama and not nearly enough money. It probably seems harder because the fair season starts next month, and that makes freedom look awfully attractive compared to my whining grandmother. It's just that time of year, I guess. Spring, itchy feet, sap rising...homelessness.... Gypsy, what?
We'll be missing almost all of the fairs this year. That isn't such a big deal for me; I'm happy with the dreams in my head no matter what what our lifestyle is like, but I feel really bad for Larry and the kiddo. Larry's not a bad house husband, don't get me wrong. Still. Organizing home is my forte, not his, and he's wasting his potential being tied to the house away from people. And oh boy, the kiddo needs friends the way my houseplants need water. There are no kids for him here. None. Every time we go to the park, he has to make friends all over again. Sometimes I think I was mad to think we could live in a stable place like normal people. We're not normal at all.
What else...I have a few fandom-type things going on online. These days I'm playing a Wraeththu rp game with an original character. Shadow is all new and shiny, and he says things like, "Fuck conformity," and "Oh good, I'd hate to think you'd let just anybody cut your throat," as easily as I would say, "Please pass the butter," so that's fun. Also, I started playing Aredhel at Dreaming Spires again. I love that game even though the format isn't good for my poor psyche. I tend to edit obsessively when the roleplaying isn't done via IM, since I actually have a choice about when to hit the reply button. Oh well, I suppose all that heavy editing is good for my writing skills.
Here's a secret: after re-reading my posts over there, I've decided that I actually know how to write. It's not as good as I want it to be, but it isn't awful. I can really do it if I try hard enough. For real...um. I think.
Speaking of writing, I'm doing it again. Constantly, relentlessly writing, that's what I'm doing--both inside of fandom and out of it. I don't know why I do this to myself, not really. Trying to write something besides the usual rp and journal stuff always makes me feel like I'm hovering on the edge of a nervous breakdown. I want to write, oh, with the same results as giving birth...a miracle come from love and dreams, through pain and fear, striving at the very edge of my endurance. Pretty silly, huh? Yeah. I've got the drama queen part down pat, all right. Now all I need is the miracle.
*sigh* I meant this post to be cheerful. Oooh, I know. I read some really awesome books this month. Cassie Clare's latest book didn't suck. Finder by Emma Bull made me fall in love with Bordertown all over again, even if it did make me weep. Elsewhere by Will Shetterly is quite possibly the best book I've read all year. I'm such a sucker for troubled adolescent boys. And speaking of troubled adolescent boys...I swear, every time I re-read Swordspoint I discover something new. This time I obsessed about Michael Godwin in between squeeing over the parts I'd forgotten about Alec; there's all sorts of interesting things going on there that I'd never noticed before. Ellen Kushner is a genius.
And that is all.