I Must Stop Freaking Myself Out Before Bedtime
So I was chatting to lavinialavender and in the course of the conversation, I said this:
"Although, I won't lie, I am looking forward to playing around with the settings on my recording equipment to see what I can do with the Director's voice. I think I'm just going to refer to him as the Director from now on. I know you said in one of your hiatus posts that you guys always referred to him as such until the reviewers started calling him Jonah, and you said how it kinda makes you feel like he's less terrifiying, but . . . I am so paranoid that I think if I don't show him the proper respect, he's going to come bearing down on me. Like I'll come home one evening, and go into the living room and turn on the lights, and he'll be there, sitting in an armchair, going "It's not a laughing matter, Miss Alaizabel." Like a Bond villian. I even provide the cat."
And I now cannot get the thought out of my head. I am genuinely too panicked by the mental image I have put in my head that I cannot brave the walk of maybe ten foot from the living room to my bedroom.
I am also looking at my cat with suspicion and distrust. She's just lying curled up on a cushion next to me, with nothing but love and food in her little furry brain, but the hatred is still burning strong within me. Traitor! is all I can think. She'd make a rubbish Bond villian cat, though. She's not white for one thing, she's like a really dark tortoise shell with little white paws. Adorable, yes. Intimating, no. And she wouldn't sit still through the whole "I expect you to die, now I shall explain my evil scheme in great detail" speech.
"Although, I won't lie, I am looking forward to playing around with the settings on my recording equipment to see what I can do with the Director's voice. I think I'm just going to refer to him as the Director from now on. I know you said in one of your hiatus posts that you guys always referred to him as such until the reviewers started calling him Jonah, and you said how it kinda makes you feel like he's less terrifiying, but . . . I am so paranoid that I think if I don't show him the proper respect, he's going to come bearing down on me. Like I'll come home one evening, and go into the living room and turn on the lights, and he'll be there, sitting in an armchair, going "It's not a laughing matter, Miss Alaizabel." Like a Bond villian. I even provide the cat."
And I now cannot get the thought out of my head. I am genuinely too panicked by the mental image I have put in my head that I cannot brave the walk of maybe ten foot from the living room to my bedroom.
I am also looking at my cat with suspicion and distrust. She's just lying curled up on a cushion next to me, with nothing but love and food in her little furry brain, but the hatred is still burning strong within me. Traitor! is all I can think. She'd make a rubbish Bond villian cat, though. She's not white for one thing, she's like a really dark tortoise shell with little white paws. Adorable, yes. Intimating, no. And she wouldn't sit still through the whole "I expect you to die, now I shall explain my evil scheme in great detail" speech.