Dear Brain - STOP IT!
Blargh. I took the night off last night. I needed it, oh so fucking badly you have no idea. None. Well, you read how my Saturday went. You have some idea. But yeah, I took the night off - jump started my car, worked in the kitchen, cleaned my room (mostly), and did FIVE loads of laundry. Oh yeah, that had started to pile up in a big old way.
And then I went to bed early. For me. At 6:30 am. And woke up at 9:22am. Awesome! Cause I am not fucking fucking exhausted or anything. *rolls eyes.* I cannot wait for the next two weeks to be over. I really can't. I'm starting to go mental.
I'm doing shit to counter act it though.
1)I've gotten in touch with my new tattoo guy, Rick, about my guns. I'm going to go over today and see if he's gotten anything figured out. He's got a degree in Graphic Design and everyone in the shop I've shown my base to has been like "Yeah, talk to Rick." So I did and I like him a lot. Big guy, late-30s, early-40s with the requisite tatts and gauged piercings. But he seemed fairly excited to figure out how to make them work. When I know what its going to be, so will you.
2)Bought a plane ticket to San Diego for ComicCon. The last 5 months have been rather spectacularly shitty and I deserve it goddamnit. I do big impuslive moves very well, actually and I have a 4 day pass I bought last year. The problem is I absolutely nowhere to stay. If anyone knows someone going who could use a spare roommate, could you let them know I'm looking? Otherwise, I'm going to, IDK, camp out in line outside of Hall H and try to beg showers off people maybe. *sighs* Fuck it right? If Gerard Way can go 7 days without a shower, I can go 6. Right?
3)I get to spend five days in Atlanta with my mom (she's flying me up so I dont have to make the five hour drive, bless her). This is awesome, btw. I miss my mommy. I know people say this a lot, but my mom actually is my best friend on top of being my parent and being around her every few months is like a spiritual recharge. I NEED it.
And you know, writing. There's always something on the writing front. Two things. One.
b_dsaint made some seriously fucking amazing cover art for You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison and I've had to sit on it for WEEKS but now I can show you guys.
*FLAILS* EXCUSE ME WHILE I FUCKING DIE OKAY? Look at the bars. Look at the bunks. Look at the man, seated with his head hanging in something maybe like defeat. And holy shit you guys? LOOK AT RYAN ROSS. He is exactly like I wrote him - shielding himself with make-up right down to his too-red lips which she made brighter and redder than in the original picture to give the appearance of lipstick. Ugh, my heart, you guys, okay? My. Fucking. HEART. Seriously. I adore this and you should all talk about how fucking awesome she is.
And okay, two. WRITING BONDAGE PETE IS LIKE PULLING MOTHERFUCKING TEETH. NO! HARDER! BECAUSE MY DAD IS A DENTIST AND GETTING TEETH PULLED IS CAKE FOR ME! Argh, seriously, each word is like...ripped out of me by fucking force. I cleaned my room to help me unstick. It did a TINY bit of good. Not as much as I wish it had but I think, maybe, I have a plan. Which is good cause I only have ten days to finish this fucker. Excuse me. I'll be over here, having a FUCKING PANIC ATTACK. Don't mind me. Also, if this comes in under 60K, it'll be a MIRACLE. I seriously didnt know my porn bunnies were that...fertile.
I Know This Hurts (It Was Meant To)
50792 / 50000 words. 102% done!
And then I went to bed early. For me. At 6:30 am. And woke up at 9:22am. Awesome! Cause I am not fucking fucking exhausted or anything. *rolls eyes.* I cannot wait for the next two weeks to be over. I really can't. I'm starting to go mental.
I'm doing shit to counter act it though.
1)I've gotten in touch with my new tattoo guy, Rick, about my guns. I'm going to go over today and see if he's gotten anything figured out. He's got a degree in Graphic Design and everyone in the shop I've shown my base to has been like "Yeah, talk to Rick." So I did and I like him a lot. Big guy, late-30s, early-40s with the requisite tatts and gauged piercings. But he seemed fairly excited to figure out how to make them work. When I know what its going to be, so will you.
2)Bought a plane ticket to San Diego for ComicCon. The last 5 months have been rather spectacularly shitty and I deserve it goddamnit. I do big impuslive moves very well, actually and I have a 4 day pass I bought last year. The problem is I absolutely nowhere to stay. If anyone knows someone going who could use a spare roommate, could you let them know I'm looking? Otherwise, I'm going to, IDK, camp out in line outside of Hall H and try to beg showers off people maybe. *sighs* Fuck it right? If Gerard Way can go 7 days without a shower, I can go 6. Right?
3)I get to spend five days in Atlanta with my mom (she's flying me up so I dont have to make the five hour drive, bless her). This is awesome, btw. I miss my mommy. I know people say this a lot, but my mom actually is my best friend on top of being my parent and being around her every few months is like a spiritual recharge. I NEED it.
And you know, writing. There's always something on the writing front. Two things. One.
b_dsaint made some seriously fucking amazing cover art for You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison and I've had to sit on it for WEEKS but now I can show you guys.
*FLAILS* EXCUSE ME WHILE I FUCKING DIE OKAY? Look at the bars. Look at the bunks. Look at the man, seated with his head hanging in something maybe like defeat. And holy shit you guys? LOOK AT RYAN ROSS. He is exactly like I wrote him - shielding himself with make-up right down to his too-red lips which she made brighter and redder than in the original picture to give the appearance of lipstick. Ugh, my heart, you guys, okay? My. Fucking. HEART. Seriously. I adore this and you should all talk about how fucking awesome she is.
And okay, two. WRITING BONDAGE PETE IS LIKE PULLING MOTHERFUCKING TEETH. NO! HARDER! BECAUSE MY DAD IS A DENTIST AND GETTING TEETH PULLED IS CAKE FOR ME! Argh, seriously, each word is like...ripped out of me by fucking force. I cleaned my room to help me unstick. It did a TINY bit of good. Not as much as I wish it had but I think, maybe, I have a plan. Which is good cause I only have ten days to finish this fucker. Excuse me. I'll be over here, having a FUCKING PANIC ATTACK. Don't mind me. Also, if this comes in under 60K, it'll be a MIRACLE. I seriously didnt know my porn bunnies were that...fertile.
I Know This Hurts (It Was Meant To)
50792 / 50000 words. 102% done!