readin' 'ritin' and avoiding the hell outta math
I read DEADLINE by Mira Grant this weekend. It was apocolyptastic. Last year I read FEED at home and for various spoilerific reasons was freaked out by horses on neighboring ranches, this year it was the deer in the alfalfa fields. If you like a good action/adventure with a side order of social commentary and zombies, get your ass to a bookstore and get Feed and Deadline. Then block out several days to read because you WILL NOT put these books down until you have read them all the way to the end. Is it next year yet? I want BLACKOUT now, RIGHT FRELLING NOW, I cannot wait a whole year for the end of the trilogy!!! I CAN'T!!!
I have failed in ways that are epic and failtastic to make any kind of headway on my wordcount for the year. I am not bailing on the wordcount or on writing in general, just so very far behind that I will not be surpassing last year's total as I had wanted to do. This year has sucked so far and I am really ready for it to be done.
Math Sux. Thank you Jimmy Buffett.
Most of my days are constructed so that I feel pretty ok, but the last few weeks have been hell and I know that it is just that I am tired and that makes it hard to ignore the pain levels from various things. Good news, I am using my Burdock again and the psoriasis is starting to slowly clear, that is making me happy. Unfortunately, nothing else is improving. The weather is getting warm and that usually makes the arthritis, both psoriatic and osteo, feel a little less painful, but not this Summer, oh hell no. Dammit. So I need to fucking sleep more. Or at all. Really. Added bonus, my stomach hurts all the fucking time and this is a new and exciting symptom of I don't even know what. And today my voice was trying to fail entirely, another not sleeping issue, really. Oh yay. I wish I were a hypochondriac so that all this shit was imaginary. Instead I like to think I am a hyperchondriac, I have a boatload of shit wrong but I ignore it and pretend it's not there. This has a limited success rate. Dammit.
Here, let's have more shit that makes me happy:
Ah, yes. That's the ticket. Elvis. My Boys. Slashtasticness. So many of my favourite moments in one video. Happy is Me.
I have failed in ways that are epic and failtastic to make any kind of headway on my wordcount for the year. I am not bailing on the wordcount or on writing in general, just so very far behind that I will not be surpassing last year's total as I had wanted to do. This year has sucked so far and I am really ready for it to be done.
Math Sux. Thank you Jimmy Buffett.
Click to viewMost of my days are constructed so that I feel pretty ok, but the last few weeks have been hell and I know that it is just that I am tired and that makes it hard to ignore the pain levels from various things. Good news, I am using my Burdock again and the psoriasis is starting to slowly clear, that is making me happy. Unfortunately, nothing else is improving. The weather is getting warm and that usually makes the arthritis, both psoriatic and osteo, feel a little less painful, but not this Summer, oh hell no. Dammit. So I need to fucking sleep more. Or at all. Really. Added bonus, my stomach hurts all the fucking time and this is a new and exciting symptom of I don't even know what. And today my voice was trying to fail entirely, another not sleeping issue, really. Oh yay. I wish I were a hypochondriac so that all this shit was imaginary. Instead I like to think I am a hyperchondriac, I have a boatload of shit wrong but I ignore it and pretend it's not there. This has a limited success rate. Dammit.
Here, let's have more shit that makes me happy:
Ah, yes. That's the ticket. Elvis. My Boys. Slashtasticness. So many of my favourite moments in one video. Happy is Me.