(no subject)
Everything still hurts. The year started out with losing David Bowie who influenced so, so, so much of my self and my creative world, and it ended with losing Carrie Fisher, who influenced slightly less of my self and my creative world but so, so much of my feminine badassery. And, heh, my blu-ray of The Force Awakens finally arrived. I got it in the very faint hope that I would be able to get her to sign the cover one day.
And then I stress bought almost all the Leia pops I could find because fuck everything including my budget. Or at least, all the ones I could find for a reasonable price, I am not paying fifty bucks for a princess leia or 200-500 for a Slave Leia. Actually I'm not paying for a Slave Leia at all unless she comes with a Jabba corpse.
One of the ways I seem to be coping is by using her voice to get me to do things like exercise or eat or scoop the litter. Last night I went through a but I don't want to do anything I want to lie on the bed and stare at Neko Atsume. Which of course meant my brain coughs up "Okay, but just do four of those kicks you love to do. They make you feel like a ninja." Yes, space mom. "And don't forget to get the cat litter. Especially that one stinky crap your new cat took." Followed by Jingle Bells, Bat-Cat smells. Yes, space mom.
I need to call Mom and cry at her, she encouraged my Star Wars and Star Trek obsessions, she'll know exactly what it means.
I don't know. Other than that I managed to get most of my routines yesterday done. I'm starting to resign myself to not having the office ready to redo until February or March, since it won't be warm enough to open the windows and let the paint dry without the smell. Also Bat Cat's in there right now. We can knock the chair rail off though. Get curtain rods for the windows. Set aside money for the paint. Bit by bit. And I'm getting through a lot of reading and slowly building my energy back up. I'm annoyed with myself that I'm not doing much more in terms of activism or anything like that, but I'm not sure what there is to call my senator about. He is the chair of the Intelligence committee, maybe I can ask him to assure me that he will go after the Cheeto of Hate for the Russia bullshit with everything he's got. I don't know. I'm not sure there's much to do yet until the new regime takes power.
Failing all else, I can continue to make good art. I can at least do that. And share it for cheap or for free if I can. Sometimes, let's be fair most of the time these days, it doesn't feel like enough though. I see all these wonderful people who taught us to be so much, to unapologetically be ourselves. And I know we have to find this elsewhere now, but how on earth can I do that? Ever? Anywhere? At all? Argh.
Also I keep crying at inconvenient times. Mostly while I'm at work with bright-ass makeup on my eyes.
And then I stress bought almost all the Leia pops I could find because fuck everything including my budget. Or at least, all the ones I could find for a reasonable price, I am not paying fifty bucks for a princess leia or 200-500 for a Slave Leia. Actually I'm not paying for a Slave Leia at all unless she comes with a Jabba corpse.
One of the ways I seem to be coping is by using her voice to get me to do things like exercise or eat or scoop the litter. Last night I went through a but I don't want to do anything I want to lie on the bed and stare at Neko Atsume. Which of course meant my brain coughs up "Okay, but just do four of those kicks you love to do. They make you feel like a ninja." Yes, space mom. "And don't forget to get the cat litter. Especially that one stinky crap your new cat took." Followed by Jingle Bells, Bat-Cat smells. Yes, space mom.
I need to call Mom and cry at her, she encouraged my Star Wars and Star Trek obsessions, she'll know exactly what it means.
I don't know. Other than that I managed to get most of my routines yesterday done. I'm starting to resign myself to not having the office ready to redo until February or March, since it won't be warm enough to open the windows and let the paint dry without the smell. Also Bat Cat's in there right now. We can knock the chair rail off though. Get curtain rods for the windows. Set aside money for the paint. Bit by bit. And I'm getting through a lot of reading and slowly building my energy back up. I'm annoyed with myself that I'm not doing much more in terms of activism or anything like that, but I'm not sure what there is to call my senator about. He is the chair of the Intelligence committee, maybe I can ask him to assure me that he will go after the Cheeto of Hate for the Russia bullshit with everything he's got. I don't know. I'm not sure there's much to do yet until the new regime takes power.
Failing all else, I can continue to make good art. I can at least do that. And share it for cheap or for free if I can. Sometimes, let's be fair most of the time these days, it doesn't feel like enough though. I see all these wonderful people who taught us to be so much, to unapologetically be ourselves. And I know we have to find this elsewhere now, but how on earth can I do that? Ever? Anywhere? At all? Argh.
Also I keep crying at inconvenient times. Mostly while I'm at work with bright-ass makeup on my eyes.