"Reality is only good for one thing: getting up and killing it!"
I'm listening to Invisible on my computer. It feels strange to be listening to them while not sitting in the Paradoxe Café, but luckily for me I have a reasonably visual mind and so I can recall a lot of what happened on stage during the gig.
I can hear myself cracking up at the beginning of "Zombie Chicken" on the recording. It's very disconcerting. I'm vaguely amused. I don't think I've laughed that hard in years. I honestly was afraid I was going to stop breathing for a while there. :)
I haven't been around online much lately, and I wish to apologize to my online friends who only communicate with me via LJ and/or Yahoo. I had a rough patch of about three weeks, which wasn't helped by the fact that I don't seem to have any time to myself at all these days. Usually hiding out for a few days allows me to regain an even keel, but there just weren't any days when I didn't have some sort of obligation which prevented me from doing that.
Anyway, life is pretty much good again. There are still a couple of random stressors going on that I don't feel particularly obligated to talk about overmuch. Taxes, other financial crap, good friends being diagnosed with cancer and undergoing chemo, stupid domestic shit that I shouldn't worry about but worry about anyway. Anyway, they range from the trivial to the life-changing, and all in all they make for something of a rocky existence.
However, what is reality good for, if not for getting up and motherfucking killing it? I will always be grateful to t! for reminding me of the scientific impossibility of bumblebees. Bumblebees, by the very design of their bodies, should not be able to fly. Bumblebees, as t! pointed out, have no time for this sort of thinking. Before people jump all over me, I will hasten to add that I am well aware that this belief is a myth. However, the metaphor serves nicely.
So I have been doing my level best to get up and kill. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.
Those of you who follow secret_history will know that I've been working on a number of writing projects lately, and I'm very excited by my progress on this front. After countless years of stupid old writers' block (about eight years' worth, give or take), it's nice to be back in the zone where I can produce anywhere between 1,500 and 5,000 words a day and, you know, actually enjoy doing it. I was able to produce the wordcount before, don't get me wrong: I just didn't want to because I didn't enjoy it and everything that came out of my pen (metaphorical or otherwise) felt like utter crap.
I'm working at fixing the things about my life that are still broken. They are in fact still very, very broken. I've tried to stop throwing pity-parties about it in LJ, because it serves no purpose (for me, please bear in mind that I speak only for myself) to rehash the problems in that way.
That's another reason that I haven't been posting all that much except fiction lately. For one thing, without net access at work, I only get online in the evenings when I get home, which is often quite late due to a number of committments I've taken on. I read my flist, and only if I have the energy afterward do I get around to posting. Energy is something I don't have in vast quantities these days, and I find myself increasingly unwilling to spend it on negative things. So, unless there is something particularly keen I want to write about, more often than not my days go unchronicled.
I think I will make an effort to post at least every two days. I'll try to think of nifty things about my day that I can tell you about without bitching about my job. ;)
I can hear myself cracking up at the beginning of "Zombie Chicken" on the recording. It's very disconcerting. I'm vaguely amused. I don't think I've laughed that hard in years. I honestly was afraid I was going to stop breathing for a while there. :)
I haven't been around online much lately, and I wish to apologize to my online friends who only communicate with me via LJ and/or Yahoo. I had a rough patch of about three weeks, which wasn't helped by the fact that I don't seem to have any time to myself at all these days. Usually hiding out for a few days allows me to regain an even keel, but there just weren't any days when I didn't have some sort of obligation which prevented me from doing that.
Anyway, life is pretty much good again. There are still a couple of random stressors going on that I don't feel particularly obligated to talk about overmuch. Taxes, other financial crap, good friends being diagnosed with cancer and undergoing chemo, stupid domestic shit that I shouldn't worry about but worry about anyway. Anyway, they range from the trivial to the life-changing, and all in all they make for something of a rocky existence.
However, what is reality good for, if not for getting up and motherfucking killing it? I will always be grateful to t! for reminding me of the scientific impossibility of bumblebees. Bumblebees, by the very design of their bodies, should not be able to fly. Bumblebees, as t! pointed out, have no time for this sort of thinking. Before people jump all over me, I will hasten to add that I am well aware that this belief is a myth. However, the metaphor serves nicely.
So I have been doing my level best to get up and kill. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.
Those of you who follow secret_history will know that I've been working on a number of writing projects lately, and I'm very excited by my progress on this front. After countless years of stupid old writers' block (about eight years' worth, give or take), it's nice to be back in the zone where I can produce anywhere between 1,500 and 5,000 words a day and, you know, actually enjoy doing it. I was able to produce the wordcount before, don't get me wrong: I just didn't want to because I didn't enjoy it and everything that came out of my pen (metaphorical or otherwise) felt like utter crap.
I'm working at fixing the things about my life that are still broken. They are in fact still very, very broken. I've tried to stop throwing pity-parties about it in LJ, because it serves no purpose (for me, please bear in mind that I speak only for myself) to rehash the problems in that way.
That's another reason that I haven't been posting all that much except fiction lately. For one thing, without net access at work, I only get online in the evenings when I get home, which is often quite late due to a number of committments I've taken on. I read my flist, and only if I have the energy afterward do I get around to posting. Energy is something I don't have in vast quantities these days, and I find myself increasingly unwilling to spend it on negative things. So, unless there is something particularly keen I want to write about, more often than not my days go unchronicled.
I think I will make an effort to post at least every two days. I'll try to think of nifty things about my day that I can tell you about without bitching about my job. ;)