Weird Tales Year In Review.
It is fuck-that below zero outside. I am sitting in bed with one purring cat on my feet, and another rather smelly cat right next to me, waiting for the pictures to upload for the next Weird Tales Bazaar.
This was a rough issue. The holidays had everyone knocked into a cocked hat, and the new year brings January art shows, so it was rather difficult to get answers back from everyone. It's done, now, though, and once again I can sit back and marvel that I get paid to do something so cool and -- yes, even when it's frustrating -- fun.
Despite how I probably come across, I'm not tremendously vain, nor has overconfidence ever been a problem of mine, so I've fiddled about and fluffed it off and haven't linked to this Weird Tales year in review article. There is a part in there about the Bazaar, and I get mentioned, and despite my acute feelings of "No, really, I do not deserve this!" it still makes my toes curl to know that this is what I do.
I keep thinking I am going to come to in a pool of bodily fluids and discover it was all just a hallucination. But no, I really am going to be a wee little footnote in the history of my favorite magazine. This makes me happy. Not smug, just genuinely happy.
I've been really off balance lately, worried on my own account and worried for friends, not sleeping well, frustrated. I sometimes have to stop and remind myself that, like Schmendrick said, human beings don't always know when they're happy. It is good to take note of these things when they occur to me.
In the middle of everything else that is confusing and sucky and wrong, I am happy about this.
I'm not so happy about the aroma coming from the Fish's posterior, but what can I do? She's really warm.
This was a rough issue. The holidays had everyone knocked into a cocked hat, and the new year brings January art shows, so it was rather difficult to get answers back from everyone. It's done, now, though, and once again I can sit back and marvel that I get paid to do something so cool and -- yes, even when it's frustrating -- fun.
Despite how I probably come across, I'm not tremendously vain, nor has overconfidence ever been a problem of mine, so I've fiddled about and fluffed it off and haven't linked to this Weird Tales year in review article. There is a part in there about the Bazaar, and I get mentioned, and despite my acute feelings of "No, really, I do not deserve this!" it still makes my toes curl to know that this is what I do.
I keep thinking I am going to come to in a pool of bodily fluids and discover it was all just a hallucination. But no, I really am going to be a wee little footnote in the history of my favorite magazine. This makes me happy. Not smug, just genuinely happy.
I've been really off balance lately, worried on my own account and worried for friends, not sleeping well, frustrated. I sometimes have to stop and remind myself that, like Schmendrick said, human beings don't always know when they're happy. It is good to take note of these things when they occur to me.
In the middle of everything else that is confusing and sucky and wrong, I am happy about this.
I'm not so happy about the aroma coming from the Fish's posterior, but what can I do? She's really warm.