crankypants
Basically everything everyone else in the world is saying is pissing me off today, with the exception of maybe (surprisingly?) my co-workers. (Well, one department of co-workers. I'm going to strangle the other department, possibly.) Like. I just...cannot take the world right now. Oh man.
I am a sad panda, too, because I am feeling like I'm an inadequate friend/employee/human being, which isn't helping matters. And makes me want to curl up in a ball somewhere. Today I am wearing pants and my boss was like, "You're wearing pants! Is something wrong?" because we had previous established that this doesn't frequently happen. And I said, "Sometimes when I wake up and start getting dressed, I can't tell if I'm sad or tired?" and she said, "Which was it?" and I said, "Um, both."
Anyway, that is probably the most I've said about my mental health outside of a cut in YEARS. Um, sorry, guys. I just wanted to give you the heads-up that I'm kind of a debbie downer right now. You might want to steer clear. Or write me happy fluffy things where everything is mutants in love and nothing hurts. UP TO YOU.
***
In non-sad news, I am FINALLY reading the latest Skulduggery Pleasant and basically I ship everyone and want fic of everything and just plotted out an XMFC fusion on Twitter that I don't even have to worry about writing because no one would care anyway. MY LIFE IS PRETTY HARD. I really cant' believe more of you aren't reading these damn books, seriously. They're so fucking good.
I'm only fifty some odd pages in (I literally just started it on my commute home) and I already have ~*ALL THE FEELINGS*~ about Val and Skulduggery and CHINA FUCKING SORROWS, EVEN. Oh man. Oh man.
***
I had intended to write tonight, but I will want to write sad things and we're almost out of sad scenes for the big bang and while I'd like to write the story set a little bit in the future where Charles meets Erik's ex and has way too much stuff on his plate and freaks the fuck out, I should probably table it until I finish one of the many other half-started stories in this universe.
So, instead, we're probably going to watch Hoarders all night and maybe I will eat some food and then hide under my blankets with my book until my brain works like a normal human brain again.
(Hoarders drinking game, though, man. It would be EPIC. If we drank for every dead cat we'd get alcohol poisoning within a few episodes.)
I am a sad panda, too, because I am feeling like I'm an inadequate friend/employee/human being, which isn't helping matters. And makes me want to curl up in a ball somewhere. Today I am wearing pants and my boss was like, "You're wearing pants! Is something wrong?" because we had previous established that this doesn't frequently happen. And I said, "Sometimes when I wake up and start getting dressed, I can't tell if I'm sad or tired?" and she said, "Which was it?" and I said, "Um, both."
Anyway, that is probably the most I've said about my mental health outside of a cut in YEARS. Um, sorry, guys. I just wanted to give you the heads-up that I'm kind of a debbie downer right now. You might want to steer clear. Or write me happy fluffy things where everything is mutants in love and nothing hurts. UP TO YOU.
***
In non-sad news, I am FINALLY reading the latest Skulduggery Pleasant and basically I ship everyone and want fic of everything and just plotted out an XMFC fusion on Twitter that I don't even have to worry about writing because no one would care anyway. MY LIFE IS PRETTY HARD. I really cant' believe more of you aren't reading these damn books, seriously. They're so fucking good.
I'm only fifty some odd pages in (I literally just started it on my commute home) and I already have ~*ALL THE FEELINGS*~ about Val and Skulduggery and CHINA FUCKING SORROWS, EVEN. Oh man. Oh man.
***
I had intended to write tonight, but I will want to write sad things and we're almost out of sad scenes for the big bang and while I'd like to write the story set a little bit in the future where Charles meets Erik's ex and has way too much stuff on his plate and freaks the fuck out, I should probably table it until I finish one of the many other half-started stories in this universe.
So, instead, we're probably going to watch Hoarders all night and maybe I will eat some food and then hide under my blankets with my book until my brain works like a normal human brain again.
(Hoarders drinking game, though, man. It would be EPIC. If we drank for every dead cat we'd get alcohol poisoning within a few episodes.)