I am developing a disturbing habit... (aka: The Voice from the Great Beyond Speaks)
... of writing long, ranty posts and then deleting them without, you know, posting, because the writing was already cathartic enough and the steam's all used up.
And then I sit there, staring at the blank screen, trying to come up with something else to say and don't know what to pick because, oh my god, my life u gaiz, it's insane.
Like, there's the fifty plus hours of work I put in every week and the adventures in Christmas baking I am having with my new oven and the Wishlist writing and my experiments in human sleeping patterns (also known as: How little sleep does the average twenty-five-year-old need in order to function on a high enough level to not slaughter children for fun?).
There's the whole Christmas present thing that's a huge mess and there's my crafting, which is happening, even though I usually have no conscious memory of having any time to waste on it.
Nineteen more days of work and it's Christmas hols.
Four more days of work and the Wishlist takes off.
Two more days of work and I'm baking with a friend.
One more day of work and it's Tuesday afternoon. Huh.
See, my brain does things like that all the time. It's weird. Like, this morning, at five thirty, I suddenly shot upright in bed (with half an hour of sleep left, please note that) and remembered that I still had to print and look over a test for Wednesday. Bam. Night over.
I vaguely remember the days when I was sure teachers made up tests just to fuck with us. Let me tell you, it ain't so. That test-making business is actually shit hard work if you don't want to grade yourself into an early grave.
I... think there was a point to this.
Right. I don't post anything anymore because I start writing posts and then run out of steam. So it kinda looks like I'm MIA all the time, but I'm actually not. I'm just tired a lot and discovering the wonders of passive entertainment.
But I'm happy with the busy life, most of the time, so I guess that's something.
And tomorrow, come hell or extra work, I will finish prepping the Wishlist for business. Swear!
(Also: Immortal James Bond. Can someone please write that?)
And then I sit there, staring at the blank screen, trying to come up with something else to say and don't know what to pick because, oh my god, my life u gaiz, it's insane.
Like, there's the fifty plus hours of work I put in every week and the adventures in Christmas baking I am having with my new oven and the Wishlist writing and my experiments in human sleeping patterns (also known as: How little sleep does the average twenty-five-year-old need in order to function on a high enough level to not slaughter children for fun?).
There's the whole Christmas present thing that's a huge mess and there's my crafting, which is happening, even though I usually have no conscious memory of having any time to waste on it.
Nineteen more days of work and it's Christmas hols.
Four more days of work and the Wishlist takes off.
Two more days of work and I'm baking with a friend.
One more day of work and it's Tuesday afternoon. Huh.
See, my brain does things like that all the time. It's weird. Like, this morning, at five thirty, I suddenly shot upright in bed (with half an hour of sleep left, please note that) and remembered that I still had to print and look over a test for Wednesday. Bam. Night over.
I vaguely remember the days when I was sure teachers made up tests just to fuck with us. Let me tell you, it ain't so. That test-making business is actually shit hard work if you don't want to grade yourself into an early grave.
I... think there was a point to this.
Right. I don't post anything anymore because I start writing posts and then run out of steam. So it kinda looks like I'm MIA all the time, but I'm actually not. I'm just tired a lot and discovering the wonders of passive entertainment.
But I'm happy with the busy life, most of the time, so I guess that's something.
And tomorrow, come hell or extra work, I will finish prepping the Wishlist for business. Swear!
(Also: Immortal James Bond. Can someone please write that?)