What Have I Been Doing?
As some of you may have noticed, I've been pretty quiet of late - not posting much, not saying a whole lot, etc. Which leads to the question: what have I been doing?
Honestly? Not much.
To my general disgust, it seems my break-up with my Muse seems to have driven off any would-be replacements. These days, when I try to put words together to form coherent sentences, they generally come out with a lot of suckage. It doesn't help that all of my former inspirations - Star Wars, Star Trek: Enterprise, NCIS - now pretty much leave me feeling blah (or actively angry, depending on my mood at the time.) I haven't read anything resembling fanfic in like a month at the very least. Doesn't matter how awesome the author is, the subject matter just leaves ... uninspired. Even new TV shows seem to leave me cold: I pretty much walked away from Falling Skies after the second or third episode because it was so utterly predictable and boring although I am keeping up with Alphas on SyFy ... not because of the Show Babe (the chick with the Jedi Mind Trick who played Dr. Manhattan's 1st girlfriend in the Watchmen movie), though. Interestingly enough, I find the other woman, the Middle Eastern chick, to be the real hottie of that (sadly predictable) show.
So instead, I've started re-watching Supernatural from the beginning. Into season 2 and, for a bunch of badasses, Dean and Sam sure cry a lot. I've also started catching back up on the amazing Invincible comic series - man, Kirkman knows how to tell a story.
Work has also been utterly insane, although I've grown accustomed to that and have finally settled into a rhythm, so that's a big positive.
But apart from that, I've done a big fat nothing. I fear that my writing days may be behind me unless I can find something to really inspire me - and yes, I have considered the fact that I might be dealing with low-level depression and this rut I'm in might be chemical-based, but thanks to the jackholes in D.C., the economy has been shot to hell so I can't begin to afford going to a doctor. Plus? I'm a guy and even if we've got a sucking chest wound, we tend to put off medical visits. *shrug*
Anyway, figured I should at least chime in and say something that might explain my general silence. Let's call it part of the grieving process as I enter the Acceptance stage over the death of my love affair with NCIS. Yeah. That's the ticket.
Honestly? Not much.
To my general disgust, it seems my break-up with my Muse seems to have driven off any would-be replacements. These days, when I try to put words together to form coherent sentences, they generally come out with a lot of suckage. It doesn't help that all of my former inspirations - Star Wars, Star Trek: Enterprise, NCIS - now pretty much leave me feeling blah (or actively angry, depending on my mood at the time.) I haven't read anything resembling fanfic in like a month at the very least. Doesn't matter how awesome the author is, the subject matter just leaves ... uninspired. Even new TV shows seem to leave me cold: I pretty much walked away from Falling Skies after the second or third episode because it was so utterly predictable and boring although I am keeping up with Alphas on SyFy ... not because of the Show Babe (the chick with the Jedi Mind Trick who played Dr. Manhattan's 1st girlfriend in the Watchmen movie), though. Interestingly enough, I find the other woman, the Middle Eastern chick, to be the real hottie of that (sadly predictable) show.
So instead, I've started re-watching Supernatural from the beginning. Into season 2 and, for a bunch of badasses, Dean and Sam sure cry a lot. I've also started catching back up on the amazing Invincible comic series - man, Kirkman knows how to tell a story.
Work has also been utterly insane, although I've grown accustomed to that and have finally settled into a rhythm, so that's a big positive.
But apart from that, I've done a big fat nothing. I fear that my writing days may be behind me unless I can find something to really inspire me - and yes, I have considered the fact that I might be dealing with low-level depression and this rut I'm in might be chemical-based, but thanks to the jackholes in D.C., the economy has been shot to hell so I can't begin to afford going to a doctor. Plus? I'm a guy and even if we've got a sucking chest wound, we tend to put off medical visits. *shrug*
Anyway, figured I should at least chime in and say something that might explain my general silence. Let's call it part of the grieving process as I enter the Acceptance stage over the death of my love affair with NCIS. Yeah. That's the ticket.