Four Rooms
I hope the melodrama of my icon gets across that I'm not actually bad, just flapping my hands and mooning about pretty much everything. Financial crises are taken care of for now and should be okay, so, yeah, I'm good. Here are my problems I'm whining about right now: I have a cold and sneezing is making my back twinge. The rain (and sick) means I can't mow my lawn. People are being stupid on facebook.
So for anyone worried I really am okay. Spring is doing it's thing now that it's finally here, just the long winter plus finances plus injury made it a hard start to the year. I promise, life is pretty good, and the depression is lifting as SAD and situational triggers disappear.
***
Slacking on writing. I'm in a needed exposition chapter except that requires Delilah and Arthur to be talking to each other the whole time and their conversation keeps wandering away from the point. I feel like the person at a middle school debate that has to be all "Okay, kids, back to the topic at hand." Gently, though. Arthur is tiptoeing because Delilah is clearly (and rightly) emotionally unstable and Delilah is Delilah-- plus, yeah, emotionally unstable. So they are having a hard time getting to "Magic! It's real! Here's how it works!" At least not without her asking too many questions and bursting into tears and running off on tangents. He is the worst for this sort of thing anyway. Mysterious Handsome Men are not the ones you want to clearly and honestly answer your questions, they're very dodgy by nature.
***
Dreamed of a forever house (endless in rooms and architecture, never the same from moment to moment) run by faeries, thoroughly haunted, trying to capture the souls of humans passing through-- though if you could make it to the end, you were a true hero. Libraries that spontaneously burst into flame, bedrooms haunted by the ghost of Amanda Palmer (turned into a monster. Tough as hell to fight), forests under glass conservatories, phantom picnics on the lawn that you really want to reach but can't find the way.
***
SNOT EVERYWHERE.
So for anyone worried I really am okay. Spring is doing it's thing now that it's finally here, just the long winter plus finances plus injury made it a hard start to the year. I promise, life is pretty good, and the depression is lifting as SAD and situational triggers disappear.
***
Slacking on writing. I'm in a needed exposition chapter except that requires Delilah and Arthur to be talking to each other the whole time and their conversation keeps wandering away from the point. I feel like the person at a middle school debate that has to be all "Okay, kids, back to the topic at hand." Gently, though. Arthur is tiptoeing because Delilah is clearly (and rightly) emotionally unstable and Delilah is Delilah-- plus, yeah, emotionally unstable. So they are having a hard time getting to "Magic! It's real! Here's how it works!" At least not without her asking too many questions and bursting into tears and running off on tangents. He is the worst for this sort of thing anyway. Mysterious Handsome Men are not the ones you want to clearly and honestly answer your questions, they're very dodgy by nature.
***
Dreamed of a forever house (endless in rooms and architecture, never the same from moment to moment) run by faeries, thoroughly haunted, trying to capture the souls of humans passing through-- though if you could make it to the end, you were a true hero. Libraries that spontaneously burst into flame, bedrooms haunted by the ghost of Amanda Palmer (turned into a monster. Tough as hell to fight), forests under glass conservatories, phantom picnics on the lawn that you really want to reach but can't find the way.
***
SNOT EVERYWHERE.