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bloodsong1I'm slipping again.
I've been going through my archive, trying to organize with tags. Did anyone notice the spiffy set of tags? Huh? Didja? I'm blocking out my stories so ppls can find them. So far I have:
alien dice: Fanfiction ghost story. The copyright holder approved.
mory: Fanfiction "end of series" story. The copyright holder loved it.
sher 1, 2, 3: These are my original works. Sher 1 is First Dance, sher 2 is First Date and sher 3 is First Con. First Love will be tagged as Rae 1, and Candy's and Kenji's story will be tagged as Candy 1, Kenji 1, Candy 2, etc. That one isn't finished, the First series is.
casino: aborted original about a blackjack dealer.
spiderman: one shot crossover
rent boys: Experiment in dialogue, inspired by Sticky Wicket, a webcomic
I'm only about halfway through 2004, which was when I started this whole LJ thing. I wrote a LOT back then! There's Freelance Keep angst, work angst, lots of memes...
My depressed posts are tagged "indigo". The only thing I took from the series "Touched By an Angel" was the name of the club a blues player once owned. I liked the reason why, "Indigo is that shade of the blues that is so bad, it might as well be black. It's the deepest, most profound state of the blues."
I've been fighting the tears for two days straight. Crying will NOT solve a damn thing. It won't get our credit rate fixed, it won't make the banks see reason, it won't guarantee us a place to live. Wolf still believes we can get a house, be it Lawton or Cleveland or anywhere else. I've lost much of that faith. I know it's down there, somewhere, deep in my heart, patiently waiting for a few good signs to bring it back to life. It's been reduced to a seed and wrapped in black cotton and all I can feel now is the heaviness, the sheer weight of it all.
Wolf assures me I'm strong enough, that it's OK to cry, it's perfectly acceptable, female way to deal with the stresses we're under. Bugger that. I may be female, I may actually wear skirts on the weekends so I don't feel like I've wasted money or someone else's charity, I may like sparkly things, but that doesn't mean I need to dissolve into tears every time we hit a hurdle. Hells, I didn't even cry when IdK fell through the Door to Nowhere! People were all impressed at how well I was holding up. Y'wanna know how?
Litany Against Fear.
Those of you who've read Dune know what I'm talking about. It works great when you're waiting for the cops to show up.
I'm not afraid now. I'm worn out. And then I think about my friends, the ones that aren't doing as well as I am; be it financial, or emotional, or relationship-wise, and I wonder how I can be such a selfish bitch.
I know I need to purge. I just don't want to cry. It leaves me more tired and I can't breathe and I get a headache. But I'm not angry enough to go punch a tree, and screaming down by the creek will frighten the neighbors.
BTW, Bu, Squid, the flax is working out better then the silk for spinning. I'm maintaining a fairly even thread now. Making a huge mess on the couch, too.
I've been going through my archive, trying to organize with tags. Did anyone notice the spiffy set of tags? Huh? Didja? I'm blocking out my stories so ppls can find them. So far I have:
alien dice: Fanfiction ghost story. The copyright holder approved.
mory: Fanfiction "end of series" story. The copyright holder loved it.
sher 1, 2, 3: These are my original works. Sher 1 is First Dance, sher 2 is First Date and sher 3 is First Con. First Love will be tagged as Rae 1, and Candy's and Kenji's story will be tagged as Candy 1, Kenji 1, Candy 2, etc. That one isn't finished, the First series is.
casino: aborted original about a blackjack dealer.
spiderman: one shot crossover
rent boys: Experiment in dialogue, inspired by Sticky Wicket, a webcomic
I'm only about halfway through 2004, which was when I started this whole LJ thing. I wrote a LOT back then! There's Freelance Keep angst, work angst, lots of memes...
My depressed posts are tagged "indigo". The only thing I took from the series "Touched By an Angel" was the name of the club a blues player once owned. I liked the reason why, "Indigo is that shade of the blues that is so bad, it might as well be black. It's the deepest, most profound state of the blues."
I've been fighting the tears for two days straight. Crying will NOT solve a damn thing. It won't get our credit rate fixed, it won't make the banks see reason, it won't guarantee us a place to live. Wolf still believes we can get a house, be it Lawton or Cleveland or anywhere else. I've lost much of that faith. I know it's down there, somewhere, deep in my heart, patiently waiting for a few good signs to bring it back to life. It's been reduced to a seed and wrapped in black cotton and all I can feel now is the heaviness, the sheer weight of it all.
Wolf assures me I'm strong enough, that it's OK to cry, it's perfectly acceptable, female way to deal with the stresses we're under. Bugger that. I may be female, I may actually wear skirts on the weekends so I don't feel like I've wasted money or someone else's charity, I may like sparkly things, but that doesn't mean I need to dissolve into tears every time we hit a hurdle. Hells, I didn't even cry when IdK fell through the Door to Nowhere! People were all impressed at how well I was holding up. Y'wanna know how?
Litany Against Fear.
Those of you who've read Dune know what I'm talking about. It works great when you're waiting for the cops to show up.
I'm not afraid now. I'm worn out. And then I think about my friends, the ones that aren't doing as well as I am; be it financial, or emotional, or relationship-wise, and I wonder how I can be such a selfish bitch.
I know I need to purge. I just don't want to cry. It leaves me more tired and I can't breathe and I get a headache. But I'm not angry enough to go punch a tree, and screaming down by the creek will frighten the neighbors.
BTW, Bu, Squid, the flax is working out better then the silk for spinning. I'm maintaining a fairly even thread now. Making a huge mess on the couch, too.
