Perfectly Imperfect

Things have been kind of shitty lately. Like, seriously shitty. It seems like I bottle things up the most when they're really bad. I'm not looking for sympathy or for anyone to talk to. I just want to toss it out there that things aren't going well for me right now, so don't be surprised if I'm only on here sporadically for a while.

In the meantime, I have a plan. Well, for the night at least.

1. Eat my bowl of ice cream.
2. Polish off this second bottle of wine.
3. Curl up and cry a little.
4. Remind myself that life doesn't stop, no matter how much you'd like to take a vacation from reality.
5. Answer comments that I've been ignoring.
6. Write something for TWYL that isn't such crap that it makes me want to slit my wrists.

So sleepy. Promise I'll respond to comments on the last part of Hot Like Mexico later, but I doubt they'd be coherent right how. Lalala.

1. I had a great idea for an original short story about a couple caught in a horrible, codependent, abusive relationship but refusing to admit it's unhealthy or that anything's wrong because they're 'in love'. Very high tension, lots of explosive sequences, sociopathic tendencies, general feelings of unease and borderline squickiness. Then I realized that Stephenie Meyer stole my idea and lamed it up with glittery vampires and emo kids, so that put an end to that. Sad day.

2. I think I would flip out with happiness if I ever found out that people were reccing my fics. Seriously, there would probably be major flailing and high pitched noises going on. Liking something so much that you actively want other people to read it is just about the highest compliment I can think of.

3. I need to start sleeping more than a handful of hours a night.

4. Had my Sociology of Gender class tonight. Ended up talking about sexism in Star Trek(why all the tight and short?), how much T'Pau kicked ass, and our general adoration of Leonard Nimoy with my presentation group. We also had a loud, indignant conversation about the fact that most of the world's bras are designed by men. What the fuck is up with that? Also, picture of Leonard Nimoy as a hot young thing.

So busy. Seriously. Sooo busy. Paper last week, midterm today, group project on Thursday, and another paper next week. And then I get to do finals! YAY! Not to mention that my sister's in town for the week and it's my mom's birthday on Friday. When's a girl supposed to find the time to sit down and write some good old fashioned man love? I keep staring longingly at my word processor, wishing I could just sit down and write, but I know that if I really started writing the next chapter of Odd Fish, I'd probably ignore everything else to compulsively work on it until it was finished. Sad day, darlings.

I know what will make us all feel better. Bubbles. 'Cause y'all know how I feel about bubbles.

I do not have time to sit down and write ten thousand fics just because you've suddenly decided that you want to be creative again! The popsicles? They'll have to wait. David/Elle? Will have to wait. Derek's hetero freakout complete with wibbly Spencer? Will have to fucking wait!

Gah, brain. I hate you so hard right now.