Thursday, October 29, 2009


I appear to be in a big "what's the point of it all" phase. Really would have thought I'd have grown out of that by now, but no. Seems growing out of things is all a big lie.

So, yeah, I know - "the little things". I'm trying to enjoy or at least do things and keep myself busy in the hope the black dog gets bored and wanders off but it doesn't seem to last and with the ongoing imagination failure I've been having too it's been getting harder and harder to think of new distractions. With my SO being stressed and similarly struggling to keep hir head above water, and this week being half term and thus having a six-year-old to entertain, somehow, I've pretty much failed to keep up the pretence of being ok. Or, at least, am in the process of failing.

Hence this blog post is here to serve simply as an apology: should I inflict my miserable self-pitying wailing on you IRL or via Twitter, I'm sorry. Hopefully it's just a blip and I'll certainly feel ashamed of myself later.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009


In meaning, if not time and space.

Still working on that "more about my work" post. Pictures being a problem. I'm terrible at pictures. Even ones with just straight lines in them. It's this computer malarky - I'm just not that great with technology. Doors for example. Doors give me great trouble, especially car doors.....

I digress.

Lost. Yeah, I still feel fairly lost. Within spitting distance of actually submitting, which isn't quite the end of it but is a huge hurdle. Still no idea what I'm going to do for the rest of my life. Being a housewife hardly suits me, I'm rubbish at it. I've tried very hard to do housework properly but I mostly end up giving in and just doing the bare minimum to get by. Too lazy. And I get so bored and lonely. I suppose there's people I could talk to via internets but most of them are busy, and the ones who aren't I don't know that well and wouldn't know what to say. Not that I know what to say to the people I know well either mind. I'm pretty rubbish at small talk that isn't just surreal rambling. Fortunately, some people like that. Or they're just being very polite.

Was there a point to all this? Probably not. I just felt the need to write something to distract from my failure to write what I intended to. Inside I'm just a bundle of emotional turmoil and slowly coming to the conclusion that I'm not reacting the way I expected to because, shock, horror, I might actually be growing up. Or possibly I just don't care anymore. Which may or may not be the same thing. Either way, I'm not sure it's a good thing.

I hope that doesn't make any sense. I probably need to be more subtle in future. not much has actually been happening lately and I'm sorry for wasting your time with this no-content post. Assuming you've actually read all this. If you skipped to the end, don't bother going back and starting from the beginning, m'kay?

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Reading, links and stuff

Ok, let's try. Been a long time, still not up to composing post on my work, so a bit more of a random update. Chuck Wendig refers to this as "painting with shotguns". My attempt is probably even less coherent than that.

First, life update. Very very nearly finished thesis. Should probably send latest draft to supervisor to have him go over it again. Kind of scared by how close I am. Have mostly been filling my days doing little bits of housework and trying not to cry. Yes, the depression is still there. Not quite worked up to going back to GP - not really sure what to ask him to try next. Not sure whether situation now is better, worse or the same as when I was on meds. Something to mull over before deciding how best to manage this illness.

The Terror is nearly six and we've mostly organised his birthday party. Go us. Need to chase up a few people to see if they're coming or not and actually pay for it this week. Then sort out his present.

Our TV broke. We're getting a spare one from my granddad next time my parents come down, but we've been coping ok for now. Annoying that it happened right at the time the new series of Peep Show had just started, and FlashForward and True Blood...Still, means I've been doing more reading instead.

Finished Lucifer, which built to a fantastic finish and then carried on for another volume - not that any of it was bad or unwelcome, just not quite hitting the highs of the previous books. Mike Carey is definitely on my list of "buy more" writers (the only reason he's not on my "buy all" list is because he's so damned prolific). Also read last "proper" Changeling: the Lost book - Swords at Dawn (there's the pdf only Goblin Markets which I'm sorely tempted by despite not usually buying pdfs). I love that whole gameline. I have so so many ideas for Changeling games I could probably run nothing else for the rest of my life (but my players might have other plans). The story-lite I posted earlier today was probably as much influenced by Changeling as by my own stupid obsession. Another notable read this week was Umbrella Academy: Dallas. There aren't really the words. If you haven't experienced the sheer genius, the wonderful surreal madness that is Umbrella Academy, then go read it now. You won't regret it.

No, seriously, go read it now. It's much more interesting than this post.

And finally I'll finish by rounding up some of the stuff I've found (or rather, had pointed out to me) on the internet lately. All shared on Google Reader, so you've probably seen it already. There's the cool stuff: LEGO chrome bricks, maps warped by population density, the Ig-Nobel prizes and XKCD being awesome as always. There's the serious stuff: a petition to the UK gov. allow "other" as an official option when recording gender. And there's both: LEGO's 2010 calendar with all profits going to the National Autistic Society. I think that's it for now.

Ok, my next task is to write the next step of the explanation of my work. I suspect I'll fail and not blog again for a month or two. Until then....

[Short-short story] Incubus

He haunts my dreams. I don't recall for how long. Just that at some point, he's always been there. Handsome, with urbane wit and a sly smile, I fell for him instantly. Hard. There was no seduction involved and none needed; the attraction was too strong to be resisted and with the conversation-less ease that exists only in dreams, I went from seeing him, to being in his arms, to being in his bed. I was his.

Each night he returns. The dreams started getting longer, wilder, more intense, and I started waking up exhausted. I'd think about him more and more during the day, ignoring more and more of my life to lose myself in my fantasies. Thoughts of him lay heavy on my mind and I longed to see him again, welcoming each night as a chance to return to his embrace.

Now he haunts my days as well. I barely need to close my eyes to see his face, his voice answers unspoken thoughts, and I can almost feel his touch as if he were right beside me even now. And as much as I long to be with him, to feel his soft skin against mine, I know I need to find a way to escape.

Because I'm starting to get afraid. He's more arrogant, more demanding, crueler. As he pushes his way into my waking life, he becomes more confident, more eager, hungrier. I don't know what he wants and I daren't ask, but I have worked out what he's using me for and I'm scared that the right thing to do is to stop him. Scared because I don't think I can. I don't think I have the strength to tear myself away, to ignore him and push him away. To forget.

I love him so very very much.