Mar. 25th, 2013

kittydesade: (boots not finery)
No Irish today, ran out of time due to sleeping in ugh.

I'd forgotten exactly how bad my morning sneezing fits are. I think I forget this every year, I'm allergic to something that blooms around springtime and just in the mornings, with the end result that lots of sneezing fits make maneuvering around breakfast and cats and exercises way more difficult than I feel it should be. It irks me. It's irksome.

This weekend, good fucking god, THIS WEEKEND. It was full of Srs Discussions Are Srs and some ugly truths and a lot of wait holy shit seriously? That's a thing? type revelations. I could have done without the energy sapping qualities of half of those, but at least good stuff came out of all of them. The upshot is that I need to make a CS post sooner rather than later (and by later I mean at the usual time) to get it all straight in my head, because it might mean my chances of pulling off a half-decent book publishing are greater than I'd previously thought. There's also some very peculiar mindset shit tied into that particular area, the one tied into low self esteem in some very peculiar ways where if people are talking about the blog behind our back, it's always in the "oh that crazy fangirl" way and couldn't possibly be in a positive way. Anyway, more detail later when I sit down and go over it. I also got massively infodumped as to self-publishing and publicizing and marketing and things, and apparently I have the right... technique? Words? And just needed a shitpile of new tools. So there was dealing with that too.

And the end result being that meat pies didn't happen, and neither did the sugar cookies I started craving at 8pm that night. Poopy. But edits did happen, shepherd's pie happened so at least there was healthy dinner, a whole bunch of other shit happened, um. Useful shit did happen! The weekend wasn't entirely wasted, just, not as productive as I wanted it to be. Which means I need to stop kicking myself, especially since the boy decided to fuck up his sleep schedule resulting in him getting up at 4 am last night, which meant I had to get up, and then the cats, and fucking argh. No, actually, now that I think about it, the only thing that didn't get done over the weekend that I wanted to do was pick up the living room. So nyah, brainweasels. Nyah to you.

Today's statement of intent: EITHER rewrite whatever the Julien/Syd story gets called OR finish edits on First Principles, you don't have time to do both, self. In the evening, maybe, whichever one of those doesn't get done during the day can get worked on. Russian didn't look too bad last I checked it, so maybe picking out a grammar point in there and otherwise moving on to the next chunk of verbs, assuming I've mastered the difference between увидеть, видеть, and смотреть to my teacher's satisfaction. *salute* German, still churning on the questionnaire in German. I also need to ponder what to do with my blog now that I've migrated it to wordpress and my website so that I have that one central location for everything related to Kitty Chandler. But that's just ponderings and actually fucking around with it can happen later in the week.
kittydesade: (safe place)
Read more... )

EVERYBODY'S running late today. Yay. Wait, no, that other thing.

So, lyrics composing! I haven't done that in a while. I'm not terrified at all, particularly since this is kind of sort of maybe (okay, almost entirely) my fault and apparently the fate of the world rides on this. Pressurepressurepressurepressure /RDJ. Why no, I'm not panicking. Why would you think that. Shut up. Go 'way.

(Long story. Lots of pictures.)

Still need to check in and untangle the snarl that is my brain on semi-imminent book publishing. The "what is this how my life" moments have been coming thick and fast, and there's a huge amount of fiddly details that I need to do even apart from the line edits, which argh. Just in general, argh. My head's exploding as much from realizing all the little things I should be doing as from realizing that this could actually be a thing. And mostly, in short, writing and publishing? I'm actually doing it? The fuck? Five or six months worth of writing and putting it out there and having people read it, things which aren't fanfic, versus twenty years plus of writing original fiction and keeping it close or hidden, or only having a few people read it. And. It's a thing, okay?

Right, back to day job work, though. When I'm done with that stuff I can sit down and try to make sense of my scrambled egg brains. And at some point today I call Mom and freak out at her. And at some point tonight/tomorrow morning I crawl online and freak out some more at people oh who am I kidding. My online presence these days is one long slow-burning status of freakout.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!

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