kittydesade | May. 31st, 2013

( Gaeilge )

The boy thinks he saw a fox in the yard today. I probably shouldn't be so excited about this, but I do like foxes, and as long as it's not rabid and hunts in the woods behind our house it can stay there! Plus it probably won't eat my garden. Though I suppose there's no way to know it won't tear it up.

Last night was an interesting exercise in being girly. Ended up having a twitter conversation with two friends about clothes, style, fashion that fits one's body. Even ended up sending pictures to them with a top I've felt ambivalent about for a while. And of course I take horrible pictures of myself. But they said it looked good, both the color and cut, so. That's something! And then Anna did an I-told-you-so dance. And now I'm kind of back on Polyvore mucking around with clothes and fashion and things, largely because yesterday I finally caved and got a couple tank tops for summer. Yeah, I can be a real adult and dress myself like I have self-confidence and self-esteem and an ego.

Right. Today, Gods and Monsters or White Lightning, because I need to establish a timeline ... well, finish establishing a timeline for Blood in the Gutters and that's not going to happen till this weekend. Also because there's a strong chance I'll be in the front of the store a lot. Eh well.

No Russian today, I just spent the last 3 hours sorting and labeling dye jars instead of ... well, almost everything.

Some days, I look around at all the charities funded and all the people who are getting emergencies paid for and I think, god bless the internet. It brings people together to support each other.

And then some days I look at the desperate cries of mine and the braintwin's bills and wonder where the fuck is the button we haven't found yet so we can push it and get our desperate causes paid for. Seriously, it's not even nearly as much as most of the other campaigns I've seen get funded. Which, yes, were for worthy causes, but goddammit internet where the fuck is the money button.

And yes, I'm being callous, bitchy, and mercenary. I don't fucking care. I am tired, I am sick at heart, I am sick of having to stretch and stretch and pray and plan every month to come out with $20 at the end of it for indulgences. Like candy bars. Or books. And I'm sick of my friends having to do so too. This is my journal, I get to bitch about it if I want to.

(And what really pisses me off is the second I type all this out, part of me goes and scolds myself, it's not that bad. You'll have all your appliances and maybe even the car paid off by the end of next year, and then you'll have that extra money per month. It's not that bad, you'll sell books and you can use that as indulgence money. No, self. No I fucking won't, and no I fucking can't, because no one wants to buy my books. Or read my stories. Or wants to donate for my stories. Or cares. I can put out all the books I want, and no one will buy them, so it's down to the day job, and that's still a year and a half and. Twenty. Freaking. Dollars. After all the bills are paid for.)

I'm sick and tired of this. All of it.

I'm leaving comments on, but I wouldn't expect a reply. Just venting. We will return to your regularly chipper and productive and positive Jag tomorrow.