I decided I needed to take my pants off. It improved my disposition greatly.

I’m just a regular woman, living in Michigan, 22 years old, 2 cats, there’s nothing extraordinary or fantastic about me, so I assume that my thoughts can’t be too exciting to anyone other than myself. But that’s quite all right, because this blog is first and foremost, for myself and nobody else. This will hold the chronicles of my boring life as I try to change myself for the better, I’m hoping to write every day, or every other day at least, but we’ll just have to see.

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Location: Grand Blanc, Michigan, United States

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

But why are the musebunnies gone?!

Waking up to cat vomit is a sure sign that the day is not going to well. On top of that, it’s a fuckin’ worthless holiday too. I hate holidays, in general, for the same reason I hate weekends. They take my stable weekday television programming from me. I’m watching a marathon of “Dirty Jobs” now, and I guess it’s ok.

After two days of missing in action Kinny showed up at 3:00pm today (noon in California where she lives). Turns out she overdid things and ended up pretty much sleeping two days straight. Now I feel bad about whining about her being gone. If I hadn’t had her up all night roleplaying she probably wouldn’t be so tired. Oh well. Ah, she just disappeared. Ah, depression. No roleplaying today I assume. I’m an addict; I need my fix. I’ve done my best to assure her that it’s all right, and not only do I not mind but I’m glad that she’s feeling better. I am, glad that she’s feeling better that is, but if I had my way we’d roleplay everyday, for hours and hours. Edit: I actually apologized to her, saying I’m sorry if I’d been keeping you up when you needed to sleep, but it turns out she really looks forward to RP time as winding down before bed. So is it the bipolar or the ovaries that make me worry about shit like that?

Kinny and I have a strange relationship. I’ve known her for longer than three years, easily, but I know very little about her. We don’t talk much. All the “talking” we do is in the guise of our characters. I attempt to make an effort, but she doesn’t really. If I ask her about her life, the conversation sort of dies a little; kind of sad for one of my oldest friends. “What’s this strange relationship that we hold on to?”

I fell asleep with inspiration in my head, and when I’d woken up the musebunnies had disappeared. I’m going to leave small offerings of chocolate around the house and see if they take the bait…then I’m going to krazy glue them to the table and suck them dry. So far they’ve only given me crumbs. “Alabaster and onyx, amethyst and blush…” it’s beautiful, but it’s nothing! I could describe the WORLD but I couldn’t make it DO anything. Writer’s block is hell, if there’s anything more frustrating to a creative mind, I don’t want to know it.

Haiiro’s courting the tiger plush again, gross. Cats have no concept of privacy or shame, and obviously neutering them doesn’t help with it at all. The weirdest part about this is not that he’s fixed, but that he mounts the damn thing backwards, humping its head. Poor stuffed animal, and to think I used to sleep with that in my bed, gross.

Ah well.  


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