October 25th, 2005

Christine - pity

(no subject)

Oh, shut up, LiveJournal.  My password has been the same for four years and nobody's hacked it yet.

I constructed a letter/rant in my brain all the way home just now, and I'm going to write it down probably just before I go to bed, even though I know I'm far too cowardly to do anything with it other than that, whether that's handing it on, putting it here, or whatever.  I might show it to someone for a second opinion, but I doubt I'll even get that far.  But I think writing it down would help get the crap out of my brain.

For now, I'm going to eat my George-Foreman-grilled steak and chips.
  • Current Mood
    gloomy gloomy
  • Tags
Random - Garbo

Mrrg.

Slightly better.  Paul haunts me via telephone.  And since nobody ever calls here, I know it's always him on the other end of the line when it rings.

He forced (maybe cajoled) me to talk and we cleared some stuff up that was residual from this afternoon and caused some of the head-rant.  There's still other stuff, but that can wait.

I just rejigged a bit of the pending chapter of Sweet Intoxication, but I need to separate the fluffness with some hero!Raoul to frustrate everyone.  Heh.  "Everyone", like there's a huge audience still following my every syllable.  My days of infamy are long gone.

I want so desperately to rekindle my old love of fanfiction; to be lost once more in an epic story that moves the soul.  It's so much easier when you already care about the characters, and being a Literature student has killed off my bookgeek, despite efforts to the contrary.  I want it back, God dammit.  But I can't get back what's run from me.  The Council truly owns my soul.  It keeps it in a box, next to lots of other boxes, all in a big box-room.  It's like the Lost Souls Room in Beetlejuice, only not quite as ethereal.  Birmingham City Council can't afford the special effects for that.

I think I'm going insane.

The long haul starts here, I think; another 60+ days of ever-increasing pre-menstrual angst.  The best, as they say, is yet to come.