Random Ramblings CCCLXVI · 3:00am May 10th, 2019
IN WHICH I SAY SCREW IT
I was looking up 80's music for you, then Kyary Pamyu Pamyu dropped a new video. Watch it.
And now everything makes sense. Forever.
I'll be honest with y'all. I've been spending most of my week in bed. I did go to the gym once so far this week, but didn't go last night because the weather was bad and also my sleep schedule is fucked up even by my standards. The euphoria I got from finally finishing Annie is long gone. I'm proud of the story as much as I can be and, like I said, I'd love to explore that continuity more, but I simply don't feel like I should before clearing my plate of other projects.
That's where the problem comes in.
This week I've attempted to make headway on finally finishing my annual Mayor Mare story. I've hit a block and, although I've figured out how to get past it -- in a way I'm certain will piss off any readers the story would get -- I have little to no desire to actually write anything down.
Nothing has been able to hold my interest for long lately and I'm frustrated.
I'm barely on social media anymore. I'm burned out on all the politics -- ironic considering it's literally what my degree is in, but perhaps that's why; Donald Trump is such a perversion of everything I've spent my life learning that even the things that make sense don't make sense.
Upton Sinclair once said that when Fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying a cross. He was correct, but I don't think even he expected that cross would be on fire -- Trump today laughed when someone at one of his rallies suggested shooting asylum seekers. I wish someone would shoot him. It won't be me; I don't own a gun. I know better than anyone that killing Trump (rather than letting his poor health take him out) makes him a martyr and starts another Civil War, but I've been of the belief for some time that the war is inevitable anyway so may as well get it over with.
My mother wants me to go shopping with her tomorrow. That's okay I guess. Maybe they'll have the cold-brew coffee I like. I increasingly find it difficult to write unless I'm caffeinated. It's a crutch, not unlike alcohol. Sometimes I can't write even if I am hepped up on coffee.
I just want to sit back in my chair and watch Sakura Gakuin -- cute elementary & junior-high Japanese girls singing and dancing. It's innocence and happiness and I can't understand a goddamn word but it doesn't matter. It's the World's Most Exclusive Girls-Only Club™ -- since 2010 there have only been 36 members.
I'm bluh. Maybe I'll write tonight, maybe not. Does it matter? I have no idea.
Peace out
I hope you’re doing all right, man. The world is indeed really weird in all sorts of ways right now, but I hope you can find some good.
I’m in a (maybe) similar blocked-up state. I’ve decided to finally say screw it and write sequels to some fics that need them, but it all needs some serious development. And my own recent attempts at the gym are making my brain crazy.
Well, I suppose I should get at it. Enjoy your coffee—can anything so divine truly be a crutch? I submit that it cannot.
I know what you mean by the high of finishing something wearing off. Every time I finish a chapter of my fanfic I feel this high for a few hours before I'm back to feeling a little bluh. The high returns whenever I get positive or helpful comments on it all.
I kind of wish someone would kill Trump too tbh. He's a mistake in all sorts of ways. I getcha on being burned out about it. :(
Don't push yourself to write if you're not feeling up to it, just work on getting better.