Thursday night. My husband is screaming at the television screen: “Fuck you, Oprah. Fuck you!”
This is not good. This isn’t something I ever thought I’d have to handle. This goes against the core of me, and my instinct is to push him off the couch and make him stop bad-mouthing my Oprah. It’s like he looked at Dan and said, “I never liked your face.” It’s like he said Jollibee fucked my mom.
He’s upset. Lots of people are upset.
…About books. It’s fantastic. Continue reading
Amazon has added a brand new evil feature.
Now you can find out how many letters, words and characters are in the pages of Why Girls Are Weird. You can find out how many “complex words” I used (6%). You can find out what grade education is needed to understand the book (4.8). Sorry, third graders! Continue reading
This month is going to be insane, and so a little sporadic around here. I’m out of town a lot, for weddings and holiday and all of that stuff that comes around this time of the year, but I promise to update whenever I can.
I got sick, which I always do before I take a trip, so for the last two days I was immobile, whining and moaning, complaining about everything, trying to survive for two days without caffeine. I had my first cup of coffee this morning since Saturday, and I just about spun a hole into the ground with my sudden burst of energy. I was so wired that I had to run an errand while I was in the middle of a chore, because I just couldn’t take standing still any longer. I still have more errands to run, including laundry, packing, cooking, etc., so perhaps another cup will be necessary. No wonder I drink so much of this stuff! It’s great! I feel so good, even though I still feel mostly shitty! Coffee rules!
You know those days when you turn over your change jar and shake out all the quarters and then sadly you realize you have a bank account balance that would only please a twelve-year old? It’s one of those days. I hate stressing about money, and that’s the main thing going on today.
I also don’t like talking about money, or talking about money problems because inevitably you send up sounding like an asshole. Someone’s always got worse money problems than you do. That’s like me complaining about my swimmer’s ear next to a guy with a seeing eye dog. It’s hard to keep everything in perspective, though, when you allow yourself to get so nervous about money.
Working freelance means you never really know when that next paycheck is coming, and it’s hard to budget. It’s almost impossible to just splurge on something because you end up regretting it later when that one check you were counting on isn’t coming for another month, or might not be coming ever again. Anyway, I allowed myself to wallow in my brokeness today, and I’m just the worst person to be around.
The background music, the ongoing soundtrack of my late nights for the past five years has been provided by Playstation. Various video game orchestral swells have accompanied many a late-night writing period, or play loudly underneath my brain as I finish a book.
Right now World War II is going on behind my head. It sounds like gunfire and loud German shouts.