I have to get to bed soon for work tomorrow. Back to the daily grind of 10-12 projects I have to figure out how to make fit into an 8-hour day, canceling things that need to get done to work on other things that I am asked to do at the last minute that take forever to put together just right, and doing my best to both handle my depression and convince the world that no, really, I'm all right, don't mind me, I'm not fucking feeling guilty over skipping spending time with my grandfather on his last night on earth to eat hibachi and drink merlot too fast when I knew he probably wasn't going to last I had the chance to tell him what I wanted to without sobbing my eyes out and I didn't take it Jesus Christ I'm just the BEST FUCKING GRANDDAUGHTER EVER AMIRITE?

I can't fucking believe I'm saying this, but if there's any blessing at all that's come from this--any fucking blessing at all--it's that I know now that life's too fucking short to fret over the canon characterization of a fucking cartoon personification of a fucking character.  Needlessly said I'm not working on Bitter Medicine now--if I do ever go back to it.  Because seriously, fuck honoring Grandpa's memory by writing that bullshit.  And when I pick up my pen again I am going to be indulging in some decenthumanbeing!goodlover!France.

...Like I said.  I have about an hour.  And then I'm going to bed.  And wearing what I'm wearing now to bed in case my friends try to surprise me because I might or might not have vented to them in a text that I want to get "so shitfaced that I can't see straight."



October 2013

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