The way the moonlight springs off your skin at night (makes me want to stab you in the eye).


After much time spent yesterday, going through old notes, doing everything I could to put off actually writing – including fucking around with my kindle camera and photo apps to the point you would think I was ACTUALLY a frustrated 15 year old girl – here I am after a failed attempt at sleeping.

It is 6:55am, I have coffee brewing, bad pop songs on my spotify, old episodes of My So Called life on the t.v. and I haven’t looked in the mirror yet, but because I forgot to take my makeup off last night – I’m pretty sure that I look like hooker warmed over.

I’m trying this whole “blogging from a pad” thing. Usually I haul my cumbersome gaming laptop out and verbally abuse it for awhile before actually updating.

Today, I’m taking the brain to mouth filter off even more and just giving you all the business. By “the business”, I’m not meaning a crude euphemism for sex, I’m meaning that I haven’t even been properly caffeinated and here I am, trying to word and grammar.

So, I hope my “business” does marginally better than my train of thought.

In the last week, I’ve been busy and semi productive. I moved into a larger room in my house, which has afforded me the benefit of seeing exactly how neurotic I ACTUALLY am.

Did you know I kept all my prom dresses and every note that Matt Foster passed me in high school? I didn’t either! Until I was forced to go through most of my belongings. I was also forced to confront the unfortunate fact that the man I was in love with early in my life actually attempted to write me a love note in which he started by trying to be romantic, moved on to using imagery to make his point, then closed by asking me a question. Now, this All SEEMS like a very sweet gesture…until you take into account that he was comparing me to his favorite strain of marijuana and asking me if he could get high in my van before 5th period because he wanted to hit biology “ready to melt faces…” .

Other things found among my belongings – all of my old retainers. 27 rosaries. My old high school uniform. Every formal dress I ever wore. 6 cut up band shirts – 3 of which were in fact, the clash, and every diary I’ve kept since I was 12.

As a writer old diaries are kind of a treasure trove. Normally. Unless your diaries are really poorly written poetry on cigarette boxes and extended metaphors for death, sex, and drugs written by an exceptionally disturbed teenager.

I was, what you may refer to as a “weird kid.”

I went to a Catholic college prep school and once wore bunny ears and clown shoes for the expressed reason that the dress code did not exactly forbid it. Then, I argued my way out of a detention by citing the student handbook and being an incredibly stubborn ass.

I got the dress code completely changed.

All this stuff did cement an idea for me though. Now, I am going to preface this with either “You’re welcome.” Or “I’m sorry.” It is only going to be one of the two.

I am expanding my internerd presence to include a podcast, and in addition to the graphic novel, probably a web series. I’ve been slacking terribly at role play in game in lieu of creating things in my real life.

I’m sure I will be back in WoW and Guild wars 2 soon. I may even actually level. I may even do it before the Elder Scrolls MMO comes out and I fall into an extended nerd coma for weeks.

Anyway, keep your eyes peeled while I go and create things in the night.

My co-host and partner for the podcast has been hand picked and fully nagged for almost a year to finally agreeing to do this.
I’m excited about the coming weeks. This update went surprisingly well. Looks like you all will be hearing from me soon.

And more.

Love and stuff.


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