Second day of bethlessness. It's freaksome. I'm pretty sure a nervous breakdown, or a cookie eating spree, is in my future. I looked out the window and no birds sang on key. Also, it is really hot, and considering I had a Romantic Moment with snow
last weekend, well, let's just say that obviously, the entire world is falling apart by inches.
Also, my muses is being a bitch. I've firmly decided to embrace pretentiousness and call it a muse, and dammit, it is vacationing somewhere that's not here
, or it's really addicted to something that so far, my nerves won't let me write. I didn't realize I still had inhibitions. Go figure.
And it just seems wrong to torture Lex and Clark, or Brian and Justin, just because I'm in a bad mood. I mean, not that I'm going to stop or anything, but you know, guilt. Bad mood. No Beth. Unhealthy combinations, that.
So, muselessness. Which is kind of boring, and I've decided that it may never come back and held the funeral. My future shall be one of lace collars and I shall become a tax investment specialist who hides in her not-corner office and stares at a computer screen all day. I mean, a lot like now, but with more numbers and less smut and possibly take up drinking bourbon. People seem to drink it a lot on TV. And the most exciting part of my day will be reconciling figures of some kind. ( Collapse )