50K words into my 2012 NaNoWriMo attempt, I realized that the two most powerful scenes of my story aren’t really where they belong. Putting them in the correct places in the narrative changes the entire flow and pretty much necessitate a re-write of the entire thing.
To quote Dean Winchester, “SON OF A BITCH!”
Doing some clean up:
- Foursquare - done.
- Instagram - done.
- One of my three twitter accounts - gone.
- My Facebook and ‘real’ twitter accounts are about to go under the knife as well - time to double check who has access to what.
- I’m getting rid of cell phone numbers that are clogging up my address book.
It’s freeing. It’s also necessary.
I need to take control of my life again.
It’s time to delete some of the unnecessary noise.
I’m learning who my real friends are and who deserves my loyalty. I’m not surprised any more by who will make the cut and who won’t. I know who has my back and who doesn’t.
I’m facing the music and realizing where the bipolar fits in my life.
As a result, I need to figure out where a lot of shit fits in with the bipolar.
I’m even thinking about walking away from this blog…
I’d start blogging somewhere else (of course), but I think this URL needs to be retired.
companion. always companion.
Someone on tumblr pointed out that in a multi-fandom name, Supernatural always comes first and Sherlock comes at the end. (Superwholockian, for example).
My new tumblr url is…
Supernatural (I’m on the good ship Destiel), Doctor Who (TARDIS), Sherlock (duh)
Didn’t mean to do that. It came to me in a dream.
it’s safe to say i have an unhealthy obsession with david tennant
I’ve decided it’s a hell of a lot more fun to be a teenager on tumblr, obsessing over Delena and loving all things superwholockian, than it is to be a grown up lately.
If you want me, I’ll be over there for a while. Trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.
So much to write about, but I’m going to keep it short.
The “Where’s Finnick? Odair he his!” jokes have started to fly again around the THG Fandom.
My Shenny fanfic has so many little things that are popping up in other fan fics, that I think head canon has taken priority over canon in the fandom. There’s so few new canon Shenny moments, that they’ve already been used to death by other writers. Now, we just need the writers to accept our head canon and put the show back to the way it used to be… before Shamy ruined it.
Weeping. Angels. Weeping. FUCKING. Angels. They will be the death of me. Every time I see a statue now, I can’t blink. I keep hearing Ten tell me if I blink I’m dead. The nightmares! Holy crap did I have nightmares after watching “Blink”. That’s when I know a show is gooooooood.
So much other stuff, but I had fandoms on the brain…. so there you go.
arsey :: da ‘brook :: august 13, 2008
Arsey is the kind of dog my dad liked. Stupid. Lazy. Cute. The only thing she demands is love. 24/7/365. She can never get enough. NEVER. Actually, my dad did like her. A lot. And the feeling was pretty mutual. They were buddies for the brief time they knew each other.
I’ve been thinking about my dad a lot recently. I’ve had a few BFOs recently about my future - what I want, where I’m going, how I’m going to get there - and I think in terms of what would make my dad proud. Forget Jesus - WWMMDP is the question on all the cool kids’ lips.
It’s taken me a ridiculously long time to figure out what I want. Doing that horizons of focus bit a few weeks ago helped, but recent events at work are helping more. I know I can get what I want out of a workplace - I just need to take my time and make sure that what is shown to me is truly in line with what I want. It’s not easy. I’m so willing to jump at the first chance that it’s hard to take that step back and say “this is not what I want.” I’ve had some weird experiences lately. Twice I’ve been passed over at the last minute because the job description changed. I was jerked around by this guy who had no intention of hiring me due to my commute. I almost made one of the largest mistakes of my life when I seriously considered working in Worcester for the Baby Sharks.
Patience has never been my strong suit. And it’s never been Arsey’s either.
I think we both need a cookie and some lovin’.