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Regarding Pandemic 2

It's kind of disturbing just how fun a game that involves infecting and killing the entire world can be. But there's something so diabolically enjoyable about it, cackling as entire countries fall. It took me a few tries, but I finally wiped out the entire planet. Except Madagascar. But I hear it's pretty much impossible to get Madagascar, so I don't feel too bad.

Conversely, it's absolutely stomach-turning to research gunshot wounds, the fatality rate thereof, and where to shoot to reach fatality. Next I'm going to need to study scars regarding gunshot wounds. That's a Google image search I am not looking forward to.

And in other news...

I became an aunt for the sixth time at about seven o'clock this morning. Our fifth girl, I feel for my poor, lone nephew. But as I told him, I survived growing up with two brothers, you can survive two sisters and three girl cousins. And you'll come away from it with a great understanding of the other side.

Considering he's seven, though, this wasn't particularly comforting to him. At least I tried.

Haven't seen the kidlet yet, since Emmy+Hospital+Being up all night=no good things for -anyone- involved. But I'll head over that way soon enough, probably after the parentals have had a chance to take a long, well deserved nap.

And to think before kidlet number 1 was born, I was only the second girl born on my father's side of the family in two hundred years. Guess I'm not special anymore.

It really does figure

Nine days until my birthday. Two until the big my birthday/sis-in-law birthday/Mother's Day party and what do I do? Mess up my ribs. Again.

I've no one to blame but myself, really. I was babysitting yon youngest kidlet yesterday (who, as an aside, will no longer be the youngest kidlet come the end of July) and...well, she's not getting any lighter, and I'm not getting any younger, is the best explanation I got. Even after I healed from the injury last time, I still felt twinges every once in a while, especially if I moved wrong or lifted something too heavy. And now I'm paying the price. Again.

Don't mind me, really. As usual, I'm in a funk about this and that. Been really self-doubting lately about the latest novel, mostly along the lines of "Who would even want to read this/why am I wasting my time?" or variations thereof. So that's been fun, trying to power through and get this blasted book done already.

The other issue I'm having is one I've been stewing about off and on for a while. Not to get into heavy details, but there's a certain person I consider a friend. We haven't talked much lately. I've tried reaching out a few times, but never get a response. Despite the fact we've always gotten along really well, I start wondering if I did something wrong or offended this person somehow. Or if they've just decided, hey, I've got all the friends I need so I'm going to cut this one loose.

I'm sure I'm being paranoid. But it all goes back to that self-doubt again. I don't particularly understand why people like me, among those that do. I'm well aware I'm not the best friend to have. Especially when I'm feeling like I am now, or if I'm so wrapped up in my own little world I forget about other people. Still, I try to do the best I possibly can.

So yeah, I'm just all sorts of fun at the moment. But there are good things in life right now, and I know my problems are small compared to what's going on in the world. So I'll just find my inner calm and some perspective, and I'll be okay. Well, okay as I ever am.

This is how my mind works

So, it's one thing to realize that after having been sucked into my own novel and made into a character (long story, part of the plot, it's a weird book this time, even more than usual) I've entered into what amounts to an emotionally abusive relationship with my villain.

It's quite another thing, after realizing it, to emphasize it even more and make it a plot point in and of itself.

I swear, this novel is either gonna finally get me published because it's so unlike anything else I've seen and some agent or another will just have to give it a try, or it's going to be what finally puts me in the loony bin.

Possibly both.

How nice

Ya know, there's something really satisfying about making my mom so excited just because I was able to use a CreateSpace coupon to make a copy of her favorite of the books I've written. I just confirmed the order now, and she can't hardly wait for it to arrive.

Though if anyone else wants a copy, they'll pay for it their own selves, since a single copy would (with shipping and handling and whatnot) come to almost fifteen bucks. I love my friends and family, but there's way too many of them to be that generous.

You know you're a geek when...

You're choosing a new ringtone, and it comes down to the Jeopardy think music, or the theme from Superman. And that only because the one they had for Batman sounded awful.

I went with Superman, in case anyone's interested. I love that theme. And no, I so didn't play it and zoom around the house pretending I was flying. Shut up. You have no proof.

Good gravy

I now have a new record in literary agent rejection times: five minutes. Bloody hell, people. Can't you even try to pretend you actually read it?

I have no words

I just...what...how...I don't even...what? Seriously, what?

I really don't know how to articulate what happened to me this morning. The best I can put it is that I got several of the most condescending comments to stuff on my deviantart, and a note that absolutely takes the cake, the ice cream, and the whole damn party. I mean, like I said to the person when I responded, I'm sure some of this is actually meant well, and the condescending tone throughout it is just me being sensitive. I don't actually believe that, but I was trying to be polite, especially since I knew after that opening paragraph I was going to end up getting a lot less polite.

Though it saddens me that I just don't have it in me to go ahead and just tell someone exactly what they can do and what bit of anatomy they can stuff it in. There have been times when I've lost my temper and said very nasty things, but those times are very few, and I always feel guilty afterwards, even if I have nothing to feel guilty about. I hate that.

I'm not going to go into details, because I'm trying really, really hard not to be petty about this whole thing, but I just can't get over how utterly gobsmacked I am about it. The whole time I was reading this long note, I just kept thinking to myself "And just who do you think you are? My God, this takes some big brass ones." It's just....aaaaggghhh, I just want to let to go, but I can't. It's just gnawing at me.

Though admittedly, me being me, I am able to see the humor in it. It's just trying to get past the part of it that makes me want to say nasty, petty things that's the tough part.

Edit: Okay, heard back from the person. Still think they went about it in precisely the wrong way, but there were some justifications (not saying they're good ones, but still, justifications) and a much better tone overall. I'm much more peaceful now. And also, I am now very glad I kept my temper.

Riddle me this...

Why do dress shoes always have to be so damned uncomfortable? I mean, even just looking at my options here, I know my poor messed-up feet will not be happy. And also, why do the majority have to have those skinny little stiletto heels, which no one with my kind of co-ordination (or lack thereof) can be expected to walk in, much less wear for several hours.

Honestly, I already bought a dress for my parents big Anniversary party. This dress, to be precise: http://www.forever21.com/product.asp?catalog_name=FOREVER21&category_name=dress_casual&product_id=2076550029&Page=all&pgcount=25 and I spent an exorbitant amount for shipping just to make sure it gets here in time. Isn't that enough?

Sigh. Time to break out my clogs, which messed up my sciatic nerve last time I wore them, or bite the bullet and be a big girl and get new shoes. Damn it all. Being a girl is hard.

Memory Lane

Man, there's nothing like going through old family photos. It's enabled me to see just what an awkward creature I used to be (and, let's face it, still am). Don't get me wrong, I was a cute kid. Downright adorable there for a while, blonde curls and dimples and such. At the risk of sounding like I'm bragging, my parents were told on multiple occasions that they should have me go into modeling. My parents never listened, thank goodness.

Then I became a teenager, and it all went downhill. Honestly, you can almost tell the moment I hit puberty. And boy, did I ever hit it hard. So much bad skin, and metal mouth, and questionable fashion choices.

Hey, at least now I only have two out of the three of those! And even the skin is kept moderately under control. Sometimes.

I do miss some of those outfits, though. They're all so delightfully loud, or unfashionable, or just downright odd. I've always liked things that are just a little different, and it shows.

I've always been an odd duck, is the real crux of the matter. And it's only now I'm old enough to really appreciate just how much I love that.

Though I'll admit, even I don't know what I was thinking with the yellow jeans with huge roses printed on them.