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What has the chetser gone?
Jan. 22nd, 2008 02:32 pmIt's cold here in Oklahoma. Not just weather cold, but it feels like soul cold. I don't like it much, either. Ever since the adventure with Angel and her father in Oregon, the world just has not seemed quite right. Granted there's not a whole lot wrong that I can see right off. I still have the same old issues with family that I've always had and I'm fairly healthy. There are signs of arthritis trying to remind me how old I am, but I keep ignoring it. Little shoots of not quite pain keep reminding me that it's still here, though.
My twice weekly get-together with my chosen family is a good thing and reminds me that I'm loved by many people, but for some reason, I just feel... empty. Rather missing something. I feel very much lonely, which is rare for me. It's like I'm craving a bottle and company and laughs, over pizza or barbque or just nosh stuff, and yet, don't feel the need to bother anyone with the details of it.
I've been trying to write a story, and there are elements of story there. It's just not coming out. I've actually been trying to write a couple of stories, but nothing gels.
Stories about BP&G just don't hold flavor for me right now, like gum left on the bedpost over night. and yes, it does loose it's flavor. Stories about the Coven in New York, and why they would need an old hedge wizard to find out why the gate keeper to the DeathGate has left his post. And how the Archangel Gabriel fell to his death from the Empire State Building.
but nope. No stories want to congeal and gel and formulate and create. They just sit there in my head, floating around, malformed and misshapen. Tim, bless his heart, challenged me to write something. Sherry, gotta love her, asked me to write a story. I can't right now, chums. It'll come, but not right now. Maybe later tonight.
I just finished re-reading Tim's latest story, pre-editing. I swear, the man is a genius and gets better with age. I hope to be him when I grow up. I hope he gets this one published. In Fact, Tim, why don't you send it to the SCI FI channel. It would make a great lil short story, leading to a series. The details are wonderful.
Maybe I'm depressed. Depression is one of the things that I don't really recognize. Malaise is the best way for me to explain it. Once this month, or this next few months pass by, I'll probably snap out of it. I always do.
It's not that there's something wrong, dear. It's just that there may be nothing right.
I'm thinking I'll take a walk to the Library. Walking usually makes me feel better. Hugs, folks, and if you worry, don't. Worry accomplishes nothing. Just know that I'm thinking of YOU, because you're the ones that matter to me.
My twice weekly get-together with my chosen family is a good thing and reminds me that I'm loved by many people, but for some reason, I just feel... empty. Rather missing something. I feel very much lonely, which is rare for me. It's like I'm craving a bottle and company and laughs, over pizza or barbque or just nosh stuff, and yet, don't feel the need to bother anyone with the details of it.
I've been trying to write a story, and there are elements of story there. It's just not coming out. I've actually been trying to write a couple of stories, but nothing gels.
Stories about BP&G just don't hold flavor for me right now, like gum left on the bedpost over night. and yes, it does loose it's flavor. Stories about the Coven in New York, and why they would need an old hedge wizard to find out why the gate keeper to the DeathGate has left his post. And how the Archangel Gabriel fell to his death from the Empire State Building.
but nope. No stories want to congeal and gel and formulate and create. They just sit there in my head, floating around, malformed and misshapen. Tim, bless his heart, challenged me to write something. Sherry, gotta love her, asked me to write a story. I can't right now, chums. It'll come, but not right now. Maybe later tonight.
I just finished re-reading Tim's latest story, pre-editing. I swear, the man is a genius and gets better with age. I hope to be him when I grow up. I hope he gets this one published. In Fact, Tim, why don't you send it to the SCI FI channel. It would make a great lil short story, leading to a series. The details are wonderful.
Maybe I'm depressed. Depression is one of the things that I don't really recognize. Malaise is the best way for me to explain it. Once this month, or this next few months pass by, I'll probably snap out of it. I always do.
It's not that there's something wrong, dear. It's just that there may be nothing right.
I'm thinking I'll take a walk to the Library. Walking usually makes me feel better. Hugs, folks, and if you worry, don't. Worry accomplishes nothing. Just know that I'm thinking of YOU, because you're the ones that matter to me.
