Did not go out, did not type, read, write or watch tv. Did not pass go, did not pick up $200.
In other words, another punishing day followed by a good passing out. Finishing off the last of the merlot might have helped with that, but by god, I needed that. I really did. I knew I'd never make it past more than five minutes of Relic Hunter and I didn't. No reflection on dear Nigel, I was just fried.
Once upon a time co-workers used to sneer at how smart I was, when I wasn't even trying. Now they sneer at how dumb I am and I'm trying as hard as I can. Once upon a time I used to laugh at people being struck down by mystery illnesses. You'll note I'm not laughing now. I've got to learn all these systems and languages and protocols by next week and I just simply can't do it. I'm so stupid. It's upsetting and humiliating on top of everything else. I used to get this stuff so easy, that's what makes it so hard now. I'm the idiot now, Cletus the Slack Jawed Yokel. I'm past breaking and I'm not even running the show all by myself yet. This is going to be messy.
Three words: duck and cover.
At least the cold winter rain kept the noisy fucking possums at bay. They've been scampering, rolling, tumbling, skittering, clambering and thumping all over the roof in their amorous pursuits. I've not slept in days, which doesn't help. Damn fucking possums. Next time I see one hanging off the Foxtel cable it won't be awww, cute, I'll frelling brain 'im.
Cracking Farscape this morning though. Into the Lion's Den. The jetpacks were very Flash Gordon. I approve. Loved the Scorpy-Sue comment. The new baddie is too much a Servalan clone though. Way too much. Never mind, John in leather for breakfast is good enough.
I seem to have two different endings for my thrird JP3 fic now: nice Billy or nasty Billy. Which one will I choose? Hmmmm. Might combine endings (ambivalent Billy), might choose, might let the readers choose, dvd style.
Bet you can't guess which one I'm leaning towards. Well, in the words of the Vogon Captain: "I don't see why anyone else should have a good time." My meagre experiences are all worthy of Jerry Springer episodes and to quote Anya: "I have witnessed a millennium of treachery and oppression from the males of the species, and I have nothing but contempt for the whole libidinous lot of them."
So naturally I see amoral Billy as the norm, and nice Billy as the aberration. Not that Billy doesn't feel he has an excuse to behave like a right little shit. Whether that excuse is sufficient justification, I'll leave to the readers.
I was going to apologise for loudly bagging Americans (again) yesterday, but I just read they're subtitling Australian tv shows again, so fuck that :P. Besides, I'm no Vichy collaborator toady, writing my fic in American just because some Yank told me to. I'll give my American characters American dialogue but that's it. This insistence that I write the prose in American because the scene is set in Montana is ridiculous. Do I switch to Mongolian when I send the boys off to the Gobi desert? I'll write in my own language, thankyou. You can add your subtitles, you can adapt or you can piss off. I'm writing for my own pleasure, not to be popular, and probably a good thing too. Hmph.
Of course if I was being paid lots, integrity would be right out the window, but I'm not. In fact I'm paying lots to publish my stuff these days, so integrity is staying right where it is, thank you.
Okay, obviously Little Miss Sleep Deprived and Cranky today. Will reflect on my need for a holiday, or just a night out, away from constant belittling. I miss my old job. I miss fun people and being able to go out. I miss Ewan spotting opportunities. I miss having fun. I miss dining out. I miss pub crawls. I miss Irish backpackers. I miss cute boys (with manners). I miss movies, galleries, museums, theatre, bands and all that good stuff. I miss having a life. This is another year gone of my life and all I've done is work. Misery.
It probably sounds much worse than it is. I'm just tired and fed up and I seem to be stuck at the bottom of a pit and I can't seem to dig my way out. It would help if the person I thought was my best friend would reply to an email once a year. Sheesh.
Just had a meeting with another co-worker and she is also of the grey skin and racoon eyes and wanting to quit if not for this silly need to feed, clothe and shelter oneself, so at least I know it's not just me and my own personal weaknesses and lack of moral fibre aren't wholly responsible for my current predicament. That's something, right? Right? :)
I'd go and see a flick tonight to cheer myself up only what I want to see is two hours away and I've got other stuff, stuff I can't defer, that requires my attention, alas, and bugger.