speak no evil

Well, hello insomnia. Thanks so much for visiting me at, oh, 3.30am. You do know that the day isn't supposed to start for another 3 hours, right??

Grrr.

Also, how the hell did my cracky pwp turn into an examination of relationship boundaries and consent? Actually, what am I saying? I know exactly where it's gone off the rails of the crack train and hit Seriousville, and I can't work out whether I should let it keep going or just uncouple that carriage. Whatever will get me to the end faster, damn it. It wasn't supposed to be this long. Oh my god I totally fail at pwp don't I.

*cries*

I made a kind of extravagant purchase today - a new Samsung Galaxy Tab. For what reason? Mostly to read comics, to be honest. Ergo, the extravagance. I was going to buy a Nexus 7 because they're so cute and I really like the feel of them, but in the end it came down to price, since I shouldn't really have been making the purchase in the first place.

But! I did have about 75 bucks in gift cards sitting in my wallet (when I do good at work my boss gives me eftpos gift cards - that's kind of cool, actually) so it was 75 bucks off the already cheap price. I thought that sounded like a good trade-off, said trade-off being between "I should not be spending this money" and "I really, really want a tablet" so I'm not sure the logic behind that justification stands up, but oh well. I can now read comics to my heart's content.

Hmm I'm also struggling manfully with some writing for a certain promptfest (which I will not reveal until I'm done in case I don't actually get it done!). I really need to adopt a forced regimen of minimum daily writing time or something, because it really is all about habit, isn't it. That's what stops me. I don't make myself write; I only write when I feel like it. Obviously, that state of being does not occur with a great deal of regularity or reliability, or I'd have way more finished fics.

And you know, I go back and read something I started, and some of that stuff is pretty good, man! I mean, it's not perfect or anything, but when I read it, I don't feel like throwing myself off a building. I actually kind of like it. I think "hey, that's not bad. I really ought to finish this". I try really hard not to feel ashamed or guilty for that, because really what kind of message am I giving myself if I look at everything I've done and automatically hate it? No. I am way too old for that shit. Isn't it nice to realise that you've lived long enough that you are no longer obligated to despise and belittle everything you do purely because you're the only one you really need to please? Of course, I love it when other people love something I wrote, but I never really started writing for anyone but myself. I can't work out whether that's really selfish and self-absorbed or kind of, you know, healthy.