Tanked Out

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And a Happy Motherfuckers’ Day to you.

If you’re the sort who is offended by this bastardization of “Happy Fathers’ Day,” then I urge you to leave this site. There will be a lot of swearing today. Moreso than usual, I mean. That’s saying something.

Come to think of it, I should offer a blanket warning to everyone, even those who don’t mind my liberal cursing. I’m in a crappy mood today. You probably won’t want to read this. But here: if you can’t bear the thought of closing the browser without SOMETHING from me—and this is a perfectly understandable state of mind, I really do sympathize—I will give you one tiny paragraph of good news. Then you should probably leave.

Yesterday, I purchased a small top. A small. I’d been maternity shopping (not for me, obviously, but with a coworker who got herself knocked up), and then—after the maternity purchases, and after we’d critically appraised the SF/Fantasy and Graphic Novels section of a bookstore, and after we’d perused the options in two gaming stores—we popped into Hot Topic. Typically I purchase my clothes from thrift stores, but I have a weakness for Hot Topic. My colleague urged me to try on a small tank top. I humored her, knowing full well that mine is not a small body—and yet it fit. I don’t think I’ve fit into a small since I was seven. It throws the gazongas into serious relief, mind, but it fits. And it has the Gryffindor House coat of arms on it. Yay.

Intense kvetching and swearing to commence, now. Here there be tygers. Watch yourself.

I am burned out. The book pretty much incinerated me, leaving only charred flesh and some ashy bits. At this point, my psyche is identifiable only by its dental remains. Mental dental remains. Heh.

And there is no real opportunity for me to recover. I have to write an Author Read-Alikes article by the end of this month on Ted Dekker. Ted Dekker sucks. His prose is absolutely juvenile. Really: I feel like I’m reading a very long story written by an ambitious eleven-year-old.

Also due at the end of this month is a proposal for a chapter I’d promised to write. Have I ever made a bigger mistake in my life? (Yes: agreeing to write an entire book was an even bigger gaffe.) Like the last fucking book I wrote, this chapter will consist primarily of annotations. “Annotation.” This may be the ugliest word in the English language.

Then I have to write the fucking chapter by the end of August, while finding the time to revise my fucking Women’s Nonfiction book (final draft due in August, too), while finding the time to prepare a good presentation for my talk in Kansas-or-Missouri next month.

I have not had a non-working week of vacation since August of 2006.

All this work, this incessant devotion to all things library, and what do I have to show for it? Here’s a hint: the relevant word here is “library.” I love libraries. I love working in them. I can’t really see myself in another profession, unless I figure out how to earn a living by writing. But this is not a high-paying profession. Even with my fulltime job, even with all my side gigs…

Let me put it to you this way: I have precisely $65.15 in my checking account. I can tide myself over till my next paycheck by putting my expenses on my credit cards (which I pay off in full every month, thanks for asking), with one exception: The power company takes its money straight from my checking account. So now I have my fingers crossed that the power bill doesn’t go above $65.15. I would appreciate it if you would cross your fingers, too.

In trying to keep the power bill down, I have the AC set at eighty-six. I am dripping in sweat, have been all weekend. Have I mentioned how cranky I get when I’m hot?

I’m bummed about money, I’m bummed about working all the fucking time, I’m not happy with where I am in my life, and the hot weather is going to continue through August, maybe September. I don’t like where I’m living, I have a lousy social life, I want a fucking vacation. The one element of my life that I am thriving in, my professional life, is currently dissatisfying because I’m just so sick of it. I need balance. I need something other than my job to occupy my mind.

But I look awesome in this tank top, there’s that.


4 responses »

  1. Yes, you need a vacation.Who’s pregnant!?!? OMG *squeal!*I wanna see your new top! And go shopping! Even though I’m in the same money situation as you! :O

  2. I’m buying dinner tonight and we’re making it QUICK! Seriously. You need more than a break, but I’m not letting you off the hook about *going* to dinner because you have to eat and I know you want those green beans (was it?), but I just got a birthday check from my Dad and it would make me feel better to pay. So there. And we could make it at 5:10 instead of 5:20 — save ten more minutes!

  3. I’d buy you dinner too, but I’m actually unemployed now. It’s also known as ‘how to take a very long vacation and not be paid for it’. 😦 I did use my time to actually finish 2 stories, one of which is 20 years old. Yuck. I’m editing now but be damned if I can find 20,000 more words for one of them so I can sell it. Dragons are in the shorter one, and I guess you can consider the second one Fantasy Chick-Lit (is there a stupider term out there?). This on top of bronchitis and situations I can’t go into right now…Being a writer can be an adventure, eh? ;)Chessie (aka Queen of Claremont’s niece) >^..^<

  4. Well, I can certainly appreciate being burned out. I can also appreciate a small top. Ahem.For what it’s worth, we’ve been referring to this month as Juneuary, as the 6th of June was 2 degrees centigrade, and the hottest day so far was 18 degrees centigrade. That’s 36 and 65 respectively, for the metrically underprivileged.While I suppose money can’t buy happiness, neither can virtuous poverty. Imagine, instead of the power-jerks going into your bank account, it was the Canada Student Loans Service Center (Service?!? What service?). To the tune of one quarter of your after tax (Canadian Tax, mind!) income.I hope my money is at least buying happiness for the people who are getting it…


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