And I…well…you know the rest. So I got my story back from the first person I sent the manuscript to. The crits were both really helpful and specific, so I know what I can do to improve my work. And he really liked it!!!!!!! That’s the best thing about it. I was told that it was good. Praise-a-lujah!
I hate Christmas. I hate the fuzzy, warm feelings associated with it, the stupid, cookie cutter movies that Hallmark mass produces, the annoying songs, the “good cheer” and “family time.” I hate it all. It makes me want to retch. It never seems like Christmas anymore. There are no presents this year. Decorations are slim. The tree seems so perfect. There are no ornaments that have graced it for years, but uniform, color coordinated ones. The entire Christmas season makes me uncomfortable and sad. I honestly just can’t wait for it to be over. I’m ready to be back with my friends. And I want my childhood back.
“It was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle.”—The Hobbit, J.R.R. Tolkien (via bewitchingbritain)
I’m typing this one-handed. I’m doing so because my cyst on my wrist (the fact that it rhymes also pisses me off) was looked at by a doctor. He decided that instead of waiting till summer to surgically remove it, he would inject it with a steroid and burst it. It hurt like hell. I honestly thought he was going to dislocate my wrist. Now my wrist is swollen, painful, and feverish. And now you have to hear about it.