I.) I went to bed at a normal time. I even slept. And then my bladder rudely woke me up and…here I sit. Not sleeping. Whatever.
II.) We went grocery shopping and I’m pretty sure my face split in half and fell off my skull between the store and the car. SO. EFFING. COLD.
III.) Speaking of winter, December was a weird, WEIRD month of weather. It was mid to high 30s most of the month with a whole lot of rain. In Minnesota. I am have confusion. Christmas was 30-something degrees. New Years was FIVE.
IV.) I’m just—again—reminded I need to invest in a proper scarf and hat because I own neither and a hood does nothing when the wind is literally knocking you sideways. Yes, I’ve lived in Minnesota my entire 35 years. Yes, I am a very slow learner.
Time to go shopping on the Rooster Teeth store, I guess.
(I still don’t have season twelve of Red Vs Blue that came out on DVD in NOVEMBER. I DON’T EVEN KNOW MYSELF ANYMORE.)
V.) I got a couple inches of hair chopped off before Christmas and suddenly I have natural wave happening. It’s not much, but it’s far more than I ever had as a kid. I have no idea when this happened. It’s been twenty…seven years since it hasn’t been permed. What is this strange voodoo magic?
VI.) I’ve been toying with a new WordPress theme, trying to figure out if I can change certain formatting aspects (without breaking the whole damn thing) to turn it into something I don’t hate. I still like the current theme I’m using, but it’s old and likely riddled with security flaws.
At least that’s what any “KEEP YOUR BLOG SAFE” article will tell you.
And I probably just jinxed myself by pointing out that weakness.
The original creator stopped updating it a long time ago and then suddenly there was a new update…a few? months ago…and it’s a completely different theme under the same name that looks horrendous. I’ve always liked this one because there are so many more customization options that other themes just don’t have. So…either I stick with the outdated number or find something new. Which means I’m relegated to the free templates from WordPress because I’m not paying someone else to design something for me. I don’t make money from this roadshow, I’m not spending more than I have to. And my brain does not bend in the direction I would need it to, to write my own theme.
VII.) My hosting is up for renewal next month and I really need to put in the effort to find a new service because BlueHost is getting fucking ridiculous for a single year of hosting. I’ve never really had issues with the service and the few times I’ve had to contact them I got actual help. But it’s more than doubled in price since I started using it. I just don’t have the mental capacity to figure out what I’m looking at for a new service. MECH.
VIII.) Writing is still sluggish and progress is nearly nonexistent. I’ve reached the I’m ready to start breaking shit stage of writer’s block. I keep sifting through projects, but the inspiration is severely lacking. It makes me want to cry. There have been a few instances that actually produced tears. Writing is as essential to my survival as music…and oxygen, I suppose. It’s a rough road to slog when the well is dry.
IX.) My top ten most played artists for 2014 on Last.fm are…a bit unbalanced.
O.A.R. beat everyone else into submission.
I regret nothing.
X.) Sometimes when the writing is working…no matter how short-lived…there are pieces that stick in my brain for inexplicable reasons.
Kevin looked up as Kate and Darren walked into the kitchen, panic stabbing him in the gut—his sister looked irate and his brother was crying. “What…is going on?” he asked carefully.
“He’s hiding something,” Kate gave Darren a shove, forcing him farther into the room.
Darren slumped against the wall, shaking his head, hiccuping as he swallowed a sob. He rubbed his face with both hands, struggling to breathe, “An envelope,” he croaked.
“What?” Kevin walked around the counter, unsure he’d heard correctly.
“An envelope,” Darren repeated, dropping his hands, “There is an envelope in my bag. I bought it the morning after Dad died. It’s still sealed. I haven’t opened it. I just…I WANT IT SO BAD.”
Mia stopped in her tracks as she walked into the kitchen. She stared at Darren, silent, dark eyes wide. He turned cautiously to look at her, choking on a sob, and slid down the wall to the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, sniffling and hiccuping.
She stared at him a few moments longer before turning on her heel, and stalking off down the hall, her footsteps thundering up the stairs.
“What have you used?” Kevin asked quietly, crossing his arms over his chest.
Darren shook his head, coughing and choking as he struggled to breathe, “Nothing. I haven’t used anything. I swear I haven’t. I swear I’m clean,” he looked around the kitchen, the entire family now assembled, and wheezed loudly as he pulled his knees up to his chest and dropped his head down.
Moments later they heard Mia coming back downstairs. She stormed into the kitchen, throwing Darren’s bag on the floor in front of him. He jolted, looking up, and stared at the bag.
“Show me,” she demanded, “Show me what you’ve done.”
He hesitated and sat forward, slowly pulling the bag closer. He sniffled and hiccuped as he reached inside and pulled a small, white envelope from an inner pocket. He jolted again as Kevin was suddenly in front of him, swiping the envelope from his hand.
“It’s sealed,” Kevin muttered.
“How many more are there?” Mia kicked the bag on the floor, “How many have you used?”
Darren shook his head, inching away from her, “It’s just that. I bought six pills. I haven’t used anything.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Mia, I swear. That’s all I bought and I haven’t used anything.”
She shook her head, chucking a small object at him. It hit him in the shoulder and he flinched, picking up a small, plastic cup.
“Fill it,” she barked.
He stared at the cup for a moment and looked up at her, stunned, “You brought a test with you?”
“Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I don’t know you? How many years have we been doing this? You only have one coping mechanism when shit gets rough. Do you think I didn’t see this coming? Piss in the cup.”
“Piss in the goddamn cup, Darren.”