You see that little ratings thing that says I'm a "Star"? I'm not. I'm a very bad girl.
The scourge of the forums (YARRR!) is in hiding.
Bad Poppy! BAD!
I've been doing a LOT of really great writing. Deep, insightful, life-altering stuff. I wake up at 4am and compose long treatises on life and inspiration and consciousness - I am remarkably eloquent at that time of the morning. Too bad it's all in my head D'OH!
There's a whole long boring explanation for my extended shore leave, but the summary goes something like:
Was busy with creative stuff - yay! Thank you Bootstraps Burlesque an Hellinahandbag for inspiring me :)
Went on vacation. Tasted a hella lot of wine. Hella. (I looked fabulous, although there is not much pictorial evidence of such. Imagine birdcage hats, opera-length gloves, velvet, taffeta and satin. And fedoras.)
Got sick. SIIIIIICK. Fever, coughing my lungs out, skin turned wonderful salmon colour. Delightful, truly.
Then back to reality: My fledgling business.
Been networking my ass off, getting my name and face out there. I am an introvert, so this really takes it out of me; I am constantly exhausted. I have 1,000+ unread emails, I s*** you not. I can't even bear the thought of that much
contact, even though I want to desperately CATCH UP with what's been going on here! I have so much fun!! :'( I
tweet a fair bit; nothing too exciting, but I can do it in between work stuff and it's at least a
semblance of normal social interaction! I knew it would be hard work, just didn't expect it to be so... draining. My - very well-researched - business plan said I would be busy with the good stuff a minimum of 25 hours/week by now. Reality is 2 hours/
month. Damn. Not much income-generating going on at this rate.
In addition, The Man is very ill and doctor has theories, but no results from said theories yet. His life has become largely unbearable and it is... difficult. We have to make some decisions about where we're going to take our life from here, but we don't want to react out of fear and desperation. At the same time, how long can he hold out? How long can
I hold out, watching him suffer and slowly fade away?
What is really upsetting on top of this all is that I am dry, dry, dry.
No inspiration.
No creativity.
Nada.
I sit in front of the paper and will the pencil to move, but no. This is a problem for multiple reasons:
1. It's not healthy. If I live inside my head for too long, things back up and it becomes a cycle of... unpleasantness.
2. I'm vending at the
local tattoo show in August! Super exciting and my chance to show off what I can do to the people I want to work with, and hopefully launch my own product line at the same time. Obviously pinup-centric ;)
3. I'm entering a competition to win $30,000 business boost. Closing date is June 30. Need full-on product development and marketing plan by then. What's the date today? Oh, June 3rd you say? No worries.
But I am staying surprisingly calm throughout all this. I can only do so much. I've been down Burnout Road far too many times; I know how to mostly avoid it now.
Still, I break out in a cold sweat when the phone rings.
I get nauseated when I check email.
Cry at the thought of spending yet another 2-3 hours in a room full of people I don't know; having to put on my professional face and not reveal too much of myself.
But this is not whining and these are not excuses, these are
reasons; there's a subtle difference.
Please take this into account when administering the whippings and spankings I so rightly
crave deserve ;D
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